Against a Dark Sky

AGAINST

A

DARK SKY

By

KATHERINE

PATHAK

A DCI Dani Bevan novel

© Katherine Pathak, All Rights Reserved, 2014

© Front Cover design, All Rights Reserved, Catacol Bay Images, 2014

The Garansay Press



Books by Katherine Pathak

The Imogen and Hugh Croft Mysteries:

Aoife’s Chariot

The Only Survivor

Lawful Death

The Woman who Vanished

Memorial for the Dead

(Introducing DCI Dani Bevan)

Short Stories:

Full Beam

DCI Dani Bevan novels:

Against a Dark Sky



The Garansay Press

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems - without the prior permission in writing of the author and publishers.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

© Katherine Pathak, 2014



The Garansay Press

Chapter One

The Trossachs National Park, Loch Lomond. Scotland.

‘C
an we stop for a second, whilst I take off my fleece?’

              ‘Sure, no problem.’ James Irving stood still and surveyed the landscape. The sun was very bright. It beamed down upon them from its highest point in the sky. The group had been hiking for a couple of hours already and despite the fact it was mid-October, the walkers were beginning to feel hot. James turned his gaze towards Joanna as she pulled the sweater over her head. Her t-shirt lifted up along with it and revealed a brief glimpse of the smooth bare flesh underneath. His eyes lingered there for a moment before she tugged it back down again.

              ‘Okay,’ Joanna declared. ‘Are we ready to carry on?’

              ‘Is this where the path gets steeper?’ Philippa Graves asked.

              ‘Yes, there’s something of a scramble as we approach the west ridge, but then we’ll see the burn cascading down the mountainside next to us as we climb. It’s pretty spectacular. You don’t get anything nearly as impressive along the tourist path.’ Joanna Endicott smiled, with the easy confidence for which she was renowned amongst her friends and colleagues.

              The other two men in the group remained silent. James noted the expression of sheer determination on the face of Amit Batra whom he knew was itching to ‘bag’ his first Munro. Daniel Goff, on the other hand, he couldn’t really read. Goff was a friend of Joanna’s from her university days and James had only met him once before. The man appeared to be kitted out in all the latest gear. Irving suspected this ascent wouldn’t pose too much of a challenge for him.

              The group had set out that morning from the converted bothy they’d rented for the week. They intended to climb Scotland’s southernmost Munro, Ben Lomond. Joanna had organised the trip, bringing together some of her workmates and a few likeminded pals who fancied a walking holiday in the Scottish hills. James worked with Joanna as a corporate lawyer in the City of London. When she suggested the idea of an autumn break, he found himself keen to agree. Irving didn’t often get the chance to return to the country of his birth.

              The views from the Ptarmigan path did prove to be outstanding. There had been a significant amount of rainfall over the past few weeks and the burn gushed down the hillside in a series of dramatic waterfalls. Daniel Goff surprised James by bringing a slim-line digital camera out of his rucksack and proceeding to snap away at the sights. Philippa Graves took the opportunity to pause for a rest-break, breathing heavily and placing a hand on the small of her back.

              ‘How’re you doing?’ James asked her lightly.

              ‘I wasn’t expecting the pace to be quite so brisk,’ the young woman replied. ‘I must be really unfit.’ She managed a weak smile.

              ‘Hey, Jo!’ James called ahead. ‘Philippa and I might drop back a bit. We’re finding the going fairly tough on this steeper section.’

              ‘Fine!’ the blond woman shouted in return, giving her friend the thumbs-up.

              ‘That was very gentlemanly of you, thanks,’ Philippa said as she fell into step beside James and the others strode off in front.

              ‘Well, I’m here to enjoy the scenery. Not take part in a bloody race.’

At 2,000 feet, James and Philippa found themselves ascending into a thick mist. Previously, they had been able to see the outlines of the other three in the distance. Now, they couldn’t make out anything at all up ahead.

              ‘Is this what it’s always like at the top of a mountain?’ Philippa enquired tentatively.

              ‘It can be. If the weather’s not great and the cloud cover is lying low. We’re only at the top of the ridge, I’m afraid. The summit is still over a thousand feet away.’

              Philippa looked crestfallen. James had to admit he was disappointed too. From this point, they should have been able to see Loch Lomond in the west and the Arrochar Alps to the north of them. But with this level of visibility, James thought he’d be lucky to see his hand in front of his face if they climbed any higher.

