Shot Through The Heart (Supernature Book 1) (21 page)

"But you invited him, right?" asked Mark.

Kay nodded. "I know Adam," she said. "It'll be good, right? You'll get your photographs for your book."

Mark shook his head again. "I'm not sure it was worth it," he said.

Harris appeared with a pot of coffee and cups. Mark could tell he was disappointed he couldn't overhear anything juicy. He used the interlude as an opportunity to regulate his breathing.

"Why did you think I'd gone to Wick?" asked Kay, once Harris had left them.

"I found a bit of paper in your room," said Mark.

Kay suddenly looked angry, her face twisting. "You had no right to go in there," she said.

"I had every right," said Mark. "You were my employee and I was told that you had disappeared."

"Who told you?" asked Kay. She pointed over in Harris's general direction - he reddened and looked away. "Him?"

"Lady Elizabeth Ruthven, if you must know," said Mark. "She phoned me when you didn't turn up for an interview."

Kay put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no," she said. "I totally forgot."

"You just
forgot
?" asked Mark.

"Must have done," said Kay.

Mark gave a deep sigh. "Kay," he said, his voice hard, "if you're working for me, then it's my reputation that you're ruining, not just your own. I need you to act professionally."

"Yes, boss," said Kay.

Mark thought she looked amused by his rant. He banged the table. He caught Harris looking over again. "This isn't funny," he said. "I had no idea where you'd gone."

"If you must know," said Kay, "I was going to head to Wick next week. I've got a feature commissioned for the
Scotsman
."

"I'm very pleased for you," said Mark, looking away. He hated it when his friends became successful - having an employee get somewhere would be unbearable.

"Thank you," said Kay. "I'm not just a researcher, you know."

"Why weren't you answering your phone?" asked Mark.

Kay poured coffee into her cup and turned it very light brown with milk. "I lost the charger," she said. "Felt like I'd lost a limb but I managed to get a new one in Inverness."

"And you didn't think to call me?" asked Mark.

"You're not due your next set of files until you actually pay me," said Kay.

"I have paid you," said Mark. "If you checked your bank account, you'd know that."

"You need to stop giving her a hard time."

Mark almost jumped out of his skin. He twisted around in the chair and saw Adam with a grin on his face. Mark's anxiety spiked, fearing that Adam had overheard his complaint.

"Kay's turned up, Mark," said Adam, sitting down, pouring coffee into a cup. "She's fine. You need to stop being so jumpy and paranoid."

"I wonder why I am," muttered Mark. He cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Right, I need to get back to Edinburgh."

"I came back for the ceilidh," said Kay. "Don't you want to dance with me?"

Mark sighed. "No," he said. "I need to get back to Sarah and Beth. I've been away too long and I haven't written nearly enough."

"See, there's another thing," said Kay. "I've got a load of good interview notes from Skye that you should be interested in. Some stuff that backs up your theories."

Mark drummed his fingers on the desk, unsure what to do. "I'll read them on the train," he said.

"I should go through them with you," said Kay.

Mark stopped to think. He didn't know what to do. "How do your notes back up my theories?" he asked, his eyes shut.

"Ah," said Kay, with a coy smile on her face. "You'll just have to wait."

Mark snorted then shook his head. He made the decision quickly. "Fine," he said. "I'll stay for one more night."

Kay clapped her hands together. "You're not getting off that dance floor tonight," she said.

"What about me?" asked Adam.

"You've got a quarter of ABBA to keep you occupied," said Mark. "And I don't think it's the bloke with the beard, either."

He got up and went back to his room, knowing Sarah was going to kill him.

"Look, I just don't think there's any way out of it," said Mark.

There was a wall of silence down the line.

"I see," said Sarah, eventually.

"It's just one more day," said Mark. "The reason I came up here was to look for Kay."

"And now she's turned up," said Sarah, voice frosty, "you can come back here, right?"

"It's not that simple," said Mark. "I need to go through her notes with her. We'll have lots of conflict now because we've been doing the same research. I'm under so much pressure here. You know that, right?"

Sarah gave a deep sigh but said nothing.

