Dark of Night

  Dark of Night

  Deadly Highlands book 1

  Oliver Davies

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  7. Caitlin

  8. Shay

  Chapter 9

  10. Caitlin

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  14. Shay

  Chapter 15

  16. Caitlin

  Chapter 17

  18. Shay

  Chapter 19

  20. Caitlin

  Chapter 21

  22. Shay

  Chapter 23

  24. Shay

  25. Caitlin

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  A Message from the Author

  Prologue

  Conall and Shay leaned side by side on the railing of the second-floor balcony, watching the lightning lash furiously at the mountains looming darkly to the south. Then the first, gargantuan thunderclap boomed across the sky, rolling over their insignificance and out to sea, drowning out all other sounds, stunning in its intensity. The lights of every villa, every street light in sight were instantly extinguished, leaving only the intermittent lightning to strobe the impenetrable blackness in rapid, randomly scattered bursts. A dramatic pause, as if now that the drumroll was over, the curtains could be raised, and the real show could begin.

  The cousins stepped back in readiness, just a couple of paces each. There was no wind, and the overhanging roof was shelter enough.

  Then it came, the unnatural, sudden silence broken by a downpour that sprang instantaneously into being, no prelude of lonely drops, just a full-flooded deluge, riven from the burnt, cracked heavens, a noise like hailstones, like a hillside of scree in unstoppable motion, like a raging waterfall. They caught each other’s glances as the lightning flashed again and headed indoors. You just had to love Crete! All this extravagant drama after an afternoon swim in a warm, friendly sea. The sunshine had been intense, and the cooling dives a luxurious pleasure.

  Shay flicked on his phone flashlight and clattered downstairs with his cousin on his heels.

  “Power’s out!” Dana called to them from her room, as they hurried past and down again.

  “You don’t say?” Conall yelled back up at her, and they heard her brief laugh as they cut through the living room. Reaching the kitchen, Shay went straight for the overhead cupboard in the corner and opened it to reveal the gleam of curved glassware reflecting the light from his phone back to them, beautified and glittering. He gestured for Conall to start grabbing the lamps from the top shelf.

  “You do know I’m only an inch taller than you, right?” Conall grumbled.

  “Fine, you take the light and move out of the way then. That should speed things up,”

  “No, fair point... I can’t believe you already know where everything is. We’ve only been here half a day.”

  “I had a quick nosy when I was making coffee earlier.” He said it defensively, as if he’d been caught doing something naughty.

  Well, yes, Conall thought, after all, he was supposed to be on holiday, at least trying to relax, and he bloody well knew it. Shay was the reason, in fact, that Conall had organised this trip and roped a couple of old friends in, people who’d known them forever. Liam and Marie had, incomprehensibly, become a couple a few years back, surprising everyone. Those two had always been fighting on those long Summer digs when they were all kids.

  Shay’s mild-mannered father usually only became ‘The Mad Professor’ when those two’s antics had pulled him away from his work to yell at them. “I am trying to run an important excavation here! You do realise that we only have six weeks left before our licence expires and we have to pack up? You thoughtless, idiotic brats!” His face, the way it would turn crimson all the way up to the hairline. Poor Uncle Diarmuid. Maybe he should just have confined them all to a holiday camp somewhere... with Shay-proof guards patrolling the perimeter! Hah! Good luck finding any of those!

  Marie’s other two friends, Dana and Michelle, seemed ok, although Conall didn’t really know them very well. Michelle’s ‘besties’ from Uni, an inseparable trio during those years. He’d only met them, briefly, a few times. Liam had thought this would be more fun with a bigger group, and Marie had leapt at the chance to ask them along. She didn’t want to be the ‘only girl’ in the group, and Mair and Jen had both had other plans.

  “Fine.” Conall had agreed, “Just tell them not to get pushy around him. He’ll decide for himself if he wants to make friends. You know he can’t be rushed on things like that.”

  “How is he? Really?” Liam had asked. Conall had not been sure what to say.