              ‘It’s getting cold,’ Philippa complained, before reaching into her rucksack to locate a rain jacket.

              James put his on as well, zipping it up tight under his chin. He wondered if it was purely a figment of his imagination that the clouds were growing steadily darker, so they now resembled a blanket of thick, swirling smoke, billowing from some kind of huge, industrial chimney. The wind seemed to be getting up too. He considered whether or not he’d remembered to put his gloves into the bag when they set off that morning from the cottage.

              ‘Shouldn’t we all be sticking together?’ Philippa said, trying to peer further along the ridge. ‘I can’t see Jo anywhere.’

              James furrowed his brow, annoyed that the rest of the group hadn’t stopped to check on them. It was one of the first rules of hill climbing - you went at the speed of the slowest walker. If he hadn’t decided to drop back, would the other three simply have allowed Philippa to get left behind? James gazed about him at the gathering gloom. ‘The weather’s closing in. I don’t think we should carry on.’

              The woman beside him let out an unattractive snort of relief. ‘Gosh, I’m so glad you said that.’

              Irving retrieved his mobile phone from a trouser pocket and flicked on the screen. ‘Shit. No reception.’               Philippa tried hers but found the same. ‘Can we head back without them?’

              James thought for a moment. ‘If we proceed down the ridge, we may pick up a signal at a lower altitude. Then we can try to get a message to the others.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Jo can see what’s happening with the weather, just as well as I can. It must be even worse up there. Why the hell is she continuing up the mountain?’

              ‘You know what she’s like,’ Philippa commented quietly.

              James did know. His colleague and friend was clever, kind and damned attractive, but she was also incredibly bloody-minded and stubborn. ‘Come on,’ he ordered. ‘Let’s go. We can do more good by getting off this hillside and fetching help rather than standing here catching our deaths of the cold.’

*

Chapter Two

T
he two walkers descended the ridge rapidly. James sent a text to Joanna and Amit’s mobile phones, letting them know he and Philippa were heading back down. He had no idea if either of them received it.

              By the time the pair had passed through the valley between Tom Fitich and Tom Eas, rain had begun to fall in sheets from the leaden sky, driven into their faces by a sharp, southerly wind. James glanced over his shoulder every five minutes. He wanted to see if he could spot the rest of their group, coming off the mountainside to join them. He saw nothing except the black silhouette of Ben Lomond, becoming ever distant as Irving and Graves beat their hasty retreat.

              Finally, James felt the buzz of an incoming message on the phone in his pocket. He almost dropped the handset in his eagerness to summon it up onto the screen. It was a text from Joanna, which simply read:

              We’re in trouble. J x.

              James tried calling her number and then Amit’s, but the calls cut out before they’d even had a chance to ring. He briefly considered what he should do next. Within an instant, James had dialled 999. This time, he got an immediate connection.

Philippa set about lighting the wood burning stove in the sitting room of their pretty little rented bothy. She had already put the kettle on and gone into the room she shared with Joanna Endicott to change out of her wet clothes. When she returned to the kitchen to make coffee, James was still pacing up and down the floor, his sodden socks creating a series of damp footprints on the flagstones.

              ‘I should have let you go down alone and carried on along the ridge to catch up with the others – maybe I could have persuaded Jo to return with us.’

              Philippa laid her hand on his arm. ‘Then you would be missing too,’ she said levelly, setting about preparing them both a hot drink.

              ‘I’m going to get changed and go back out there. The mountain rescue guys will need some help.’

              Philippa glanced out of the tiny kitchen window at the rain being blown against the thick glass. ‘They told you to wait until the weather clears, then they’ll be happy to have your assistance.’

              James stopped pacing and looked at her. Philippa was back to her sensible and practical self now that they were off the mountain. He knew she was right. If he went out into the hills now he would simply become a liability. James slid onto the sturdy wooden bench in defeat. Philippa placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of him, into which she had added a generous slug of single malt whisky.

              ‘Here, take a sip of this,’ she urged.

              James felt the heat warming his mouth and throat. ‘Thanks. I just feel bloody useless, you know?’

              Philippa nodded in agreement and then a thought struck her. ‘Shit. Do we need to call Amit’s wife and tell her what’s happened?’

