Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (27 page)

CHAPTER 28

The earth was tumbling in on her, suffocating, thick clods sticking in her throat, causing her to gag and choke. Her fingernails snapped as they clawed at the earth just inches from her face, fresh panic jolting her body at the sound of the spade hitting the ground above her, stabbing at it before throwing it in on her. All around her the whispers echoed until she felt herself changing, felt the fear dissipate and be replaced by a cold oppression. She went still and it became easier to breathe, despite the fact she was buried under the earth. The whispers were so close to her ear now it was as though the whisperer had lain down beside her. Bony fingers touched her hair, fetid breath wafted over her skin.

“Daughter,” said the voice.

Freya jumped awake with a gasp and she could have cried with relief when she realised it was just a dream. She was still at the hospital, maintaining her vigil by Craig’s bedside. Nora, completely exhausted, had been taken to her hotel by a policewoman but Freya had refused to go. Craig had woken again briefly, just before Nora had left. He was drowsy and not quite with it but his surgeon was pleased with his progress.

She watched him sleep, recalling how he’d looked in the church. She never thought she’d see the day she was afraid of her husband, but he hadn’t been her Craig. Something else had taken him over, something dark that dwelt inside that church.

Daughter.

The recollection of that hideous disembodied whisper made her shudder. She’d felt something come over her too when she was holding that gun, something that had drained every last drop of positive emotion out of her, leaving behind only the hatred, the rage, the desire to do harm. If Thorne hadn’t turned up when he did she would have killed Graeme. Her first shot had missed, even though she’d been aiming for his head at close range. She hadn’t expected the weapon to kick back so much, it had knocked her aim off and the bullet had gone into his shoulder instead, smashing through the bone. Her lips curled. At least he was going to be in a lot of pain, which was the least he deserved.

Freya shook away the pleasure this thought gave her. Remnants of that influence still clung to her and if she wasn’t careful it would take her over again. Even now she could feel it, like a shard of ice lying in her heart. She would have to watch Craig carefully, he’d been as influenced by it as she had. His face had changed, it had taken on a threatening aspect that wasn’t natural to him, the shadows conspiring to distort his features into something disturbing. Even his teeth had looked different, small and sharp, like the mouth of an animal. The memory of that face she dearly loved twisted into something so unnatural made her fear for the future. What if he had ice in his heart too? They had a young child. What if their experiences had changed them irrevocably? What if that malign influence took hold of them again and made them hurt their son? The thought made her want to cry.

Looking at Craig sleeping so peacefully made it difficult for her to believe that any of it had happened, that anything could be strong enough to make Craig act against his very nature. She resolved to speak to no one about it except him, it would be their secret. Graeme might say something but no one would believe him. One reason she was keeping this vigil was that she couldn’t wait for him to wake up properly so she could get it off her chest. If she knew Craig he’d be worried too, unless she’d imagined the whole episode, but that chill right in the centre of her that had never been there before convinced her she hadn’t.

Slumped in her wheelchair she drifted in and out of sleep, which was broken by random nightmares, phantoms that surrounded her, whispering dark words before pulling back and vanishing as she opened her eyes. Every hour the door would open and a nurse would walk in, throwing her an apologetic smile for waking her but Craig’s condition required careful monitoring and she was glad he was being so well looked after.

Finally she gave up on sleep altogether. She needed to see the outside world, to be reassured that it still turned, so she wheeled herself to the window and lifted the blind a tiny bit to peek outside. After that long, terror-filled night the bright, sunny day felt like a rebirth, as though the sun’s rays could cleanse her of the horror. But that ice remained firmly implanted in her soul. She shivered and let the blind drop.

The sound disturbed Craig who shifted, head slowly rolling from side to side as he drifted back to consciousness. Freya wheeled herself back to him and smiled as his hazy grey eyes blinked up at her.

“How are you doing?” she said softly.

“Been better,” he rasped, throat dry. “You?”

“I’m okay now you’re awake.”

He groped for her hand and clasped it tightly.

“How do you feel inside?” she said tentatively. When he just looked at her, puzzled, she did start to wonder if it had been her imagination. Then she recalled Graeme’s words and decided she had to do this. “You remember when we were in the church?”