  “It’s hard to tell, with Shay. “ Which they, at least, had understood perfectly. “He warned me beforehand that he’d be unreachable for a bit. I don’t know where he was, or what he was working on all last month, but I haven’t seen him like this since after Beirut.”

  “Right.” Marie had said, tight-lipped and pale all of a sudden. “I’ll make sure to warn them to give him some space.”

  Conall reached for the last lamp as Michelle stuck her head through the archway, a lit-up phone in her hand.

  “Oh, good! You’ve found oil lamps! I was going to look for candles.”

  “They’re in that drawer there, left of the cooker,” Shay told her as Conall carefully deposited the third lamp on the counter. “Long matches behind the brown pot on the shelf over there.” Conall grinned.

  “Candlesticks?” he asked.

  “Living room cabinet, top-shelf.”

  “How many?”

  “Five. Brass. Piss off!” Michelle gave them an odd look, catching on.

  “What’s in that drawer then?” she asked. Shay glowered at her.

  “Your trapped fingers in a minute,” he muttered. Conall snorted. He took the offered matches from her and coaxed the first lamp to life before replacing the glass chimney.

  “Play nicely, Cuz,” he admonished. He adjusted the wick as another roll of thunder passed overhead. Not as loud, that one and he thought the rain might be easing a fraction. The lamp threw a surprisingly good light. “We might need more oil if this blackout lasts…” Wordlessly, Shay pulled the closet door open and reached up, his hand emerging clutching an old wine bottle, corked by a rolled-up rag. Michelle squeaked.

  “Pleeease, Shay, do play nicely.” He handed the bottle to Conall, folded his arms and leaned against the counter.

  “Fine! Empty, folded carrier bags, a roll of bin bags, kitchen scissors, a screwdriver, pliers, string, rubber bands and a broken mouse trap.” Shay recited obligingly. Michelle finished checking before she clapped.

  “This is fun!” she told them.

  “No, it’s boring.” Shay contradicted her. “And I don’t want to ‘play’ any more, so don’t even think of it.”

  “Ooh, is it going to pout? I hope it pouts. I bet Shay pouts adorably.”

  “Stop being mean to my cousin,” Conall warned her, making it sound flippant, but sending her a ‘back the hell off’ gesture that Shay couldn’t see. Michelle seemed nice enough, and nobody could deny that she was very attractive, but if she started trailing around after Shay with her tongue hanging out, she’d become a person of zero interest to her quarry, frozen out and ignored. This entire trip would become a nightmare for all of them. Conall grabbed the biggest lamp and secured it with an elbow before picking up the oil bottle with his free hand. “Shay, grab the other two lamps. Michelle, bring the candles and matches.”

  In the spacious living room they lit the other two lamps and placed them all s
o that the area with the couches and easy chairs forming a square around the enormous coffee table felt cosy and warm in their yellow glow, Dana, Liam, and Marie wandered in and made themselves comfortable, killing their harsh phone lights.

  “Very nice,” Marie declared approvingly. “Nicer than before the power went out. Film’s cancelled, though. I’m not squeezing up with you lot to watch it on a laptop.”

  “Who wants more wine?” Liam asked, grabbing the open bottle that had been breathing on the sideboard. He got a “Me!”, “I do!”, “Yes please!”, and, finally, a synchronised, doubtful, “Go on then,” from the cousins. Liam blinked. “Right. I’d better get the next one open ready too then, while I’m at it.” Once everyone had their glasses and was settled, Michelle asked, “What are we going to do then? Play games? Tell stories?”

  “Stories!” Dana said eagerly. “I want to know how Conall got that long scar all down his side.”

  “I thought we’d all come on holiday to forget about our jobs for a week?” Conall objected.

  “So you got it at work? Chasing villains? Car crash? What?”

  “Investigating a murder, actually. A couple of years ago, up in Inverness. I got a few broken bones that time, as well as this souvenir.” He gestured to his side. “Luckily, Shay was there, to make sure I’d be ok.” Marie perked up at that. “That actually sounds interesting. I like a good crime thriller.”

