The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) (4 page)

Sally managed to haul herself to her feet and trudged down the road to her usual corner, pocketing her meagre takings and dropping the empty cup on the ground. Soon she’d have her fix then she could block it all out. She couldn’t wait.

Docherty watched the pathetic figure wind its way down the road but he felt no pity, only the violent rage that had seen him through the hell of prison. That skank was one of the reasons why he’d been put in there and she would pay for it.

He pulled up the collar of the stolen shirt, the baseball cap doing a lot to shadow his face. Not that it really mattered, it was dark now and the police still weren’t looking for him. They thought he was in hospital with a piece of tenderised meat for a face.

He watched from a distance as Sally took her place on the corner. It gave him a perverse pleasure to see her brought so low, it reassured him that her life had been as shite as his but he couldn’t leave it too long, he had to get to her before a genuine punter did. He needn’t have worried. The cars that did slow were more interested in the prettier women in their short skirts and high heels. No one looked twice at the bedraggled mess in the filthy jeans and puffer jacket. Only the munter hunters would go for her.

Docherty kept his head down as he walked, excitement bubbling up inside him the closer he got. She had no idea what was about to hit her. He just hoped she was compus mentis enough to enjoy the full experience.

“How much?” he said, keeping his face tilted to the ground.

She regarded him with dazed eyes. “Fiver for a hand job, tenner for a blowjob, twenty for a fuck,” she replied in a dull flat voice. She had to keep her prices low to compete with the more desirable girls.

The thought of her touching him in any intimate way revolted Docherty and he’d spent five years surrounded by men. She’d been pretty once, it was why he’d targeted her, but the drugs had ravaged her body, leaving her a skeletal wreck. To his disgust she was missing some of her teeth.

“I’ll have twenty quid’s worth,” he said, knowing she’d take him well away from prying eyes for a full-on fuck.

She just nodded and headed into the grimy alleyway leading off the main road, leaving behind the lights and noise. The alley stunk of a rancid mix of dog shit and piss, he hadn’t smelt anything like it before, not even in prison, and his stomach turned over.

At the bottom of the alley she stopped and began to unzip her jeans.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

She shrugged and dropped to her knees instead.

“Jesus, get up.”

Annoyance snapped her out of her fugue, the need for heroin making her desperate. “What do you want then?”

He raised his head and pulled off the baseball cap. “Remember me Sal?”

“Oh f…”

His fist knocked her off her feet and she fell onto all fours on the stinking cobbles among the used condoms, needles and excrement. She stared up at him fearfully, for the first time in months her senses in sharp focus.

“You’re supposed to be in the jail,” she said, cowering at his feet.

He could smell her fear over the fetid stench of the alley and he positively swelled with pleasure. “Did you really think I’d let you get away with what you did? Your bullshit gave me a very long prison sentence. You must be punished.”

A blade glinted in the darkness. Docherty threw back his head and laughed. “Come on then Sal, give it your best shot.”

She got to her feet, legs so wobbly she could barely stand, desperately wishing someone would come along with a needle and fill her with heroin to block out this nightmare. She waved the knife before him, lunging clumsily. He easily dodged, grabbed her arm and twisted. When she cried out in pain he punched her in the face. She fell and he snatched up the knife.

“Thanks for this Sal. It could come in useful later,” he said, pocketing the five inch blade.

Sally tried to scrabble backwards, hands slipping on the cobbles. “I’m sorry, they made me do it. I didn’t want to testify against you. DCI Gray forced us all, he said he’d lock us up if we didn’t.”

“Nice try Sal but not good enough,” he said, kicking her hard in the stomach. Her yelp sent pleasure shooting up his spine, making him feel invincible. All his senses were razor sharp. Every sound was amplified, he could clearly see in the gloom and the smell of the blood leaking from her mouth elicited from him a groan. The violence made him feel so alive.

“I’m just here to give you a hiding Sal but if you don’t tell me where I can find Anita Kelly I’ll fucking kill you and leave you here with the rest of the shit.”

“You really mean that?” she said hopefully.

He snorted inwardly, unable to understand why she was so desperate to save such a crappy life. “Hand on heart. Now tell me quick before I change my mind.”

“She’s living with a dealer called Kevin Stroud in a flat in Maryhill.”

That was all the information he needed, he could easily find her with a name and general area. “Nice one Sal, well done. Not a complete waste of skin and oxygen after all.”

“You’ll let me go now, please?”

