Jessie clapped her hands and shuffled her feet, trying to force some warmth into her body. Returning to the car had sounded like a great idea, but everyone had forgotten that Stan had the keys. Now her legs were chilled to the bone, her feet lumps of ice.
‘Come on,’ she said, calling Gilchrist’s number again, then Stan’s. Both were still unobtainable. ‘Shit.’ She tried to work out what had happened, but nothing made sense. Had they lost the signal? They had drugged the dogs and got safely into the barn, Andy had told her that. The signal had been fine then. And they would be only another few minutes. His exact words.
That was ten minutes ago.
She felt a gut-wrenching sickness wash through her at the thought that something had gone terribly wrong, and she fought off the overwhelming urge to call for back-up. It would be just like the thing that as soon as she did, Andy and Stan would turn up. Then where would she be? In serious trouble, came the answer. So she stared into the darkness across the fields, straining to pick out the slightest movement.
Her mobile vibrated and she made the connection without looking at the number. ‘Yes?’
‘So, you’ve finally deigned to answer,’ Lachie said.
Jessie gritted her teeth, then cursed under her breath. She was angry, freezing, worried sick about Stan and Andy. She didn’t have time to deal with this. Her anger surged to fury, and she shouted, ‘I don’t want you ever entering my house again when I’m not there. You hear me, Lachie? And I don’t want you anywhere near Robert ever again—’
‘That was an accident—’
‘And while we’re at it, I’m not interested in moving out of our home.’
‘I’ve got a nice wee place lined up for—’
‘Or having any kind of relationship with—’
‘Listen, Jessie—’
‘No, Lachie. You listen to me.’
‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,’ Lachie said. ‘I’m going to—’
‘Highland Tam.’
Silence.
Jessie waited a couple of beats, then repeated the name. ‘Highland Tam.’
Lachie cleared his throat. ‘What about him?’
Jessie could not fail to catch the tiniest shiver of uncertainty in Lachie’s tone. ‘You remember him well, I’m sure.’
‘What about him?’ More forceful this time.
‘You were responsible for his death, Lachie.’
‘In case it’s slipped your mind, Highland Tam committed suicide—’
‘Because you pushed him to it.’
‘He was as guilty as sin.’
‘We all knew it. And so did he. But you didn’t need to plant the drugs on—’
‘Wait a fucking minute.’
‘You can deny it all you like, Lachie.’
‘There’s nothing to deny.’
‘There’s plenty to deny, Lachie. I watched you do it.’
‘No one’ll believe you. It’s your word against mine.’
‘Are you prepared to take that chance?’
One beat, two beats, then, ‘It could backfire on you, Jessie. Big time.’
‘It certainly could. But d’you know what, Lachie? I’m up for it.’
‘Where do you get off, you fucking wee tramp.’
‘Right here is where I get off. This is my stop. You hear me? I’m getting off right now. Without you. And if you ever come near me again, or phone me again, I’m warning you, Lachie, I’ll—’
‘You wouldn’t fucking dare.’
‘Oh, I’ll dare all right. You’d better believe it,’ she said, then killed the call and stuffed the mobile deep into her pocket. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sudden gush. Oh, Jesus. She dabbed a hand at her eyes wiped away the tears. Oh, shit. She pressed the hand to her mouth to stop her lips from trembling. Shit and shit again.
What the hell had she gone and done?
No one crossed Lachie McKellar. Ever.
Not unless they wanted to ruin their career. Or worse.
Oh, fuck. She shielded herself from a hard gust of wind that shook the hedgerow by the side of the car, as if Lachie were trying to burst his way through to strangle her. She had seen him in action before, knew how vindictive he could be. No one survived an onslaught from him. No one. She tilted her head to the black oblivion of the night sky and closed her eyes – shit, shit, shit – and took several deep breaths that did little to settle her nerves.
When she opened her eyes again, she tried to force the worry of what she had done from her mind. She needed to focus on what was important – really important – and find out what was going on. She retrieved her mobile and called Gilchrist’s number again.
But his phone was still dead.
Then Stan . . .
Same result.
‘Right,’ she said, staring off into the cold night, her breath clouding the air as if she had just run the hundred metres. ‘If you think I’m going to stand around freezing my tits off, you’ve got another think coming.’ She stepped from behind the car and into the full force of a bitter east coast wind. Rather than work back to her hiding-spot near the driveway, she decided to walk across the open fields, just as Andy and Stan had done.
That way she had a better chance of bumping into them if they were on their way back.
She entered the field through the open gate, and took a bearing from the distant lights of Purvis’s cottage. Her feet kicked through damp grass and sank into puddled soil. She cursed, put her head down and strode on into the cold darkness, struggling to force all thoughts of Lachie from her mind.
‘I said turn round. Now.’
Gilchrist stared into the twin black bores of the shotgun.
Purvis had repositioned himself to bring Stan more into his line of fire, so that he could take out Gilchrist first, then Stan, or the other way around, if he preferred.
Gilchrist caught Stan’s eyes and nodded, and together they turned around.
‘On your knees,’ Purvis ordered.
Gilchrist felt something hard catch in his throat. He had seen wartime footage of men jogging to their spot of execution, then being shot in the back of the head, one after the other. He had often wondered why no one ever fought back. But now, as he and Stan did exactly as Purvis instructed, he knew the answer – disbelief and the horrific and numbing realisation that there was no hope of survival. Life, for all the good and bad that had been done with it, was about to end.
Stan’s eyes were closed, as if he, too, were simply waiting for the blast.
‘Eyes to the front.’
The closeness of the voice jolted Gilchrist. Then he caught the scratchy shuffle of leather soles on dusty concrete and sensed a subtle shifting of Purvis’s body – the lowering of the shotgun towards his head.
He closed his eyes, and prayed to a God he did not believe in.