Blind Spot (DI Sutherland Scottish Crime Thriller Book 3) Read online

  Blind Spot

  A DI Sutherland Scottish Crime Thriller

  Oliver Davies

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  2. Dominic

  3. Dominic

  4. Dominic

  5. Ray

  6. Dominic

  7. Dominic

  8. Dominic

  9. Dominic

  10. Dominic

  11. Dominic

  12. Dominic

  13. Dominic

  14. Dominic

  15. Dominic

  16. Ray

  17. Dominic

  18. Dominic

  19. Dominic

  20. Dominic

  21. Bonnie

  22. Dominic

  23. Dominic

  24. Dominic

  25. Dominic

  26. Ray

  27. Dominic

  28. Dominic

  Epilogue

  A Message from the Author

  Prologue

  “Would you quit staring?”

  At my not-so-polite request, the curtain of lashes blinked, and the gaze of the two wide eyes averted towards my rumpled tie instead. Silently noting their ability to say a thousand words without actually saying them at all, I subconsciously straightened the silken material. Observed the lines adorning the face of the constable who used to work beneath me, which always seemed odd to say, as she was ever so slightly older than most of us at CID.

  “Sorry.” I apologised immediately after snapping at Annie. “I tend to get pretty crabby in the mornings these days, especially when there’s a lack of coffee available.” I lied and gestured towards our surroundings, aware that it was an accumulation of many things that were making me snap. Pressure for one. Anticipation for another. If I were to go on, I’d say nerves were another. Of wanting this to go seamlessly, afraid of screwing it up or failing point-blank.

  “Mornings never were your strongest point, I seem to remember. ‘These days’ have nothing to do with it,” Annie stated with a smirk, sparing me from a bout of blushes, and it was enough to tell me all was forgiven. Her inability to hold a grudge, perhaps even when there was cause to, still managed to astonish me. “Oh aye, I knew what I was letting myself in for when I agreed to meet you at the crack of dawn.”

  “Are you getting all nostalgic on me, Annie?”

  She shrugged. “Just taking note, that’s all. Saying what I see.”

  “And what do you see?”

  Annie shrugged, and it was at that moment that I wondered if I’d regret asking. “Maturity. A beard that is trimmed better than it was during your younger days. I see how some things about you have stayed the same about you, sir, and with that, I’m talking about the crumpled-ness of your clothes. But also how other things have changed. Truth be told, I’m struggling to get over how different you look. I’m face to face with my old friend, but it’s like you’re only half of who you used to be. The other half is a whole new person, a husband and a father, equipped with some of the traits I have dearly missed.”

  Eloquent and soft-spoken, Annie had a way of wording things to seem calm but also impactful. So much so that nothing I said next would put into sentences exactly what I wanted to say.

  “Crumpled-ness?” I raised my brow, not quite certain whether it was due to her still calling me sir, despite me being nothing of the sort to her anymore, or the word she’d made up of her own accord. I knew firsthand that such titles could become a habit, a habit that couldn’t be forgotten easily.

  “Just how long has it been since I last saw you?”

  “Two days.”

  It seemed recently that DCI Aikman’s sofa bed had a permanent outline of my body and the photograph I carried around of Bonnie and the kids had a greasy residue on the paper from where I kissed their tiny foreheads each night. I had only planned to visit our old hometown of Greenock for a week at the very least, then return to my life, and the station located miles away that I now called mine. Now, it was blindingly obvious that all of my original plans had gone out the window. Visiting all my old haunts and meeting up again with these charming old friends we’d left behind was enough to convince even the stubbornest of people to change their minds. And I wouldn’t say I was that stubborn.

  No, I’d extended my stay for another few weeks following the phone conversation I’d had with Bonnie concerning what was best for our children, and in an entirely selfish way, what would be best for us, too. Friends, a social life, mentors that could shape the kids' futures. Everything we hadn’t thought about all those years ago when convincing ourselves a move to London would solve our troubles.

  An elbow jammed into my ribcage, and I crashed back to earth.

  “You know what I meant,” Annie expressed, flailing her hands. “Before that. It must be a couple of years, if not more than that? I wondered, to myself, of course, why you didn’t come back more often and catch up with us. I know we talk on the phone and all, but you can’t tell me it’s the same. Because it isn’t. Not in the slightest.”

  “It wasn’t that simple.” I twisted the ring on my finger, thinking about it all. “Sometimes, when you’re away from somewhere for too long, your imagination is free to run riot. To make that place seem worse than it is or that it’s changed too much for you to even dream of returning to. Finally breaking that barrier by coming back proved that it wasn’t half as soul-destroying as I’d remembered or imagined it to be.”

  “Then there’s your pride to factor in too,” Annie mumbled and pursed her lips, accidentally kicking a piece of gravel across the street of the neighbourhood we were walking through.

  “Huh?” I had heard her very clearly. I just wanted an explanation.