"I'll get the first train," said Mark. "I'll be home by about five o'clock tomorrow. I swear."

"You'd better promise," said Sarah.

"I do," said Mark. "I love you."

"Bye."

Mark ended the call and chucked the phone on the table.

What was he doing? Did he really need to waste time with Kay?
 

It turned out Kay was tired. She'd gone back to bed, agreeing to meet Mark at the back of four to go through her notes.

He was quite looking forward to the ceilidh that evening, but decided alcohol was off the menu. He'd do some dancing, speak to some locals and then head to bed early. He hoped the ceilidh would give him some colour for the book - it was an annual tradition and he could use it to liven up one of the chapters he had been struggling with.

He stopped after a couple of hours of decent progress to take a break. Drinking the coffee, he looked out of the window at the lawn. His mind started to drift and wander.

Why had he based himself in Ruthven? If it hadn't been the last place Kay had been seen, he'd never have come here. There was nothing remarkable about it, even to the Highland Clearances. The stuff he had found out about the devil worshippers and the burnt down church had been pure serendipity.

Kay, on the other hand, had travelled far and wide - across to Skye, up to Thurso and down to Inverness. He'd tentatively followed her footsteps and had got drunk in Inverness.

And then there was Lady Ruthven.

His stomach lurched - was he developing an obsession with her? Would she dance with him at the ceilidh? He dragged himself back to reality. There were a few reasons he wanted to get back to Edinburgh, and she was at least three of them.

His mobile phone buzzed and danced on the table. It was Adam, the wind buffeting the microphone - Mark could barely hear him.

"I was taking some photos out past Ruthven Castle," said Adam. "I saw a police car over there and it's cordoned off, so I went over to rubberneck, you know how it is."

"Spit it out," said Mark.

"What was that?" asked Adam. "I can't really hear you, buddy."

"Just get on with it," said Mark.

"There was a dead body," said Adam. "It's that John Rennie boy."

A million thoughts whirred through Mark's head as he waited in the sunshine for Adam to pick him up. The last time he'd seen John, he'd been strong, decisive and alive. One thought dug into his mind.

It could have been him.

John had saved him from the dogs and had been killed. Scratch that, Mark told himself - think like a historian.

Primary evidence.

Secondary evidence.

John had
died
. There was a huge difference between
died
and
been murdered
, but Mark couldn't decide which way round it was. He could have tripped and smashed his head against a rock or fallen in the loch and drowned.

Or he could have been murdered.

Adam finally turned up and Mark got in the car without a word. As they drove, Mark realised the only information he had was John's heart had stopped beating and somebody had found his body somewhere.

"You're very quiet," said Adam.

"This is getting very messed up," said Mark, after a pause to compose himself. "First, Kay turns up after a week missing, then John's body. After he saved me from those dogs."

"You still on about that?" asked Adam.

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Mark, close to finally losing his rag. "The last time I saw him, I was cornered by big wild dogs. The next thing, he comes out of nowhere and saves me. The dogs left me and went after him."

"Are these your werewolves?" asked Adam.

Mark shook his head. "I've no idea what's what," he said.

"You think it's connected?" asked Adam, the corner of his mouth turned up into a sly little smile.

"I think it could be," said Mark, deciding that it probably wasn't a great idea to mention his visit to ZZ Top's centre.

They slowed to a halt a few hundred metres short of Ruthven Castle. There were four police cars dotted around - probably the entire police force for the Highlands north of Inverness. A cordon was marked out in the field to the right, figures in white body suits carrying clipboards and bags of equipment and a large tent in the middle of the field.

Mark recognised a few faces from the village arriving to look over, the blacksmith and his dominoes partner among them. A uniformed police officer held everyone back.

"Amazing how many people turn up, eh?" asked Adam.

Mark nodded. "It's probably the only thing that's happened here since the Clearances," he said.

The blacksmith wandered over, nodding recognition at Mark. "Horrible business, son," he said. "John was a good lad. Used to play dominoes with us twice a week. Can't believe he's been killed."

"It's definitely him?" asked Mark.