  Conall didn’t mind, really, but he wasn’t sure that Shay wouldn’t. He glanced over to where his cousin had tucked himself up in a shadowed armchair. Shay shrugged noncommittally. Taking that as tacit permission, Conall began.

  One

  Gareth sighed contentedly and leaned back in his chair. Their Mary made a grand stew, good as her mother’s, if he was honest. Aye, Janet would be so proud of their lass if she could only see her now. Gareth wondered every day if he would ever get used to his wife’s absence. The pain was duller now, of course, but seven years after they’d lost her, Janet still occupied many of his quiet moments and, many a night, sweetly haunted his better dreams. Not that he talked to her or anything, when he was alone. None o’ that. He’d not gone daft.

  Grunting, Gareth creaked stiffly out of his chair. It had been a long, hard day. March was never a month to allow for any slacking, not with the new lambs coming so thick and fast. He gathered up his dishes and put them by the sink, pausing to drink down the rest of his tea before turning the tap. Washing up was a quick task these days. One mug, one plate, one fork, one lidded dish to go back to Mary in the morning, up at the main house. He left it all drying in the rack, put the rest of the loaf away and wiped down the counter. He might just read a bit before he went up to bed. It was still early, not even half seven yet. His own reflection in the window caught his eye for a moment, and he eyed it sourly. “Handsome enough for me ye are, ye daft lump.” And Janet’s fingers, waggling his cheek fondly in a soft, painless pinch. He smiled at the remembered feel of it. How often had she done that?

  Black as pitch out there, the night. It had been dark when he got in an hour ago, but that was March for you, lighter than early winter, sure, but by now a body was aching for the longer days to come back again, the soft, golden glow of endless summer evenings. Gareth flicked the light switch off, just the light from the hall behind him, then as he checked that he’d unplugged the kettle, turned off the gas properly. What was that? He turned his attention back to the window. Torches, flicking in and out of view over the field behind his cottage, down by the stream. Gareth huffed. He’d told young Jessica Ramsay to warn her hippie pals off his land. That was all they needed, daft-headed kids spooking the ewes down in the lambing pens with their ruckus. Oh aye, he knew what they were like, drinking too much and smoking their wacky baccy, and the Lord knew what else.

  Their Iain had been like that, back before he grew up a bit and settled down to a steady job. Not made to be a farmer, their boy. Clever as you like though, and doing well for himself, over in Canada; although a father could hope for a nice girl to tie his lad down properly. Get him real grounded, that would.

  The torches seemed to be more or less motionless now, as if their bearers were quite happy where they were. Right. He’d better go and have a word before they got too comfy—as if anyone in their right mind would want to sit around in the cold and dark, anyway. Strange idea of fun, some people had. Gareth pulled his jacket and hat back on in the hallway, then went through the little kitchen and out the back. More heavy rain coming tonight, he was sure of it. Those low, heavy clouds were preparing to let rip sometime soon.

  He walked down quietly, leaving his own torch off for now. His feet knew where they were going well enough. He’d walked this way enough times lately to have made a few compacted paths of flattened grass to guide his steps by. Maybe he wanted to make them jump a bit, startle them like, for making him leave the cosy warmth of the cottage. The last bit was the trickiest in the dark. Gareth couldn’t remember the last time he’d been down at the burn and the ground became lumpier and wetter this far down, and more overgrown.

  He could see two of them now, lads, he thought, although the bulky coats made him uncertain of that. They were pointing their lights at the grass, as if they’d dropped something. Gareth stopped a few feet away. They didn’t even notice him there. He decided to announce himself. “Alright boys,” he said, and yes, one of them really jumped at that, “Back over the stream with you now. Off my field with you, before you scare my ewes and lose me any lambs.” He flicked his torch on and pointed it at the nearest figure. Nobody he recognised, not from the village. “And I’ll be having a word with Jessica’s uncle about unwanted trespassers too.” He moved his torch over to light up the next face and froze momentarily, shocked. Now there was an unexpected sight for sure.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, feeling a rare anger building. His torch wavered, and he steadied it to the side of that unwelcome visitation, puzzled by what he now saw. “And why have you brought that thing onto my land?” He heard a soft step behind him and turned, too slowly, too late, as something fast and heavy slammed into the side of his head.

