The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) (24 page)

Docherty yawned and rubbed his grainy eyes. He’d hardly got any sleep last night after his freaky experience in the church. In the harsh light of day it all seemed a bit ridiculous, but the terror he’d experienced refused to go. Just knowing the church was right behind him gave him the willies. Even though he was convinced someone was standing in there watching him he would not to give in to temptation and look round, it was purely his imagination. Now he was even more eager to kill Freya just so he could leave.

A car entering the village caught his eye. It was so obviously a CID pool car they may as well have had
police
emblazoned on the side and a flashing blue light. Raising the binoculars he watched it pull into the car park beside the pub, his heart in his mouth.

“Shit,” he whispered when a familiar figure with a large domed forehead and long monkey arms got out, accompanied by a taller, younger man. DCI Gray. A stream of expletives left Docherty’s lips as he watched Gray stretch out his back then look around, as though trying to decide which way to go.

“Please go left, go left,” urged Docherty. If Gray decided to go right to the mother’s cottage he’d be fucked.

Gray turned round and round with a frown on his funny monkey face before heading left down the dock.

This was bad. Very bad. He had to act.

CHAPTER 25

Docherty made his way down the hill back to the village, fighting the urge to run. Gray must have assumed that on a day like this Freya would be out on the water, enjoying the weather. The wind had completely died down, the boats once again resting peacefully in their moorings.

Another tour group was gathering on the pub car park, cars rolling to a halt beside Gray’s. Eagerly they leapt out of their vehicles, barely able to contain their excitement at the sight of the police car just departing and the crime scene tape cordoning off the area where Mandy had held the blade to Freya’s throat.

“Oover herre, this way,” called the big-nosed tour guide, waving his hands.

“What’s going on?” Docherty heard one man ask, eyes glittering with excitement. “Has there been another murder?”

“No but there nearly wis,” replied Toby.

They crowded round him, demanding more information and he smiled with pleasure at being the centre of attention.

Pulling his cap down lower Docherty walked round the side of the pub, avoiding the group. He peeked around the corner to see the two figures on the dock, Gray studying a piece of paper as he walked then looking up intermittently to study the boats. Docherty glanced over his shoulder at Ma Donaldson’s house. Should he just charge in there and massacre the bitch now before he was arrested? He crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, attempting to control his breathing
.

“No,” he growled. He would not rush this, it was his vengeance, what he’d been yearning for all these years. The cops had to go instead.

Decisively he sprung to his feet and, head bowed, meandered along the dock. He could hear Gray and his colleague talking. He didn’t recognise the younger one, he looked to be a brand new fresh faced detective, no doubt newly promoted to CID. Why hadn’t Gray brought one of his older, more experienced colleagues with him? Unless he didn’t seriously believe Docherty was here, he’d probably just come to warn Freya. That meant the polis thought he was still in Glasgow. He started to calm down. They knew nothing. All he had to do was take care of this pair and he was home free.

He watched from behind the prow of a yacht as they talked, looking confused, their voices drifting to him on the now-gentle sea breeze.

“Shouldn’t we just go to the mother-in-law’s house?” said the young detective. “There’s loads of boats here.”

“No,” retorted Gray. “If we go there and Freya’s already left then the mother will want to know what’s happening and we can’t tell her Docherty’s free, it’ll be all round the manor in no time. Plus I want to tell Freya personally, I’m not trusting this message to anyone else.”

Typical Gray,
thought Docherty.
He’d never trusted anyone but himself, not even his own team.

There were dozens of boats and it would take a little time to check them all. To Docherty’s delight the detectives split up, Gray going left towards where Freya’s boat was moored and the young detective to the right. Docherty decided to tackle Gray first. He posed the biggest threat.

He followed, head bowed, his trainers making no sound on the wooden dock. When Gray rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight behind a yacht Docherty still knew where he was from the noise his hard-soled shoes made on the wooden dock. He peeked round the side of the yacht and saw Gray rushing up to Freya’s boat, all excitement, throwing his overly long arms backwards and forwards. Docherty wasn’t worried, he knew she was at her mother-in-law’s cottage, but she could return at any moment.

