Shot Through The Heart (Supernature Book 1) (17 page)

What was so special about the Catholic faith?

Mark tugged at his brain, trying to think it through. To him, Catholicism was much older and was more magic-based than the almost rational Protestant faiths, themselves almost a step towards philosophy. Mark had always considered it not a coincidence that much of the philosophy of the previous three hundred years had emerged from northern Europeans and their Protestantism. Hume in Scotland and Nietzsche in Germany had eschewed faith and superstition and laid the foundations for the modern world. Catholicism was still mired in the supernatural - they still performed exorcisms and who knew what else?

Mark was open to some other force being at play. The glass showed a demon with its head on fire. Could the demon have laid waste to the church?

Adam walked over. "This is a cracking site, man," he said, standing alongside Mark and looking back at the ruins. "Well found."

Mark shrugged. "It was just a case of speaking to the local minister," he said. "He pointed it out."

"Yeah, but this is amazing, man," said Adam. "I'll give you a couple of shots for your book, obviously, but this is a treasure trove for my own book. Got some absolutely classic shots."

Mark nodded. "Did you see the stained glass?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Adam, eyes suddenly wide. "No idea what that was all about." He buttoned up his leather camera case. "You're the expert here, bud, any ideas?"

"I've got a few," said Mark. "The Highlands was Catholic until the Clearances, but I can't reconcile that back to the place being ruined. I've got a few ideas, but nothing concrete."

"Well, whatever they are," said Adam, "let me know if you need photos of them." He unscrewed an aluminium canteen and took a deep drink of water. "What have you been up to?" he asked, gesturing down at Mark's notebook, still open at the hastily-written scribbles.

"Just getting a few chapter ideas," said Mark. "I have to operate on two levels. There's the planning side, which is fine as long as I actually stick to it, but there's actually writing it. It's the hardest thing in the world to make this stuff actually readable. I'm trying to make it the most interesting book that I can. And it's tough."

"Got any good ideas today?" asked Adam.

Mark thought that he was fishing for more photography ideas. "A couple," he said, with a smile that quickly turned to a grimace. "Been thinking a lot about Kay, though."

"Yeah, man," said Adam, "that's been quite a while. Still radio silence?"

Mark looked into the wood behind the church, trying to decide whether to tell Adam about what he'd seen the previous night. "Still radio silence," he eventually said. "I'm getting concerned now. That's a week since anyone has seen or heard from her."

"Do you want to go to the police?" asked Adam.

Mark scowled at his phone - he'd not heard back from Jim or any of his colleagues. "I phoned them this morning," he said.

"You
phoned
?" asked Adam, scowling.

"The nearest staffed station is in Brora," said Mark with a shrug. "It's miles away." He gave a deep sigh. "Still not heard anything from her. I called her parents while you were snapping away - they've still not heard from her either."

"Are they not worried?" asked Adam.

Mark shook his head. "No," he said. "She's done this before, apparently."

"But you're still worried?" asked Adam, grinning.

Mark nodded. "The only way that I can get closure on this is to find her," he said. "She'd left some notes behind in her room that said that she was heading up to Wick and Thurso. I would go up and root around myself, but it'll take forever on the train."

"I've got a car," said Adam, falling right into Mark's trap.

"You wouldn't mind?" asked Mark.

Adam gave a leery grin. "Hey, man," he said, "I figure that if I find her or save her then she might be grateful, you know?"

Mark didn't agree but he was glad that he had transport, even if it meant putting up with a few hours of chat about f-stops and ISO exposure numbers.

Mark was surprised by how familiar Wick felt, as if it was in the Central Belt. The architecture wouldn't have been out of place in the Lothians or Stirlingshire.

He leaned back against the car, thinking through the next steps. He'd asked all over - police station, tourist information, the library, the museums, a few local lawyers - but there was no sign of Kay. The evidence was pointing towards her not being in Wick as her notes had said. Perhaps it was her the previous night.

Adam bounded back to the car, smiling. "Think I've got your cover shot," he said, fiddling with his camera and wound through the photographs he'd taken. "This one."
 

