Chapter Forty-Six,
Jimmy Perez pulled away from Fran Hunter's house and turned down 'the bank towards Hillhead. He stopped outside the old man's place and wiped the condensation from the windscreen. At the bottom of the hill there were still lights on in the schoolhouse and at Euan's, but no sign of the activity going on inside. Roy Taylor understood the need for discretion. The cars had been parked out of sight from the road.
It was tempting to drive down and join them. There would be something reassuring in the detail of a search.
It would help him forget the panic. He could concentrate on sifting through objects and belongings, proving a theory which had already convinced him.
But it wouldn't bring Cassie back. He was certain she. wasn't in Ravenswick.
Perez forced himself to breathe slowly, to think rationally about what he should do next. His thoughts chased one after the other and he struggled to bring an order to them. They were strange thoughts which had little to do with the matter in hand, distractions.
The ravens. Every time he'd been here in daylight they'd been flying over these fields. Where would they go in the dark? Looking out over the frozen headland, he found it hard to imagine them sheltering on ledges of the cliff, but where else was there for them to go? Did they roost close together to keep out the cold? He didn't know how they could survive a winter like this.
Magnus's raven was already dead. Perez had taken it to the woman who cared for injured birds and animals and she'd fed it as Magnus had instructed, but something about the change of home had disturbed it. It had died the first night for no apparent reason. Sometimes it happened like that, the woman said.
Then he thought about Duncan. Who had once been a friend and had become an enemy. How would Perez talk to him if his daughter was dead? And that brought him to the murderer. He knew what he should do. He started the engine and backed into the gateway opposite Magnus's house to turn round. He drove north again.
In Lerwick he made a phone call to Taylor.
'Anything?'
'You were right. We found them. Well hidden though. Easy to miss!
But you didn't miss them, Perez thought. He could hear the triumph in Taylor's voice, subdued because he'd feel guilty for feeling that way, but there just the same. Magnus Tait hadn't killed Catherine. An Englishman had proved them all wrong. An Englishman and a Fair Islander.
'Go out to Quendale. Talk to the boy there.
There was something I missed! He shouldn't be the one to be giving orders, but he didn't care.
Perez hung up and contacted the rest of the team who were already searching the halls.
By this time the dances were breaking up, people were drifting home. Those with more stamina had moved on to private parties.
'Any sign of him?'
'No one's seen him for a while.'
'You've checked the house?'
'All quiet. The door was open and we had a look round. No one's there.'
He drove slowly around the streets, stopping occasionally to talk to groups of revellers on their way home. No one had seen Robert. Not for hours. On the phone again, he said, 'Talk to taxis. And rouse the folks working on the Whalsay ferry. He could have gone to the boat.' He thought that would be an efficient way to dispose of a small child. Tip her overboard. This temperature she'd only survive for seconds, even if she could swim.
For some reason the image of the raven flashed into his head for a moment. It wouldn't take any depth, he thought. Depending on the state of the tide, there was a chance her body would never be found, even if she was thrown over where the boat was moored.
Perez was thinking of friends who had boats and lived close to Vidlin. Someone he could persuade to take him across to Whalsay. Then he had another idea. Celia was at the Haa, had been at least when he'd tried there earlier. It was worth looking there first. For the second time that night, Perez drove north, across the bare wastes of heather moorland.
At the Brae junction he saw skid marks on the road and he changed gear to go down the bank to the house.
There were two figures on the beach, silhouetted in the embers of the fire, but he couldn't make out who they were.
He hadn't known what to expect in the house. He couldn't tell how Duncan would react to his daughter's disappearance. He wouldn't have been surprised by a riotous party in full swing, Duncan the exhibitionist pissed, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. But it was very quiet there. Even when he switched off his engine, he couldn't hear music. The faint breeze that had come with the change of the tide had dropped again. The smoke rose in a straight line from the tall chimney. He could see it in the moonlight and he could smell the wood in it.
He opened the door without knocking. In the kitchen someone he didn't know was asleep in the Orkney chair. It was a young woman, with her legs curled under her. 'Two men sat at the table eating toast. They were dressed in suits and ties, could have been having a breakfast meeting in the city. They looked up when they heard him, took him for one of Duncan's friends.
'Hi: one said, not surprised that a guest should be turning up at two in the morning. 'He's upstairs. Not really in a party mood.' He had an English accent and Perez put them down as business acquaintances.
He didn't answer and went on to the drawing room. The young couple he'd found in bed were there, on one of the sofas, arms entwined, not asleep quite, but in a glazed, self-absorbed stupor. Celia was sitting on the floor, staring at the fire, prodding it with a wrought-iron poker, making the sparks fly. He thought she'd been crying.
'Is Robert here?'.
She looked up at him. 'He was,' she said. 'I don't know now. Is his van still here?' She didn't ask why he wanted to know or if there was news of Cassie. He felt the urge to scream very loudly. Anything to rouse them. What right did they all have to laze about half conscious while the girl was missing?
He said nothing and walked quickly outside. He should have thought of the van when he'd first arrived. He saw it immediately. Before approaching it, he moved his own car so the van was blocked in. He didn't want the embarrassment of Robert driving away.
He tried the driver's door. It was locked. He peered through the window, shone his torch inside. There was salt on the glass and the light was reflected so it was hard to make out anything inside. He stooped so he was closer.
There was a pink glove on the passenger's seat, but it was too big to be Cassie's. He couldn't see to the back. The business end was separated from the seats by a sheet-metal casing. He tried the handle on the back doors. The handle moved, released a rod and bolt and when he pulled the door opened.
There was a soft bundle lying inside. He wouldn't let himself think what it might be. He shone his torch and caught a pair of eyes, wide and panicky. They blinked, hurt by the light. Alive. Cassie couldn't move. Her hands had been tied by twine, expertly knotted. A gag made of a strip of oily rag was in her mouth. Perez took his penknife from his pocket. He cut the ropes and pulled the gag from her mouth, then he carried her out and held her in his arms as if she was a baby. She began to shiver. He ran with her into the house, shouting for Duncan as soon as he was inside. The man loped down the stairs towards them.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sally found herself on the beach. She couldn't remember getting there. It was cold, but now the cold seemed a long way away. Robert had taken off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. The fire was still giving off some heat. She thought suddenly that she'd had enough and it would be quite good to be at home. Her parents would be asleep and she could let herself in very quietly, make herself tea. She was tired and she could lie in the single bed she'd slept in since she'd grown out of her cot. The duvet would be warm and she'd sleep. More than anything now, she wanted to sleep. But sleep, it seemed, was impossible. Robert wanted to talk.