  She sized me up before deciding whether to repeat her point. “Admitting you made a mistake. You and Bonnie were always quite stubborn in that respect, if you don’t mind me saying so. Got yourselves into quite a few scrapes that probably could have been avoided if you weren’t so…”

  “Headstrong,” I interjected before another word could be used in its place. One which wasn’t quite as polite. She was right in the way that mothers often were without even trying to be. For Bonnie and I to admit we made a mistake with our choices in the past was probably the hardest part about all of this. We’d been taught a lesson, too. That whilst running away works for some long-term, it doesn’t for others.

  “Can always count on you to point out our faults.” I shook my head. “To humble us and to teach us as well.”

  “I’ve found that honesty is the best policy. Mostly.”

  “Hence why I asked you here with me, apart from wanting to spend some time with you before my stay in Greenock ends. I could have asked the chief, but–”

  “He’s crass rather than honest?” Annie suggested with a twinkle glittering away in her iris.

  I nodded and gestured towards the neighbourhood of bricked houses standing shoulder to shoulder with each other, which didn’t appear too dissimilar from any others. There was a park at the end of the neighbourhood and a couple of stray dog walkers roaming the path. Well, a few youths here and there too, but none of them which couldn’t be sorted with a sharp word or two. I pointed specifically towards the house with the for sale sign stuck into the dead patch of grass, which was no more than a small square at best. Gloomy from the outside, the house seemed to be crammed into the gap between two others. The porch was slim, with a front door equally so, and the windows had cracked paintwork along the edges. It was hard to disguise the drooping of my smile.

  “House hunting,” Annie hummed, taking in the same sight. “When you told me t
he other night that you were both discussing the possibility of moving back to Greenock full time and leaving the big city behind, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Thought you’d change your minds soon enough or decide it was too much of a whim, too big a step to take. But now we’re here. I presume this means it’s official?”

  Taking in the full extent of the grotty house in front of us, I wavered.

  “It’s early days yet. We have to find somewhere that suits our family first and our budget second. Until then, it’s all nothing more than a moment of madness that could still blow up in my face and prove my fears right that I am indeed going through a midlife crisis,” I rubbed my cheeks, more tired than I’d given myself credit for. “This is the first house I’ve agreed to see in person. The estate agents I rang up couldn’t help but feel it was easier to start searching for homes whilst I was actually in Greenock, rather than merely rifling through pictures on a website that purposely don’t show potential buyers the leaking taps and creaky stairs.”

  Patting my arm empathetically, Annie tried her best to stay positive.

  “A tap can always be fixed.”

  “It’s a feeling, too,” I emphasised. “If I fall in love with somewhere, then I can have the confidence that Bonnie will too. Since she’s stuck down in the city doing the never-ending school runs, it’s up to me to report back to her whether any of the houses the agents suggest are up to scratch. Of course, she says it doesn’t matter what the house we decide upon looks like from the outside, so long as it’s got an island in the kitchen that’s big enough to serve family dinners, enough rooms in the house for everyone to have their own and that I think I can see us all settling in there. But, if I get it wrong, I’m sure she’ll have something to say about it. Especially if she could see this one from the outside.”

  “That’s us women for you,” Annie chortled and brushed a blonde curl out of her vision. “Is that why I’m really here, sir? To act as a replacement for your wife whilst she’s stuck miles away, ultimately ensuring you end up in her good books by the end of it all?”

  I grimaced. “You have the feminine eye. And with a child of your own too–”

  “Sammy isn’t such a child anymore, though he’ll always be my little boy,” she admitted. “He can’t get rid of his mother that easily.”

  I spared her a similar pat on the arm. “Nonetheless, you know how much space children need as they blossom and grow into teenagers, then eventually young adults. We want this next home to be a family home that we grow old in.” I secretly crossed my fingers that all of those days I had listed were a long way away for us yet. “Last time we lived here, we were childless and young, and we didn’t have to worry about such things. You did. You’re the only person we know who could recommend decent schools and afterschool programs and–”

  “I get it,” she stifled a laugh at my rambling. “You’ve almost convinced yourself this is the right thing to do. Now all you need is some reassurance. See, you have changed. The inspector I once knew rarely needed reassurance. Help, aye. Plenty of it.”

  I did. I just wasn’t a man who enjoyed publicising it back then, I thought to myself. Taking a lungful of cool morning air, I let the freshness stay in my lungs for longer than normal. Letting the rejuvenating features wash away the tension that resides there. Rolled my shoulders too, in search of the same effect. Convinced myself to look up at the house again, at the grotty paint chips and the slim porch, hoping I’d find something encouraging that would spark some excitement to delve into the inside.

  So far, there wasn’t any.

  “I’m using up all my annual leave to be here,” I grumbled, and the distaste didn’t go amiss.

  “They got you working like a dog down there, that southern team of yours?” Annie pulled her knitted cardigan further around her chest. Saving her from the bitter chill. “Only, you rarely talk about them.”