He nodded, still looking confused.

“We attacked Graeme,” she said quickly, dropping her voice.

Of course he remembered, she could tell when his gaze clouded over.

“We were kicking him when he was down on the floor. That’s not us.”

Craig nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with worry.

“I feel different, in here,” she continued, touching her chest. When Craig nodded again, indicating he felt the same, it was almost a relief. She wasn’t alone, she wasn’t losing her mind. “You do too?”

“Yes,” he said before clearing his throat.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. It’s over.”

“No it’s not and you know it. I’m sorry,” she added. “I know you’re not well and you don’t need this right now but we have to do something about it, when you’re better.”

“I felt something in there,” he said, eyes widening, holding onto her hand tighter. “I think it was…”

“Don’t say it, please,” she said before he could elaborate. “I’m not ready to hear it yet.”

“Okay, later.” He winced and shifted on the bed.

“Is it hurting?”

“No, I just can’t get comfy. I hate hospitals.”

“You’ll be out before you know it.”

“We have to go back to Blair Dubh one last time, we have to…”

“Ssh, it’s okay. I know,” she said, heart sinking.

Craig soon dropped off again so Freya took the opportunity to wheel herself into Gary’s room. He too had made it through surgery and was, to her surprise, a lot more alert than Craig even though his injury was more serious. Steve was by his bedside, who had showered and changed before returning to the hospital, refusing the pleading of his fiancée to rest. He couldn’t until he knew his colleagues were going to be okay.

“Freya,” grinned Gary. His smile was broad but his voice was weak.

“It’s so good to see you awake,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“Wow, a kiss from Freya Donaldson. It was almost worth getting shot for.”

“I wouldn’t go trying it every day,” said Steve dryly.

“How’s the Sarge?” Gary asked her.

“Good. He’s woken up but he’s still really groggy. The bullet missed everything vital. How did your surgery go?”

“Great. I’ll be tap dancing again in a couple of days.”

“Since when have you tap danced?” said Steve.

“I might, I feel so good,” he smiled, shifting about on the bed and grimacing. “Ow.”

“Stay still you bloody fool,” chided Steve. “You’ve still got a bullet in you.”

“They left it in?” said Freya incredulously.

“It’s an inch and a half from my heart, they said it’s too risky to remove,” explained Gary. “So I’ll be setting off a lot of metal detectors at airports.”

Freya sensed his sunny front was masking a deeper pain. “What does that mean for your future? Can you carry on as normal?”

“I can’t exercise as much as I used to, especially the weightlifting and it looks like I’m finished in the police.”

“That’s not fair, you’re so good at it,” she said, feeling terrible for him.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” he said quietly. He forced the grin back on his face. “But the birds are going to be flocking round me after this and I’m going to have a cool scar to show off.”

“What will you do?”

“Don’t know. I always thought if I didn’t make it in the police I’d join the army, but they won’t take me now either.”

She grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry Gary.”

“At least I’m alive. I am not going to sit around and mope about it.”

“Good for you,” she smiled. “Think of it as a fresh start.”

His smile faltered. “I’m trying sweetheart.”

“You’re going to be kept busy when you get out of here arranging my stag do,” said Steve. “He’s going to be my best man,” he told Freya.

Gary looked visibly brighter. “Strippers, lots of them.”

“I don’t think Monica would like that,” said Steve.

“I’m not asking her to strip.”

Steve’s expression hardened. “You’d better not.”

“She won’t know. I’ll tell her we’re going to a poetry reading followed by an alcohol-free meal at a vegan café. How’s that?”

“She wouldn’t believe it for a second.”

“I’ll think of something, don’t worry. It’s going to be epic.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Do you know how Graeme is?” said Freya.

Gary frowned. “Why do you care about that shite bag?”

“Because I shot him. I’m curious to know if I killed him.”

“You shot him? Fucking hell sweetheart.”

“He made it through,” said Steve. “No permanent damage. Unfortunately.”

“I don’t know if I’m pleased or not,” said Freya thoughtfully.

“You should be,” said Gary passionately. “It means you’re not going to get into trouble because of that fucker.”

“Alright, take it easy,” said Steve when he started to get agitated.