Sally looked up at him from the filthy ground, pleading in her eyes, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. Docherty puffed up with the heady power, the blood pumping around his body, the familiar high kicking in. He released a strange roar, a combination of rage and pleasure as his fist repeatedly connected with her face, bouncing her head off the cobbles in an attempt to obliterate her features and wipe her off the face of the earth. As he put more and more force into the blows her pleas for him to stop turned to whimpers.

Not wanting her to lose consciousness altogether before he’d doled out her entire punishment he began kicking at her abdomen and back.

Tears mingled with the blood on Sally’s face as she realised this time he wasn’t going to stop. Her bones snapped beneath the force of the blows and the toe of his boot caught the underside of her chin, snapping her head back, a blinding pain shooting from the top of her head down to her jaw. He slammed his foot into her left side, there was a crack and she found it hard to breathe. She didn’t even have the strength to curl up anymore. All she could do was stare up at him, her body jumping with each kick, blood trickling into her eyes from her many injuries.

The last thing she saw was her tormentor glaring down at her with drug-induced pleasure, only his drug was violence. He seemed to draw back his foot in slow motion and she watched the toe of his huge boot coming towards her, connecting with such force her head was whipped round on her neck, so she was facing down the other end of the alley. At least she couldn’t see him anymore. The darkness closed in, the slimy alley ebbing away. Her last thoughts were of her parents and the life she’d left behind, which in retrospect had been good. She’d thrown so much away.

What a waste,
was her last thought.

Docherty tilted his face to the black sky and dragged in a deep breath, heart hammering and the blood thundering in his ears. He was feverish with excitement and had never felt so powerful.

Recollecting himself, he knelt by the pathetic figure crumpled on the ground and checked for a pulse with a gloved hand. Nothing. Sally’s eyes were wide and staring, the terror of her final moments clearly imprinted on her face and gratification flooded him. Something nice for his scumbag ex-colleagues to find.

He wiped the blood from his gloves and boots on her coat, the final insult. He wanted to piss on her too but didn’t want to leave behind anything they could use to test his DNA. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled out of the alley whistling to himself.

One down, three to go.

CHAPTER 5

Freya handed the woman sat opposite her a tissue. “It’s alright, get it all out.”

“Thank you,” she responded before descending into sobs that shook her thin shoulders.

Freya regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and, if she was really honest with herself, a tiny bit of revulsion. The woman was a struggling alcoholic, just like she’d once been. She’d lost her job, her man and her home and now her kids had been taken off her, two beautiful boys. Before the doctor’s appointment Freya would have thought it terrible how one woman had suffered so much but now, knowing she might never get to be a mother, she found herself despising those who lost the greatest gift imaginable through their own poor choices. Mary had been an alcoholic since she was fifteen. Give her her due she’d managed to keep it together for twenty years, long enough to marry, settle down and have kids. But after the death of her father a year ago things had steadily got worse and now she’d lost everything.

“Thanks, you’ve been so kind,” said the woman through her tears.

“That’s what I’m here for,” smiled Freya, wondering how her poor boys, aged just seven and four, were faring without their mother who cared more about the drink than them.

Stop it. That’s not fair. She loves those weans,
Freya chided herself. She was letting her personal problems get in the way of her work and that wasn’t professional. “How’s the temporary accommodation?” Freya had helped her find it after she’d been kicked out of her own flat for not paying the rent.

“It’s okay. There are two other women in the house and they’re nice. They’re going through what I’m going through.”

Freya was pleased, it was one reason why she’d chosen that house for her. “That’s good. So you’ve someone to talk to when I’m not available?”

“Aye and it helps. I just need my boys back, I’m gonnae go mad without them.”

“We’re working on that. You’ve been dry for a full two weeks now and that’s great but you’ve got a lot more work to do to prove yourself. Keep it up and you will get them back, I promise.”

“Their da will no let me see them, he says I scare them.”

“Soon he’ll realise how hard you’re fighting your addiction and he will start letting you spend time with them again. I’ve spoken to him about it and he agreed.”

“Have you hen? Aye that’s great,” she said, smiling through her tears.

“You just need to give it a little time to let the dust settle.” No wonder the poor kids were scared of her, she’d smashed up the house in a drunken rage and the older boy had locked himself and his little brother in the bathroom, afraid for their lives. Used to calling for help when his mum drank herself unconscious, he’d called his dad out from work who’d come home to find the house smashed up and his boys frightened out of their wits, so he’d had her arrested.