  Gareth felt himself falling, felt the ground meet him. Felt absolutely nothing more.

  Two

  The blasted phone was relentless, chiming loudly and persistently for my attention as I struggled to attain consciousness, like it could happily keep this up all day if it had to. I really didn’t appreciate its attitude just then. What time was it anyway? I grabbed the noisy monster from the bedside table and silenced it with a vicious swipe.

  “DCI Keane here,” I managed to croak through a dry mouth as I rolled over and shoved the duvet away, so I could sit up and get my feet on the floor.

  “And a very good morning to you too,” my partner, DS Caitlin Murray, said cheerfully, then continued more sympathetically. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Conall, but we’ve got an unplanned, early start to our day today. DC Walker just called me from the station to say McKinnon wants us to pop in up at HQ. He’ll be expecting us to be there by half-past six.” Area Commander, James McKinnon was a great boss, so it had to be something important. I peered blearily at the screen clock. It was nearly quarter to now. Technically, I was also ‘the boss,’ to my own department, but I’d soon trained Caitlin out of ever calling me that.

  I heard a quiet thud over the line as Caitlin dropped something, a boot perhaps. She’d be stumbling around her bedroom, her phone on speaker, trying to find things and get organised. Not the tidy type, Caitlin, a bit like my Da, that way. She grunted, and I pictured her groping around under the bed, one-handed. “I don’t know what the rush is about yet, but you know McKinnon, he doesn’t mess us around.” No, he didn’t. James McKinnon was a great guy to work under, the best I’d encountered, so far, and he wouldn’t drag me up to HQ over something trivial, especially so early in the day.

  “Got’cha. Message received. I’ll see you there, Caitlin.”

  “Hmmm, but you’re planning to make it a quick shower first
, aren’t you?” She knew me too well. I liked a good twenty minutes, usually. She’d given up hanging around at the gym to wait for me to finish months ago.

  “I’m not driving in half-asleep, DS Murray!” An accusing silence, waiting. “Alright, I’ll make it a quick one, okay?”

  “Good. I’ll stop off to grab us some good coffee. Just hurry it up Conall.” She rang off, and I stumbled for the bathroom.

  I was in and out of the shower, regretfully, in ten minutes, scrubbed and feeling a bit fresher. My reflection, as I grabbed my toothbrush and looked in the mirror after, did not agree with that sensation. Sleep-deprived wide grey eyes blinked back at me over cheekbones that were looking a little too prominent.

  Yes, it had been a bit of a late night. Jen had been in town for a couple of days, and well, we’d hooked up again, like we occasionally did when we were both single, a pair of serial monogamists. No harm in it. We were just friends who enjoyed each other. No awkwardness, no disappointments. It had been well after one when I’d got back in. We’d gone on like that for years, on and off, ever since uni.

  Done with scraping the fur from my tongue with the back of my brush, I examined my teeth, which felt a lot nicer now than they had in the shower and reached for my shaving cream. I smiled to myself as I lathered it on, unable to regret the loss of a few hours’ sleep as I thought about my time with Jen the night before. I hadn’t been anticipating an early call this morning, but I wouldn’t have acted any differently if I had. It had been a few months since we’d last seen each other, and an evening with her had been just what the doctor ordered. We’d caught up on all the latest gossip about the old gang over a couple of drinks, getting slightly giddy, more from anticipation than from our modest alcohol consumption, giggling like idiots over the idea of Liam and Marie as a couple. That was so bizarre; I just couldn’t picture them together like that. Neither of us could. We’d sneaked into her hotel, after, like a couple of freshmen, as if we were back in the student residences again.