Then the fire seemed to grow dark, and the night spun me off into darkness.
CHAPTER 9
THERE WAS NO wind. That was the first thought that came to me. No wind, no drumming of rain.
Just silence.
I opened my eyes. I was in a bed. Muted daylight filtered through pale curtains, revealing a large, white room. White walls, white ceiling, white sheets. My first thought was that it was a hospital, but then I realized most hospitals didn’t run to duvets and double beds. Or en suite glass shower rooms, come to that. And the raffia bedside table looked as if it had come straight from the pages of an interiors magazine.
But just then the fact that I didn’t know where I was didn’t bother me. The bed was warm and soft. I lay there for a while, my mind running over the last events I could remember. They came back to me surprisingly easily. The cottage. Abandoning the car. Falling in the dark, then heading for the distant fire.
That was where it grew hazy. The memories of stumbling up the mountainside and finding myself at the ancient burial cairns, and of the figure that had emerged from the ruined hut, had the surreal quality of a dream. I had disjointed images of being carried along in pitch blackness, crying out as my shoulder was jolted.
My shoulder…
I drew back the duvet, registering that I was naked but more concerned with the sling that strapped my left arm to my chest. A professional job, by the look of it. I cautiously flexed the shoulder and winced as bruised ligaments protested. It hurt like hell, but I could tell it was no longer dislocated. Someone must have put it back, although I’d no memory of it. Which was odd, because having a dislocated shoulder shot back into joint isn’t the sort of experience you’re likely to forget.
I looked at my wrist and saw that my watch was missing. I’d no idea what time it was, but it was daylight outside. I felt a growing sense of alarm. Christ, how long had I been out? I’d still not told Wallace-or anyone-that we were dealing with a murder. And I’d promised Jenny I’d call her the night before. She’d be going frantic wondering what had happened to me.
I had to get back. I threw aside the duvet and was looking round for my clothes when the door opened and Grace Strachan came in.
She was even more striking than I remembered, dark hair tied back to reveal the perfect oval of her face, fitted black trousers and cream sweater revealing a figure that was slim but sensuous. When she saw me she smiled.
‘Hello, Dr Hunter. I was just coming to check if you were awake.’
At least now I knew where I was. It was only when her eyes flicked down that I remembered that I was naked. I hurriedly covered myself with the duvet.
The dark eyes were amused. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Confused. How did I get here?’
‘Michael brought you back last night. He found you on the mountain. Or, rather, you found him.’
So it had been Strachan who’d rescued me. I remembered the figure emerging into the firelight. ‘That was your husband I saw out there?’
She gave a smile. ‘One of his little hobbies, I’m afraid. I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks it’s odd. Still, good job for you he was.’
I couldn’t argue with that, but I was still worrying about how long I’d been asleep. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nearly half past three.’
The day was more than half gone. I cursed, silently. ‘Can I use your phone? I need to let people know what’s happened.’
‘Already done. Michael called the hotel after he brought you back and spoke to Sergeant Fraser, I think it was. He told him you’d had an accident but that you were more or less in one piece.’
That was something, I supposed. But I still needed to get hold of Wallace. And Jenny, to let her know I was all right.
If she was still speaking to me.
‘I’d still like to use the phone, if that’s OK.’
‘Of course. I’ll let Michael know you’re awake. He can bring it up with him.’ Grace arched an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. ‘I’ll tell him to bring your clothes, as well.’
With that she went out. I lay in bed impatiently, chafed by the thought of the lost hours. But I didn’t have to wait long before there was a rap on the door.
Michael Strachan came in, carrying my neatly washed and pressed clothes. My wallet, watch and useless mobile were stacked neatly on top of them. He also had a newspaper tucked under one arm, but he kept hold of that.
‘Grace said you might be needing these,’ he said, grinning as he set my things on a chair by the bed. He reached into his pocket and took out a cordless phone. ‘And this, too.’
I wanted to make the calls straight away, but restrained myself. If not for this man I’d probably be dead. ‘Thanks. And thank you for what you did last night.’
‘Forget it. I was glad to help. Although I must admit you scared me half to death when you suddenly appeared like that.’
‘It was mutual,’ I said, dryly. ‘How did you get me back?’
He shrugged. ‘I managed to prop you upright most of the way down, but for the last leg I’m afraid it was a fireman’s lift.’
‘You carried me?’
‘Only as far as the car. I don’t always take it, but I was glad I had, believe me.’ He said it dismissively, as if carrying a grown man even a short distance was nothing. ‘So how’s the shoulder now?’
I flexed it warily. It was still painful, but at least I could move it without passing out. ‘Better than it was.’
‘Bruce had the devil of a job popping it back. If not for him, we’d probably have had you airlifted to a hospital. Or stuck you on Iain Kinross’s ferry, and I don’t think you’d have enjoyed a sea voyage in the state you were in.’
‘Bruce…?’
‘Bruce Cameron. He’s the schoolteacher, but he’s also a trained nurse. Looks after the medical clinic.’
‘Sounds like a useful combination.’
A look I couldn’t quite read crossed his face. ‘He has his moments. You’ll meet him in a while yourself. Grace called him to say you were awake, so he offered to come out to see how you were. Oh, and your colleagues found Ellen’s car this morning and got it back on the road. It isn’t damaged, you’ll be glad to hear. What happened? Swerve to miss a sheep?’
‘Not a sheep, no. A golden retriever.’
Strachan’s face fell. ‘Oscar? Oh, Christ, you’re joking! I’d taken him out with me, but he’d wandered off. God, I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I didn’t hit him.’ Curiosity temporarily got the better of my impatience. ‘Look, don’t think I’m not grateful, but…what the hell were you doing up there?’
He smiled, a little shamefaced. ‘I camp there every now and then. Grace thinks I’m mad, but when I was a kid back in South Africa my father used to take me out on safari. You get the same sense of space and isolation on the mountain that I remember from that. I’m not religious or anything, but there’s something…almost spiritual about it.’
This was a side of Strachan I wouldn’t have suspected. ‘Pretty lonely, though. And cold.’
He grinned. ‘I wrap up, and the solitude’s all part of it. Besides, the broch’s a good place to think.’
‘Broch?’
‘The stone hut I was in. It’s an old watchtower. I love the idea that someone would have been sitting up there by a fire two thousand years ago. I like to think I’m keeping the tradition. And those cairns are even older. The people buried in them would have been lords or clan leaders, and now all that’s left is a few piles of stone. Puts things in perspective, don’t you think?’
Abruptly, he grew embarrassed.
‘Anyhow, so much for my dark secrets. Here, I brought you this.’
He handed me the newspaper he’d brought with him. It was the previous evening’s Lewis Gazette, folded open on the second page. A headline over Maggie Cassidy’s byline announced Fire Death Mystery on Runa. The story gave a lurid account of the discovery of the burned body, light on facts but heavy on speculation. Predictably, she’d made reference to spontaneous human combustion, and I was referred to as ‘esteemed forensic scientist Dr David Hunter.’