“That’s all I want, wee Jonnie and Jamie back.”

“And you will as long as you continue to fight your addiction. You’ve made a great start. Keep it up and one day you will be reunited with your boys.”

The thought cheered her and she reached forward to pat Freya’s hand. “Thanks very much hen, I always feel better after talking to you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The cheek of that bastard, he never wanted kids in the first place. Didnae want to wear a condom cos he said it wasnae comfy so he always got aff at Paisley, if you know wit I mean. I told him that disnae work, it’s an old wives’ tale but he didnae believe me, not even when I fell pregnant with the first wean. So he did it again and when I got pregnant with Jamie he said, aye hen, maybe you’re right aboot that. Now he always wears a wee rubber jaiket, or at least he used to. He’s no touched me in ages.”

“Work things out with your boys first, then with Mark. If he sees you trying for them he might be willing to give you a second chance too.”

She nodded miserably, studying the various stains on the front of her white hooded top. “We’ll see. Right, I’ll be aff then. Cheers hen, all the very best to you. See you next week.”

Freya walked her through to reception and waved her out of the main door, watching her amble towards the bus stop. She’d had her driving licence taken off her for drink driving. As she watched her go, heading back to her lonely bedsit to pine for her family, Freya thought how lucky she was to have Craig and their lovely flat. She still couldn’t quite believe he was hers. She kept expecting him to say he’d made a mistake, that he’d got caught up in the drama of The Elemental murders, the pressure of the situation had pushed him into her arms and he didn’t feel anything for her except friendship, which he’d mistaken for something more. But that had never happened. Every day he told her he loved her and every day she still found herself unable to really believe it. After her mother died and she’d been taken forcefully from Blair Dubh by Social Services she’d been on her own, no one to love or comfort her. Those long horrendous years had left her indelibly scarred, unable to believe that anyone could ever love her again.

She knew all this because she’d talked it through with Davey, who had counselled her when she’d weaned herself off the drink and who was now her mentor here at the centre. He’d guided her through every part of her training and she adored him. He was a hulking ex-biker with an extensive criminal record who looked terrifying with his prison tattoos, enormous beer gut and huge bushy beard but Freya knew he was a teddy bear with a generous heart.

The man himself popped his head round his office door. “You looked drained. Was that a bad one?”

“Not really, just the usual.”

Davey’s small dark eyes searched hers. “Come on, what’s wrong? Tell Uncle Davey.”

He opened the door wider and nodded sternly for her to enter. Realising it would be futile to protest she walked inside.

He shut the door behind her and regarded her expectantly. “Well?”

“We had the doctor’s appointment.”

“And?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s Craig who can’t have kids.” She raised a wan smile at his surprised expression. “I know, who’d have thought it?”

“No chance at all?”

“A very small one. They reckon we’ll need IVF to conceive and there’s a two year waiting list on the NHS. Going private costs thousands.”

“Oh hell. I’m sorry Freya.”

“Even if we did manage to afford it they said we might have to use donor sperm. I can’t do that, I don’t want another man’s baby growing inside me. How would that make him feel?”

“Oh hen, I know how much you want this,” he said, pulling her into his big chest.

She buried her face in his shoulder when the tears threatened. This wasn’t like her, she rarely cried but this just tore at her heart. “Some men can’t handle it,” she said. “One of my male clients developed an alcohol problem because he and his wife had done that very thing. They couldn’t get pregnant so they had IVF using donor sperm. The husband couldn’t bond with the baby knowing he wasn’t the biological father. It broke them up. What if that happens to us?”

“It won’t. You said yourself there’s still a chance you can conceive.”

“It’s very slim, in fact it’s bloody unlikely.”

“But it’s still a chance. Never give up hope.”

“Well I’m not doing it. I’m not having a baby that isn’t Craig’s.”

Davey knew better than to offer hollow words of comfort so instead he gave her what she really needed. A hug. She clung onto him, fighting not to burst into tears.

“Everything was so perfect and now it’s not,” she said, voice wobbling.

Despite her best efforts not to cry he felt her tears staining the front of his Metallica t-shirt.

“Nothing’s ever perfect, we just do what we can,” he replied. “You and Craig are strong, you’ll get through this. That boy loves you and you love him.”

She looked up at him with sad green eyes. “What if it’s not enough?”