Mark took the bulky machine - while he had been asking around in the town, the mid-afternoon haar had settled in. The sea mist that was so much of a bane to Scottish tourism was a boon to photographers. The particular shot that had Adam frothing at the mouth was a signpost showing the distance to Edinburgh, appearing to loom out of the mist.

"Good, eh?" asked Adam.

Mark shrugged, eager not to encourage him too much. "It'll do," he said.

"It'll do?" asked Adam, eyes wide. "This will add ten thousand sales to your book."

"We'll see," said Mark.

Adam scowled. "Any joy with Kay?" asked .

"Nothing," said Mark.

"Okay, so where next, boss?" asked Adam.

"No idea," said Mark. He'd lost motivation and was struggling to focus on anything other than the memory of the green eyes staring through the window at him.

"How about John o' Groats?" asked Adam. "We're practically there."

Mark groaned, thinking there wasn't much there, just some tacky tourist stuff. That said, the plus side would be keeping Adam's mouth closed for an extra hour, giving Mark some time to think about where next to look for Kay, or to replay his memories sufficiently well to convince himself that he hadn't seen what he thought he had.
 

"Fine," said Mark, and he got in the car. He put the radio on loud, hoping that Adam wouldn't talk.
 

As they drove, he came to the conclusion that, if he couldn't find Kay in the next day, he should get back to Edinburgh. It was an idea that had come into his head when he'd been mooching about in Wick, but it became fully formed in his mind as they headed north.

Mark had been mostly focused on Ruthven village - and he didn't want to face up to the primary reason for that - but there was much more of Scotland that he should cover to get a more balanced view. The National Library was in Edinburgh, and that was where the bulk of his time had to be spent. It was so quiet there that he could rampage through the word count, and he wouldn't have to spend money on accommodation.

That, and he could get away from the dog.

He looked at his dead mobile phone, no bars of signal. He wanted to phone Sarah and let her know. If nothing else, it might defrost the situation between them slightly. But it was no dice. He hadn't spoken to her in a few days and was feeling guilty.

Just then, a couple of bars appeared from nowhere and Mark's phone rang. He didn't recognise the number. He turned the stereo down and took the call.

"Mr Campbell, it's Jim Carstairs. We spoke earlier about your employee, a Ms Kay McGregor."

Mark's heart thudded in his chest. "Have you found her?" he asked.

Adam looked over, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing to get too excited about, sir," said Jim. "We've trawled the hospitals from Thurso down to Oban and Pitlochry, and the good news is that nobody matching the description of your employee has turned up."

Mark frowned. "What's the bad news?" he asked.

"The bad news," said Jim, seemingly eager to stretch out the mystery, "is that we've found her car."

The ninety minutes from Wick back south felt like weeks to Mark, the roads being far from the best that Scotland offered, but Adam had been able to make better time than anticipated. The whole way, his mind was in overdrive - an infinite number of possibilities running through it.

"Why here?" asked Mark, as they pulled into the train station car park at Helmsdale, trying to spot the police car.

"Eh?"

"Why did she leave her car here?" asked Mark. "The nearest station to Ruthven is Kinbrace, not Helmsdale. It doesn't make any sense."

Adam shrugged. "We need to ask her to find out," he said.

Mark was out of the car before Adam had stopped, marching across the tarmac to the police officer.

"Mr Campbell?" asked the heavyset man in his forties, bushy eyebrows sprouting out from thick curly locks. He pulled his cap on.

Mark offered a hand. "Mark Campbell," he said, shaking the officer's hand.

"You can call me Sergeant Edgar."

Mark's eyes darted to the car, Kay's purple Fiesta. Edgar's colleague - a constable a good fifteen years younger - was shining a torch inside the vehicle. "Doesna look like onnybody's been in yon car for a good week," he said.

"What makes you say that?" asked Edgar.

The constable pointed with his free hand. "Yon big spider has set up home in there," he said.

Mark looked around the small car park, there were two other vehicles. He couldn't see any CCTV cameras. "Has anyone seen anything?" he asked.

Edgar shook his head. "We've been on to ScotRail," he said, "and spoken to the manager of the car parks. He reckons it's been there since Tuesday, at least."