  “It’s a busy place and a busy station.” I shrugged unenthusiastically. “There’s always something to do and the same old cases to crack on with. Mostly car burglaries or drunken break-ins. You’d be surprised at how many of those we get. Before I know it, I’ll get swept up in the wave of, caught in the thick of it. Months will pass me by.”

  “If you’re so busy with those burglaries, then why are you deciding to make this drastic change all of a sudden?” Her gentle voice dripped with suspicion. “Unless those cases are duller than you’re letting on, and you’re missing the excitement we all used to have, missing the things the team used to talk about. The stories we used to share of our endeavours when we spent time together. There’s no shame in it,” Annie said defiantly, and she almost appeared to be talking about herself. “No shame in it at all. Only, I can’t find another reason. And you know me. I have to find out these sorts of things, or else I’ll lie awake all night trying to think of one. If I can’t, it’ll drive me up the wall.”

  I rubbed my neck sheepishly. “That could be it. Could be because we’re tired of running. Could be both.”

  Annie screwed her nose up at the muddled answer, deciphering it piece by piece. “I thought you two wanted to disappear to a place where you could begin again? To leave it all behind you? I mean, you clearly failed to do so, but that’s beside the point.”

  “It was the fresh start that we needed at that time to rejuvenate us. However, looking back on it, we were running away from the ruins that we left here. That we had a hand in causing, that maybe, just maybe, where there are ghosts and ghouls, there’s also gold. Gold being the people who were there for you during those dark times and saw you at rock bottom, yet still stood by your side, who are still standing firmly by our sides.” I pushed my shoulder into hers, and she couldn’t help but turn a light shade of pink.

  “I see. London is an island, Greenock is a village. Or a series of villages where everybody goes out of their way to know each other. To help each other through thick and thin. People who go out of their way to pick each other up with a neighbourly hand and a promise not to mention it again.”

  We found ourselves walking closer towards the for sale sign in unison at the sight of the estate agent's car pulling up to the curb, looking both ways across the road before crossing. It was something we’d learned when hearing the saying too many times and seeing the posters pinned up in the reception of the station.

  “Despite the somewhat muddled metaphor, you’re right.” My boots creaked at the heel. “We had a network here in Inverclyde, which was built over a lifetime. Friends and teammates who were closer to us than anyone else. I, for one, thought the big city was full of wonder and amazement. For a while, it was. Similarly, there’s been something missing in our lives there that I couldn’t put my finger on, but it was always bubbling away beneath the surface. I couldn’t help but think, why? I mean, I had everything I ever wanted. A beautiful woman, a content marriage, three children who I couldn’t adore more if I tried, and a role as an inspector in a busy and esteemed station.”

  “And what was it?”

  “Homesickness. In a weird and unexplainable way, we’ve been homesick for a long time, and we didn’t even realise it. Even after all this town did to us. I’m starting to believe we’re all connected to it in some form. That our blood runs right through the centre of it. I suppose it does.” Images of bullet wounds flashed before me, deaths and gravestones lined up in the cemetery that were tied to our names. To our cases. To our hearts.

  “It must be the porridge,” Annie decided when we’d reached the other side of the road. “Nobody makes it like we do.”

  “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed a bit,” I chuckled. “Still content with eating and praising that ridiculous muck of syrup. There were times in the office when the very smell of that stuff would make me feel nauseous. That’s not to mention you’re still living in the same place that you always have done and are intent on caring for your son with everything you have–”

  “You don’t have to make me sound so dull, sir.”

  “It’s not du
ll. It shows you’ve found peace and that you’re hanging onto it.”

  Annie glowed. “Well, when you put it like that. It’s nice to hear some optimism coming from your direction for a change. I was beginning to wonder if there was any inside of you this morning.”

  “So was I. Speaking of optimism…”

  The red-skinned estate agent had already clambered out from his car that had their logo slapped on the side and was waving the keys in the air for all on the street to see. We could practically spot the sweat pouring from his palms from a mile off. When he bid us good morning in his preppy, upbeat, salesman style fashion and damply shook our hands in turn, I glanced down subconsciously at Annie’s shorter figure to see how she was reacting to him. She had a willingness about her to converse with the estate agent for our sakes, a kindness that didn’t give away whether the pure volume of his greeting took aback her. I also noticed the surprising burst of pride in my chest at the very sight.

  I knew how it was to feel let down. Alone. Out of faith and out of hope. Certain that nothing could get any better, that being stuck in a lonely rut was my future. The young Dominic Sutherland would never have stopped to think that having a family of his own, that having decent people by his side through thick and thin was even a possibility. He once believed that having a support system was weak. It wasn’t weak. It was anything but weak. I’d grown to accept we all needed guidance, people who weren’t there to judge but rather to help dust ourselves off and set us on the right path again. The metaphorical village that Annie had mentioned previously. Otherwise, we would lose that sacred hope we were all born with. And what were we exactly when we’d lost all hope? When we’d succumbed to the gloom, as much as the house in front of us had done?