“Don’t be so bloody silly. Now dry your tears,” he said, picking up the box sat on his desk and thrusting it into her hands. “Be careful, you don’t want to smear that eyeliner all over your face,” he said gruffly, making her laugh. “Now we’re going out for lunch.”

“I thought I’d just eat in my office today.”

“On this gorgeous baking hot day. Not a chance. You’re coming out to eat with Uncle Davey if I have to drag you.”

“Not your subtlest persuasive technique.”

“Maybe not but I mean it. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

Such a remark from a big scary-looking man like Davey would have had most people trembling but Freya knew he was only trying to cheer her up. “No need for that, I’ll come quietly,” she said, holding up her hands. “Let me grab my handbag first.”

Freya exited the building with Davey to find Craig leaning against his car reading a newspaper. When he saw her he tossed the newspaper through the open window and moved to greet her.

“This is a surprise,” she smiled, delighted. Because of his erratic working hours he’d never been able to meet her outside work before.

He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her. “I’ve booked some time off. I thought we could go away for a few days.”

“I wish you’d given me some warning. What about work?”

“He’s already cleared it with me,” said Davey, following her out. “Get yourself away hen and enjoy yourself, you could do with a laugh.”

“You knew about this?”

“Course I did. Craig called me this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye I am. It’s already been arranged. Your appointments have been moved and those that couldn’t change I’ll see personally. Get yourself off before I change my mind,” he growled, breaking into a smile when she kissed him on his hairy cheek.

“Thanks Davey.”

He nodded and gave her a wink before sauntering off down the street, enjoying the sunshine.

“What about your work?” she asked Craig. “You’ve just caught a murderer.”

“He confessed and he’s been processed. It’ll take months to get him to trial so I can spare a few days. Besides, there’s five other detectives working on the case.” His eyes lit up with excitement. “Let’s get in the car, I’ve got a surprise.”

He was lucky he had such an understanding DI who had noticed he wasn’t jumping for joy as he should have been over such a high profile arrest. When he’d sat him down in his office to discuss what was bothering him no one had been more surprised than Craig when it all came tumbling out. His DI had told him to take a few days off to get himself together. He was more than aware of the problems he’d had with Mad Mandy too, her release only adding to the urgent need for Craig to get himself and Freya out of the city for a few days. It had worried Craig that the DI agreed she was as dangerous as he suspected.

Bewildered but nevertheless excited Freya climbed into the car, puzzled when he drove them out of the city.

“Where are we going?” she said.

“You’ll see,” he replied with a grin.

“Have you heard anything about Mandy?”

His smile dropped. “She was released this morning.”

“So she’s not going to prison this time?”

“No, she just got a fine.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous.”

“Her lawyer’s too good. One of her wealthy admirers paid for him so she can afford the best. On the bright side we can go for a non-harassment order instead. The penalties are more severe than an interdict but it’s possible we might get called into court to give evidence to get one of those.”

“Anything to get her out of our hair. Is this why you’ve arranged this little trip?”

“One reason.”

Freya nodded. “Knowing that mad cow she’ll be back at our flat soon.”

“Exactly and I don’t want us to be there when she turns up.” He’d never voiced his fear that one day Mandy would be pushed too far and would resort to more extreme measures. She wanted Freya out of the way and he was terrified that she’d try and get rid of her permanently. Freya was tough, God knew she’d had to be, but she couldn’t beat a lunatic with a knife or a gun. It was his worst nightmare and he found it so frustrating that he, a police officer, couldn’t protect his own wife from his crazy ex.

They drove for about an hour, leaving the city behind, heading south towards the town of Greenock, continuing through that on to the small village of Inverkip famous for its marina.

“What are we doing here?” she frowned when he pulled the car to a halt in the marina car park.

“You’ll see in a minute, have some patience,” he said, jumping out of the car.

His enthusiasm was infectious and excitedly she climbed out too. He took her hand and led her down to the dock where dozens of vessels were berthed. It was the height of summer and the water was already teeming with small pleasure craft, yachts and fishing boats.

She tried not to think about the swaying beneath her feet as they negotiated the complicated rabbit warren, the dock branching out in many different directions.

“Here,” he said, stopping before a luxury motorboat. “What do you think?”

She gaped at the gleaming white boat. “It’s gorgeous. Why?”

“It’s ours.”

“Oh my God Craig, please tell me you haven’t bought it, we can’t afford this. Did you sign anything or have you seized it from a drug dealer?”