              ‘I think we should wait until we know more. The Central Scotland Police said not to panic. Apparently, folk get lost all the time in the national park. The Lomond Mountain Rescue team respond to these call-outs a lot. If we ring Tanisha now it will only give her a sleepless night and she’s got the kids to look after.’

              ‘Okay, if you say so,’ Philippa replied, looking sceptical. ‘But I think if it was me I’d like to be informed. Perhaps we could wait a couple of hours and see what the situation is by then?’ James grunted his assent but Philippa could tell he hadn’t really been listening to what she said. ‘Go and get out of those wet things,’ she added, in her most commanding voice. ‘You won’t be much good to the search team if you make yourself ill.’

              James looked up, momentarily shocked by her assertiveness. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he answered. ‘I’m going to take a hot shower. I’ll leave my phone here on the table. If there’s news of any kind, then give me a shout, okay?’

              ‘Of course,’ she replied, helping him up from the seat and guiding him firmly in the direction of the stairs. ‘I’ll let you know straight away.’

They spent the rest of the evening working through the bottle of single malt, finally deciding to get some sleep in the wee small hours. As soon as sunlight streamed into James’ room the following morning, his eyes immediately flicked open. The cottage felt worrying still and quiet. Irving splashed water on his face, pulling on a sweatshirt and his spare pair of walking trousers. He glanced briefly in the bathroom mirror. He was unshaven and looked pretty tired, but his handsome features were otherwise unaffected by the trauma and exertion of the previous day.

              Philippa was placing a couple of slices of bread into the toaster when he came downstairs, her dark brown hair lying loose to her shoulders. She appeared fresh and rested.

              ‘So they aren’t back yet?’

              Philippa spun around. ‘No. I just called the Mountain Rescue Headquarters. The team gave up at eleven last night. We’re meeting them at the base of the Ptarmigan Ridge at 8.30 to resume the search. A group of local people will be joining us. Most of the volunteers are from Ardyle village. Do you feel up to it?’

              ‘Of course.’ James glanced out of the window, where the clouds had completely lifted and the sun was beating down. ‘Maybe they found somewhere to shelter,’ he muttered to himself.

              ‘I’m certain they must have done,’ Philippa replied in a light and jolly tone that James imagined she used regularly to pacify the children in her Reception class.

              He looked at his watch. ‘We’ll need a hearty breakfast, but as soon as we’ve finished eating I reckon it’ll be time to head off.’

There was a mild easterly wind, but the strength of the sun meant it was still warm. James was assigned to a group of three men. One was called Jeff and a member of the mountain rescue team. The other two were young lads from Ardyle, who James would say were no more than 18 years old. The boys seemed to know the territory very well, certainly better than he did.             

              They’d been allotted an area west of the ridge to search. Spreading out in a line across the hillside, the four of them scanned the landscape from left to right, calling out the names of the missing walkers in turn. Mountain Rescue could pick up no signal from their phones. GPS was useless as they had no position to fix onto.

              After half an hour, James was becoming hoarse. He gave his voice a rest whilst the search and rescue helicopter flew in low over their heads, temporarily flattening the bracken and grasses in a broad circle around them. He noticed something in the distance. It looked like polished metal glinting in the sun.

              Jeff had spotted it too and started to jog across the heath, with his walkie-talkie held up to his mouth. As they grew nearer, James could see it was Amit. He was staggering through the scrubland just a few metres up ahead. James broke into a sprint and caught his friend under the arms, helping to support his weight.

              ‘Where’s Jo?’ He demanded.

              Amit’s body was shuddering and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. James could see he was trying to shake his head. ‘I don’t know. We got separated last night. I haven’t seen either of them since.’

              Conversation was no longer possible as the helicopter landed several yards away from them. James stood well back as the rescue team surrounded his friend, wrapping him in heat conserving blankets and securing him onto a stretcher. Within a matter of seconds they were gone.

              Jeff stayed on the ground. As the two men stood and watched the chopper disappearing over the mountain, Jeff’s walkie-talkie crackled into life.

              ‘What’s up?’ He asked, nodding slowly as he registered the reply. ‘Okay. We’ll be there as soon as we can.’ He turned towards James. ‘They’ve located another member of your party - a woman this time.’

              James gasped with relief. ‘Oh, thank God.’

              But the other man’s expression remained fixed. ‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll take you to where she is.’