“I bet it felt good when you pressed that trigger,” said Gary.

Freya thought of the dark oppression that had taken hold of her in the church. “Not really. I just wanted it over.”

“And you ended it. Now he’s going to rot in prison.”

“I was sorry to hear about Hughes,” she said. “I couldn’t stand him after the Mad Mandy incident but he didn’t deserve that.”

“All he wanted was to be a copper and it got him killed,” said Steve, “Let that be a lesson to you Gary. If you’re not capable of doing something then you don’t do it.”

“Yes Mr Monica,” he smiled.

“You’re a silly bastard,” he said, shaking his head.

Freya smiled at the genuine affection between the two men. “Maybe you could be a party organiser Gary? I’m sure you’d arrange some amazing stag nights.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” he said, looking happier already. “Beer and strippers all day long.”

When the nurses insisted it was time Freya was taken back to her own hospital room Gary was still talking excitedly about his future as a professional party planner.

CHAPTER 29

Freya was delighted when James and Veronica walked into her hospital room the following morning with Petie, Fraser holding his dad’s hand. She’d been discharged and they’d come to pick her up.

“Hello wee man,” she exclaimed, holding her arms out to him.

The boy laughed and clapped his hands in delight to see his mum and when he was passed to her he wrapped his little arms around her tightly and clung on for dear life. Freya got the feeling he sensed that she’d been through something dangerous in the strange way children often have and buried her face in his downy dark hair, showering him with kisses.

“He’s missed his maw,” said James, smiling at the two of them together.

“How’s he been?”

“A bit fretful,” said Veronica, “but on the whole okay. The question is, how are you?”

“You know me, I’m a survivor.”

“That’s not answering my question.”

“I’m better off than some,” she said, thinking of the list of the dead. Fifteen had been Graeme’s final tally in Blair Dubh, including the two police officers, the two teenagers and Betty, Adam’s grandmother. She’d died of a massive heart attack five hours after being brought to hospital.

“We’ve just popped in on Craig,” said James. “They weren’t going to let us see him at first because we’re not family but Veronica dazzled them with her credentials so they relented.”

“You mean I planted myself in the middle of the ward and refused to go until they’d let me through,” she smiled.

“As they don’t allow children onto intensive care wards I was left in the corridor with the boys, extremely embarrassed,” smiled James.

“How was he?” said Freya anxiously. “When I saw him he was really groggy, he wasn’t with it at all.”

“He was quite alert,” said Veronica. “He’d had chance to recover from the anaesthetic. The outlook’s positive, I promise no one’s keeping anything from you.”

“Thanks Vee,” said Freya, feeling better. She drifted off into silence, smiling down at Petie.

Both Veronica and James noted how closely she was studying her son, as though she was searching for something, and frowned at each other.

“Why don’t I take the boys for their snack while you get yourself sorted out?” offered Veronica.

“Not in your condition,” said James. “Why don’t you rest here and I’ll take them?”

“I’ve got a craving for croissants dripping with butter,” replied Veronica, giving him a meaningful look, eyes darting from him to Freya.

“Oh,” he said, finally cottoning on. “Okay. We’ll meet you in the canteen then.”

Veronica rolled her eyes at him before holding her hand out to Petie. “I promised you some juice and toast, didn’t I?”

Petie seemed reluctant to leave his mum until Fraser started clapping and cheering at the thought of toast, so he relented. Freya gave him a kiss as he slipped down off her knee. Her smile was sad as she watched him toddle up to Veronica and take her hand.

“I’ll see you soon baby,” she called to him.

He waved with his chubby hand before disappearing out the door with Veronica and Fraser. James closed the door behind them and turned to Freya. He didn’t need to say anything, she saw the question in his eyes.

“Apparently Logan’s my real father.” She thought it almost comical when his jaw fell open.

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately yes. The whole village knows, they’ve always known but they kept it from me.”

“Even Nora?”

She nodded.

“Craig?”

She shook her head. “I thought it might mean I lost him but he says he doesn’t care.”

“Course he doesn’t.” He sat on the bed beside her and released a heavy sigh. “Is it really true?”

“I’ve not had a DNA test done, but I think so.”