"Tuesday?" asked Mark, a frown etching into his forehead. Kay hadn't been seen since Monday. What happened between her leaving the hotel and the car turning up?

"Aye, well," said Edgar. "Could be Monday, but definitely since Tuesday."

"And he didn't think of phoning it in?" asked Mark, irritated by the lack of attention to detail.

Edgar scowled at him. "How do you think we found it?" he asked.

"Fair enough," said Mark. "Did anyone see her?"

"No," said Edgar, "but then nobody saw the car arrive."

Mark gave a deep sigh. "So, what's your conclusion?" he asked.

Edgar gave a shrug. "Car found in a railway station car park," he said. "Makes me think that the owner of the car got on a train."

While Mark agreed with his conclusion, he just could not figure out what it meant.

Mark sliced the lamb with the steak knife and nodded politely at Elizabeth while he chewed, avoiding her eyes. He was worried about what had passed between them the other night, about what she had tried to do, so he sat a few places away from her, to guard against physical contact.

"I'm really glad that you could join me for dinner," said Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was wearing a figure-hugging dress and, while her figure was lean, she had all the curves that Mark liked to see. He'd had to keep his eyes off her, just so he could control where they looked. Her face was glowing, cheeks rosy.

"My pleasure," said Mark, lifting his glass to his lip.

He really had no idea why he'd come. All the stuff with Kay… He wasn't thinking straight. Of course, he did know really - Elizabeth was beautiful and seemed to want him - but there was no way that he could go through with what she had in mind for him. Could he?

"What did you think of Wick?" asked Elizabeth, before taking another sip of wine.

"I'd never been before," he said. "In fact, I've never been north of Inverness. I suppose I kind of expected it to be a lot bigger. It didn't seem that alien, to be honest. Maybe I'm just used to the Central Belt, but it just feels like everything is so small up here."

Elizabeth laughed. "I don't suppose I need to tell you the reasons why it's like that nowadays."

Mark smiled at her. "Quite," he said.

"So, how was your trip, then?" she asked.

"Pointless," said Mark, deciding not to mention the possible sighting. "I went through all places in the notes Kay left behind, and we drew a blank. It's very frustrating. I was hopeful I'd find at least
something
. The trail dies at the hotel. The manager didn't know that she'd gone until I called him."

"So, what will you do?" asked Elizabeth.

Mark put his knife down on the table - as delicious as the first few mouthfuls had been, the way that the blood was mingling with mashed potatoes was starting to turn his stomach. He was considering giving up meat again. "I went to the police," he said, finally.

"The police?" asked Elizabeth.

Mark nodded. "Someone had to," he said. "It's been a week since she was last seen. That's starting to verge on the criminal."

"I see your point," said Elizabeth.

Mark frowned and folded his arms. "Do you think that I shouldn't have reported it?"

She tried to laugh it off. "No, of course not," she said. "It's just that the police in these parts aren't quite like those in your city, I would wager."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "It's a single police force these days."

Elizabeth leaned across the table, revealing more of her bra than Mark expected to see. "If you are saying that a disappearance in the Highlands would be treated in exactly the same way as in Edinburgh," she said, "then I'm afraid that we'll just have to agree to disagree."

Mark's interest was piqued now, but he wasn't sure whether to push it or not. "They found her car," he said.

"Her car?"

"It was in Helmsdale," said Mark. "At the train station."

"What was it doing there?" asked Elizabeth.

Mark shrugged. "I've no idea."

"Do you think that she's caught the train somewhere?" asked Elizabeth.

Mark shrugged. "That's what the police officer reckons," he said. "I can't work out why she would park the car at Helmsdale, though."

"Do you agree with him?" asked Elizabeth.

Mark stared at her for a few seconds before taking another sip of the rich wine. "I think I saw her."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Really? Where?"

"By the hotel," said Mark.

Elizabeth frowned. "Why would she be there?" she asked.
 

"I've no idea," said Mark. He wanted to change the subject. "How was your day?" he asked, aware that it was the same sort of banal question that he would ask Sarah.