He crept forward as Gray leapt onto the boat and pulled at the door. Naturally it refused to open. With a sigh he jumped down and took out his phone. He was so consumed by the task that he failed to notice Docherty coming up behind him.

As he started to dial Docherty rushed forwards, Gray turning at the last second as he was knocked off the dock and together they fell into the water, landing between two boats, hiding them from view. Docherty was bigger and heavier and landed on top of Gray, knocking the wind out of him. The phone fell from Gray’s hand and was swallowed up by the water. He looked up at Docherty, complete surprise on his face, long monkey arms flailing and legs frantically kicking. Docherty managed to plant his feet firmly on the stony bed and gripped Gray by the shirt front.

“I’m going to kill her Gray. She’s here and she’s going to die fucking slowly and painfully,” he said before pushing him under the water.

Gray wasn’t big but he was stocky and he created a violent wash as he kicked and thrashed, attempting to push Docherty off but he remained immovable. One big fist connected with Docherty’s ribs, making him groan with pain. With sheer force of will he managed to remain on top, but only just. This was no good. He had to get a better grip on him. He punched Gray twice in the face, disorientating him then grabbed his ankles and pulled as hard as he could. Gray’s head bobbed under the water and no matter how hard he fought he couldn’t break the surface. Docherty’s arms shook with the strain of keeping the man’s bowed legs raised as he continued to thrash, soaking Docherty with water. It was a relief when his movements grew more lethargic then stopped altogether.

“About fucking time,” Docherty breathed, releasing Gray’s legs, which flopped limply back into the water. He grabbed the man’s tie and used it to pull the body closer so he could check his pulse. He had to be sure. Nothing. Gray’s glassy eyes stared up at him, wide with surprise, mouth hanging open as he’d tried to breathe underwater.

Excitement gripped Docherty like it never had before. He’d just killed another one on his hit list. He’d not really expected to get Gray, it had been a distant dream. He couldn’t believe such an experienced officer would leave himself so exposed like that. It proved his theory that they thought he was still in Glasgow and Gray had only come here to warn Freya. He should have used the fucking phone instead, the prick. The high winds last night must have knocked them out. He could have sent another officer but he understood how Gray’s mind had worked. The guilt at not being able to save Sally and Anita would have tormented him, he would have blamed himself for not protecting them and for persuading them to give evidence against him in the first place. He’d wanted to be Freya’s white knight, riding in to protect her from the bad man.

“You fucking idiot,” he told Gray’s corpse as it bobbed about in the water.

When Docherty started to giggle he clamped a hand down over his mouth. No time to revel in his victory now, there was another copper to take care of who would raise the alarm when his colleague failed to return but first he had to hide Gray’s body. Nothing elaborate was required, he would be leaving the village soon. All he needed to do was stash it until he’d done Freya, so he simply wedged him between the wooden struts supporting the dock. It took him a few goes to get him to stay put, Docherty’s impatience growing every time the tide caught the body and pushed it out of its hiding place. Eventually he managed to stuff it into a corner. It still bobbed about slightly but it would have to do. It was awkward rifling through Gray’s pockets with him crammed into such a small place, monkey-like limbs stuck out at odd angles, but he managed it and stole his wallet and some loose change. There were some notes that he hoped could be dried out and the warrant card would be very useful indeed, as would the handcuffs he took from Gray’s belt. The phone had been lost in the water and even if he did find it it wouldn’t work. Besides, he had no one to call.

Once he’d collected his spoils he decided he’d better go in search of the young detective before he got suspicious. He dragged himself back onto the dock, taking a moment to make sure Gray’s body wasn’t visible. He smiled to himself as he walked over the spot where he’d stashed him, pausing to peer between the wooden slats but he could see nothing. Annoyingly his trainers were saturated with water and squelched when he walked. His clothes were heavy with it, leaving a trail behind him, but at least he’d dry quickly in this heat.

He headed to the right, in the direction the other detective had gone. He hesitated and strained to listen, the sound of shoes on the wooden boards just audible up ahead. A man came round the side of a boat studying the vessels as he walked, off guard, not a clue what he was about to encounter. Docherty’s heart hammered against his ribcage and the blood sang in his head as the man got nearer, gaze constantly moving between the little piece of paper in his hand and the boats, still unaware of his presence.

