Sacrifice

Dana clenched her fist and made a little stabbing action with it. 'So why wasn't she reported missing? Why wasn't she on your list of summer 2005 deliveries? She wasn't, was she?'

'No, she wasn't…'

'Then how…'

'Because she was already dead.'

She stared at me. Three tiny furrows appeared between her eyebrows. 'Come again,' she said.

'I checked her hospital records. She was admitted on 29 September 2004, with a malignant breast tumour that was subsequently found to have spread to her lungs, back and kidneys. Her GP had spotted a lump just a couple of weeks earlier during a routine examination. She was transferred to Aberdeen for treatment but it didn't work. She died on the sixth of October, just three and a half weeks after being diagnosed.'

'Fuck!' I hadn't heard Dana swear before.

'You can say that again,' I said.

She did. And quite a lot more. She got up and walked across the room, stopping only when the wall made further progress impossible. She turned and walked back, again just stopping at the wall. Another turn and a few more steps. Then she stopped and looked at me.

'How sure are you about those dental records?'

At four in the morning I'd been pretty certain. Now…

'You need to have a proper dentist look at them but… I'm… I'm sure. They were the same.'

'Could she have been a different woman? Different woman, same name. Two Melissa Gairs living in Lerwick.'

I'd thought of that. I shook my head. 'Their birth dates were identical. So were their blood groups. It's the same woman.'

'Shit!' And she was off again, pacing the room and swearing. In a way, it was kind of nice to see the impeccable Dana losing control. In another, I wanted her to stop. She was making my head hurt more.

'It's déjà vu. It's déjà-fucking-vu. We went through this with Kirsten, convinced we'd found the right woman.'

'We have to forget about Kirsten. The dental records were totally different. It wasn't her.'

'I accept that. But it's still too much of a bloody coincidence. We find a body and a ring in your field. Both belong to young women who supposedly died in 2004. Except one of them didn't. One of them actually died – because our pathologists tell us so – almost a whole year later.'

'My head hurts!' I wailed.

'OK, OK.' She stopped pacing and came back to sit on her footstool. She lowered her voice. 'Now tell me what happened to you.'

I shook my head. 'It doesn't matter.'

She took hold of my hands, one of them still clutching an empty tea mug, and forced me to look at her.

'It matters. Now talk.'

I talked. I told her that, for the second time in two nights, someone had bypassed locked doors, not to mention considerable hospital security, to force their way into my presence. That for the second time, someone had watched me while I slept, that I had, once again, been completely at the mercy of someone who wished me harm.

'Nothing was left. No…'

'Little gifts? No. But he washed out my coffee mug and pot. Very thoroughly.'

'You think you were drugged?'

'It's possible. I haven't been feeling great the last few days, like I'm coming down with flu or something, but not this bad.'

'We need to get you to a doctor.' She saw the look on my face and allowed herself to smile. 'We need to do some tests,' she said. 'I don't know, blood tests or something.'

'Already done. I took some bloods before I left the hospital. They're in my office fridge; I'll send them off on Monday. But until we know for certain, can we just keep quiet about this, please? It's only going to be a distraction.'

Dana nodded slowly but her eyes were dull and unfocused. I recognized the sign that she was thinking hard. I wondered how to breach the subject of my going home. I hated to leave her with such a bombshell but knew I couldn't carry on any longer. I stood up.

'Dana, I'm sorry, but I really need to get home.'

She looked up sharply. 'Will Duncan be there?'

'No,' I said, surprised. 'He's not back till this evening.' Which was probably just as well. I didn't want him to see me in this state.

'You can't go.'

'Umm?'

'You're safer here. Go upstairs. Have a shower if you like and then use the spare bedroom. When we know he's back I'll sign your release papers.'

I didn't move. I hardly knew this girl. I was far from sure I trusted her and I was letting her take control of me. She must have seen something in my face because her own expression sharpened. 'What?' she said.

I sat back down. I told her everything Gifford had said about her. She listened, her eyebrows flickered once or twice, but otherwise there was no reaction. When I finished, her mouth tightened. She was visibly angry but I didn't think it was with me.

'My father died three years ago,' she said. 'I lost my mother when I was fifteen and have no siblings so I inherited the whole of his estate. He wasn't a rich man but he'd done OK. I got about four hundred thousand pounds. I bought the car, the house and the things you can see around you. It's nice to have some money but I'd much rather have my dad.'

She took a deep breath.

'I did not leave Manchester in disgrace. I left with an excellent record and first-rate references. I transferred to Dundee because I wanted to work in Scotland. I left Dundee because I began a relationship with another officer – a much more senior one – and we agreed it wasn't good for the force.'

She stood up, still annoyed, and crossed the room to her stereo system. She ran a finger along the glass case then inspected her fingertip for dust. I doubted she'd see any. Then she looked back at me.

'As for not fitting in here, well, they got that bit right. These islands are run by a small and very powerful clique of big, blond men who all went to the same schools, the same Scottish universities, and whose families have known each other since the Norwegian invasions. Just think about it, Tora, think about the doctors you know at the hospital, the head-teachers at the schools, the police force, the magistrate, the chamber of commerce, the local councils.'

I didn't need to think about it. I'd noticed more than once how many of the islanders fitted into the same distinctive physical type.

'Oh, the place is crawling with Vikings. One of its few redeeming features, I've always thought.'

'Try and name me more than half a dozen prominent islanders who are not local men,' said Dana, ignoring my feeble attempts at humour. 'They all know each other, they all socialize, they do business together, offer each other jobs and the best contracts. These islands are running the biggest jobs-for-the-blond-boys club I have ever come across and when, once in a blue moon, an outsider does manage to break in, he or she gets obstructed, delayed and frustrated every step of the way. Most outsiders, sooner or later, get driven out. It's happening to me and I suspect it's happening to you too. Sorry to go on a bit, but I happen to get pretty pissed off about it.'

'Clearly,' I said.

'I am not in debt, nor am I anorexic. I eat quite a lot but I work out most evenings. And yes, I shop a lot too. It's called displacement activity. I don't particularly like it here and I miss Helen.'

'Helen?' I said stupidly.

'DCI Helen Rowley. The officer in Dundee with whom I was – am still when we get the chance – having a relationship. Helen is my girlfriend.'

And no, I admit, I had definitely not seen that one coming.

'Now, you can stay down here and help me do some pretty arduous police work, you can go home and risk someone disturbing your rest for a third time in three days, or you can go upstairs and get some sleep.'

Not really too difficult a decision. I turned to leave the room.

When I awoke, it was to the sound of voices. Two voices, to be precise: Dana's and that of a man. I sat up. Dana's spare bedroom was small but as beautifully decorated and tidy as the rest of her home. A blind was drawn but behind it I thought I could see bright sunshine. There was no clock in the room. I walked to the window and raised the blind. Lerwick Harbour and the Bressay Sound. It was about midday, I guessed, which meant I'd slept for five hours.