“Maybe you should? The village could be wrong.”

“I don’t think so. It sort of makes sense. Deep down I think I’ve always known. I saw how much Mum loved Logan, although I’ve never managed to figure out why, he was a horrible man.”

“She obviously saw something in him.”

“I just wish I could work out what. She wanted me to know the truth one day, she said so just after I was born when she was really ill, she had a fever.”

“Sounds like puerperal fever.”

“Could that have caused her to have hallucinations?”

“You mean make up something that wasn’t happening?”

“Yes.”

“There is a condition called postpartum psychosis that can cause the mother to experience delusions and hallucinations.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Logan came into her sickroom and kissed her on the lips.”

“No it wouldn’t and priests aren’t supposed to do things like that.”

“Anyway, it explains why he killed her. It was never enough for me that he buried her alive because she was pregnant. She must have threatened to tell everyone who my real father was. John Macalister had been dead a long time, it wasn’t like the truth could have hurt him.” Freya smiled gently, her gaze faraway. “Mum was so flighty, half the time she had her head in the clouds, she was a born dreamer. She probably imagined her and Logan living happily ever after with me and her unborn child. Years of him stringing her along probably made her snap and she gave him an ultimatum - tell everyone the truth or I’ll tell them for you. So he killed her and their baby. Going off what Graeme said, I think he loved her in his own weird way but he didn’t love her more than his standing in the community and his good name. He had too much power over the villagers, he could heap abuse on them, call them sinners and fornicators and make out like he was trying to save their souls. He wouldn’t want to give that up for anyone, not even the woman he loved and his own children.”

“This must be very disturbing for you.”

“It was a hell of a shock,” she said wryly.

“But I would recommend a DNA test, just to be sure.”

“He’d have to be exhumed to get a sample and I really don’t want to do that.” She thought of that single whispered word
daughter
she’d heard in her nightmare and shuddered. “I really don’t need it, I know it’s the truth.” She paused before adding, “something happened in the church with Graeme.” She hesitated before continuing. James was a scientific man and a firm believer in what he could see and touch. He treated anything remotely spiritual as nonsense but she had to confide in him, it was driving her mad, even if she couldn’t share the whole story of what had happened in the nave. “I heard these weird whispers,” she went on. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard them in that village. It felt like Logan was there but this time he wasn’t just taunting me, it was more like he wanted…my soul.”

The look James gave her wasn’t at all scathing or mocking, but it was sympathetic. “You’ve been through a huge ordeal, you must have been terrified stuck in that creepy church in a storm with a mass murderer. Fear causes the mind to play tricks on us. I’m not talking about the fear we feel when we’re alone in the dark or watching a scary film but pure terror that fortunately most of us never have to experience.”

“I never heard them when Martin Lynch attacked me in Nora’s house or when Docherty tried to strangle me on the beach. It’s only when I’m in that church that I hear them, or the graveyard, because they’re Logan’s domain.”

“I’m sorry Freya, if you want me to validate your experience I can’t, you know I don’t believe in ghosts. I know you think the whispers were genuine but I believe their cause was psychological, not spiritual.”

Freya decided to leave it at that, she wasn’t going to waste her energy trying to convince him. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve not been any help.”

“You have. Just talking about it makes me feel better.”

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I’m so relieved you’re safe and well. I love you Freya.”

“Love you too,” she smiled up at him. There was nothing remotely romantic about their words but they both meant it.

“Let’s go and find Veronica and the boys. Petie will be bursting to see you.”

The wheelchair had been substituted by crutches for her release and he walked slowly and patiently beside her as she tried to get used to them, muttering under her breath.

“Language please,” smiled James, amused. “We are in a public place.”

“Sorry but these things are really annoying me.”

“I am not walking all the way to the canteen with you using shocking language like that, you’ll get us thrown out.”

He scooped her up in his arms, making her laugh.

“You’re going red in the face,” she said.

“You’re heavier than you look. Dear God woman, what have they been feeding you in here? I don’t think I’ll make it all the way to the canteen.”

“Just do your best,” she smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. In the end it didn’t matter if Logan was her father. He was dead and gone and she had wonderful people like James and Vee around to help her through. Logan had already lost.