Just as Docherty came level with him a young couple appeared out of nowhere, arm-in-arm and laughing together, forcing Docherty to keep on walking, allowing the detective to safely continue on his way.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He continued to stroll casually, pretending to admire the view, glancing over his shoulder intermittently to see where the couple had gone. They climbed onboard a yacht and appeared to be pointing at something in the distance.

“Piss off you idiots,” he muttered under his breath.

A few seconds later they disappeared inside the boat and Docherty turned on his heel and hurried to catch up with the detective, who had almost reached the spot where Docherty had caught up with Gray. In a matter of seconds he’d notice Freya’s boat.

“’Scuse me pal,” called Docherty.

The detective whipped round. “Yes?”

“Are you DCI Gray’s colleague?”

“I am, DC Kennedy.”

“He asked me to fetch you,” said Docherty, making a show of being out of breath. “A woman was attacked up at the castle, Freya something I think he said her name was. He’s caught the man responsible and he needs you.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Course. This way.”

Docherty was glad he’d learnt the layout of the village because it meant he could lead the man away from public view. They sped back down the dock in the opposite direction to Freya’s boat, just in case her and Supercop decided to return and led Kennedy up the hill. The detective hadn’t recognised him, the beard and shaved head had fooled him, as well as the fact that he thought they’d finally got their man. His naivety was going to cost him.

Both Docherty and the detective huffed and puffed as they rushed up the hill, the sun beating down mercilessly already. Silently Docherty thanked whatever force had led him to that tour group because he’d come up with the perfect way to dispose of the detective, one he was sure Logan and Lynch would have approved of.

“Nearly there,” puffed Docherty. “The man brought her up here but some of the village men followed. They were just in time to save her.”

Docherty let the detective get slightly ahead of him as they sped into the castle.

“That way,” called Docherty, pointing to the right.

The detective ran deeper into the castle, through what used to be the prison, the air getting cooler and danker. Docherty feigned needing to stop for breath and bent double, wheezing. “In there,” he said, pointing into the room that held the oubliette.

The detective nodded and rushed inside, Docherty closely following. The man skidded to a halt.

“There’s no one here.”

He failed to see the large rock coming at his head. With a grunt he dropped to the ground, out cold.

Docherty knelt by his side, removed the cuffs from the man’s belt and bound his hands behind his back. Then he removed the mobile phone from his inner jacket pocket. As he stared at the device a plan formed in his mind.

“Come on, wakey wakey,” said Docherty, slapping him about the face.

The detective groaned, panicking when he tried to put a hand to his head and couldn’t.

“Alright, calm down,” said Docherty, slapping him harder. A pair of wide brown eyes stared up at him, full of fear.

“You’re Docherty.”

“Yes I am you daft bastard. You just believed I was who I said I was. Do you know nothing? Fucking useless plod, I’m amazed you managed to get into CID.”

“I’m here with a colleague, he’ll be calling for backup as we speak. You can’t get away. Why don’t you just release me now and we’ll go and talk to him? I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Docherty flashed a malicious smile. “Sorry. DCI Gray’s dead.”

Kennedy swallowed hard. “No he’s not.”

He pulled the warrant card from his pocket and waved it in front of his face. “Then how did I get this?”

Kennedy’s lower lip wobbled, as though he was about to burst into tears before recovering himself. “You fucking bastard, you’re going down for that.”

“So you do have some balls after all,” replied a jovial Docherty. He couldn’t believe how well everything was going. Luck was certainly on his side. “Now, you’re going to make a call back to the station and tell your little piggy friends there’s no sign of me and that Freya and Supercop are back on the ocean waves.” He paused to ponder for a moment. “Tell them there’s a lead indicating I could be on Arran. Let the daft bastards waste their time trawling the islands.”

“Go fuck yourself you wanker,” retorted Kennedy before spitting in his face. The bravado drained right out of him when Docherty’s face hardened and all emotion vanished from his eyes.

“Not good,” he said before drawing back his fist.

The first time Freya spoke after returning to Nora’s cottage was to give her statement to the police. Her voice was soft and tired voice but Craig was just so relieved she was talking again.