"Aye," said the blacksmith. "I've no idea who's going to officially identify the body, mind. He lived on his own, no wife or kids." He gave a wry chuckle. "Certainly none that I'm aware of. Horrible business, son, horrible business. And on the day of the ceilidh, too."

"Think they'll cancel it?" asked Adam.

The blacksmith grimaced. "A third world war wouldn't stop that," he said.

"Any idea what happened?" asked Mark.

The blacksmith snorted. "They reckon it's the wild dogs that have been everywhere," he said. "Hunners of them now. Good old John used to catch them and take them down to Inversneckie every so often."

"How could some dogs kill a man?" asked Adam.

"Happens all the time," said the blacksmith.

"It's usually a Doberman killing a small child," said Adam. "This isn't the same thing. This is a grown man, experienced with handling dogs."

The blacksmith shrugged. "They reintroduced wolves up here," he said. "Could be them breeding with wild dogs, you know?"

"That makes more sense to me than just a few
dogs
," said Adam.

"Whichever way you look at it," said the blacksmith, with an arched eyebrow, "the tourist board will have a job on their hands keeping this out of the papers. First suspicious death in these parts since the seventies, I think."

And with that, he wandered off towards his friend, stopping occasionally to stand on his tiptoes and peer over the barrier.

"What do you reckon?" asked Adam.

"I can buy either one," said Mark.

Adam shook his head. "Weird business," he said. "You still planning on going to the ceilidh?"

"If it's still on," said Mark, with a nod. "Nothing else to do. I doubt I'll be able to concentrate with the racket."

"Bagsy first dance with young Kay," said Adam, a leering grin filling his face.

"What about your ABBA girls?" asked Mark.

"Second and third dances," said Adam. "If they play their cards right."

"You know, I was probably the last person to see John alive," said Mark.

Adam nodded. "You're probably right, there," he said before laughing. "If that nonsense with the dogs is actually true."

Mark walked over to the policeman manning the barricades - a seasoned uniformed officer in his forties. He looked harassed, talking to some locals. Mark bided his time and eventually the couple left, shaking their heads at the injustice of it all.

Mark thought that the officer tutted as he approached. "How can I help you, sir?" he asked, arms folded and voice weary.

"Just wondering if I can see John's body," said Mark.

"John?" asked the policeman, playing it cool.

"It's John Rennie, isn't it?" asked Mark.

"No comment," said the officer. "All I'm allowed to say is that the body is a 53-year-old male from Ruthven."

Mark was used to enforced vagueness from people in authority. "I think that I might have been the last person to see this 53-year-old male from Ruthven alive," he said.

"You taking the mick?" asked the policeman, his accent reverting to the long drawn out syllables of the Highlander accent.

"I'm serious," said Mark, holding his gaze. "There were some wild dogs chasing me last night and John rescued me. I think that they might have got him, though."

The policeman laughed as he took out his notepad, flipping it open and retrieving a chewed biro from a jacket pocket. "I'm not sure how likely, true or possible that is," he said, "but I'll take a note of your name, address and phone number, if it's all the same."

Mark gave his details, getting the usual arched eyebrow when he gave his surname.

"Right, pal," said the policeman. "There's a DI coming up from Inverness this evening. I'll pass your details on."

"I might be a key witness," said Mark.

"And I might have won the lottery," said the policeman, "but I've not had five minutes to myself since Saturday to check my numbers."

Mark shrugged. "Was the body drained of blood?" he asked.

"Clear off," said the copper.

Mark walked off towards the waiting Adam, who was grinning. "You've pretty much solved the case for him," he said.

Mark shuffled past him, words having failed him yet again. Aside from being told to clear off by a policeman, dealing with Adam's nonsense was above and beyond the call of duty.

Adam jogged to keep up. "Reckon they'll cancel the ceilidh?" he asked.

Mark shook his head. "We'll see," he said.

"So, what next?" asked Adam.

Mark stopped and gave a deep sigh. "I'm going back to my room," he said. "Try to get some sleep before this ceilidh. I've a feeling I just might get out of my head tonight."