‘Maybe not, but they’re still going to funnel the signal, and the set’s range is only thirty miles. You want to waste your time pissing in the wind, that’s up to you, but you can do it by yourselves.’ He indicated the handset. ‘Press the switch to talk, let go to receive. And switch it off when you’ve finished.’
With that he walked out. As the door banged shut behind him. Fraser turned on Brody, angrily.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve no authority to tell them anything!’
‘We don’t have any choice. We need these people’s help. You’re not going to get it by yelling.’
Fraser’s face was crimson. ‘One of those bastards killed Duncan!’
‘Aye, and antagonising everyone’s not going to find out who did it.’ Brody stopped, restraining himself. He took a deep breath. ‘Kinross is right. There’s no point wasting any more time here when Strachan’s yacht has a satellite comms system. We can call into the school on the way and see if Grace is there.’
‘And if she’s not?’ Fraser demanded, truculently.
‘Then we’ll wait at the house until one of them gets home,’ Brody grated, clearly not happy himself at having to ask anything of Strachan. ‘Unless you’ve any better ideas?’
Fraser hadn’t. We drove up through the village from the harbour, but when we reached the school Grace’s black Porsche wasn’t outside. The small building was unlit and empty.
‘They must have sent the kids home early because of the power cut. We probably missed her when we detoured to see Kinross,’ Brody said, his frustration evident.
There was nothing to do but head for Strachan’s house and hope she was there. Fraser drove in moody silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He wasn’t an easy man to like, but Duncan’s death had hit him hard. And he’d been out of his depth even before his colleague was murdered.
We were approaching the big house when the sergeant suddenly tensed.
‘What the hell’s he doing?’
Strachan’s Saab was tearing down the road directly towards us. Fraser swore and swerved into the side, stamping on the brake as the Saab skidded to a halt just a few feet away.
‘Bloody idiot!’ Fraser cursed.
Strachan had jumped out and was running towards us, not even bothering to close his car door. Fraser angrily wound down the window and yelled at him.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’
Strachan didn’t seem to hear. His face was shockingly pale, his eyes wide and scared as he bent to the open window.
‘Grace is missing!’ he gasped.
‘What do you mean, missing?’ Fraser demanded.
‘I mean she’s missing! She’s gone!’
Brody had climbed out of the Range Rover. ‘Slow down and tell us what’s happened.’
‘I’ve told you! Christ, are you all bloody deaf? We have to find her!’
‘We will, but you’re going to have to calm down and tell us what you know.’
Strachan made an effort to compose himself. ‘I got back a few minutes ago. Grace’s car was here, and there were lights on and music playing, so I thought she was in the house. She’d left a cup of coffee going cold in the kitchen, but when I called she didn’t answer. I looked in every room, but there’s no sign of her!’
‘Couldn’t she have gone for a walk?’ Fraser asked.
‘Grace? In this weather? Look, why are we just standing here, we’ve got to do something!’
Brody turned to Fraser, automatically assuming command. ‘We need to organize a search. Go back to the village and bring as many people back as you can.’
‘What about you?’ Fraser asked, not liking being told what to do.
‘I’m going to go up to the house and take a look.’
‘I’ve told you, she isn’t there!’ Strachan almost yelled.
‘We’ll take another look anyway. Dr Hunter, do you want to come with me?’
I’d been about to suggest it anyway. If Grace was hurt I’d be more use here than rounding up a search party in the village. We hurried over to the Saab as Fraser drove off in the Range Rover.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Brody, in a low voice.
He just shook his head, his expression grim.
Strachan had left the Saab’s engine running. He barely waited for us to get in before he set off, reversing back up the road and up the driveway before screeching to a halt next to Grace’s black Porsche SUV. Without waiting to see if we followed, he ran into the house shouting his wife’s name. The only response was frenzied barking from the dog in the kitchen.
‘See, she’s not here!’ he said, pushing his hand through his hair distractedly. ‘And Oscar was running around outside when I got back. If Grace had gone anywhere she wouldn’t have just left him outside like that!’
There was a knot of tension in my gut as I heard the catch in his voice. I knew what he was going through. I’d once gone to Jenny’s house and found the same terrible absence myself. There had been a killer loose then as well, and being here now, seeing the fear in Strachan’s eyes, gave me a terrible sense of deja vu.
But Brody remained calm as we carried out a quick search of the house. There was no sign of Grace.
‘We’re just wasting time!’ Strachan said as we finished, his panic nearing the surface.
‘Did you look in the outbuildings?’ Brody asked.
‘Yes! There’s only the barn, and she’s not in there!’
‘What about the cove?’
Strachan just stared at him. ‘I…No, but Grace never goes down there, not without me.’
‘Let’s take a look anyway, shall we?’
Strachan led us into the kitchen. A half-drunk cup of coffee stood on the table, a book opened but face down next to it, as though Grace had merely stepped out for a moment. Impatiently pushing the retriever aside, Strachan went out through the back door and rushed for the steps leading down to the cove.
I’d been half afraid we’d see Grace’s broken body lying on the shingle below us. But except for the yacht moored at the short jetty, the cove was empty. It was a beautiful boat, its hull squeaking against the rubber fenders as the sea threw it about, tall mast swinging back and forth like the arm of a broken metronome.
Strachan hurried along the jetty towards it. He bounded up the gangplank and ran to the cockpit. I was slower to board, struggling for balance with one arm strapped up. As I stepped on to the deck Strachan threw back the cockpit hatch and suddenly froze.
When I reached him I saw why.
Like the rest of the yacht, the cockpit was beautifully equipped: teak panels, stainless steel fittings, and an elaborate instrument console. Or what was left of it. The radio and satcom had been smashed to pieces, the deck below them littered with torn wires and broken circuitry.
Strachan stared at it for a moment, then rushed through the cockpit to the main cabin.
‘Grace? Oh, God, Grace!’
She lay on the cabin’s floor. Her head and shoulders were covered with a sack, but below that Grace’s white parka was clearly visible. She lay curled on her side, arms pulled behind her and tied behind her back.
From the waist down she was naked.
Or almost. Her feet hadn’t been bound, but her jeans had been left pulled down around her ankles, tethering them as securely as a rope. Her pants were around her knees, as though her attacker had been interrupted in the act of removing them.
She looked obscenely vulnerable lying there, her long legs bare and blue-white with the cold. She wasn’t moving. I thought we were too late, but then Strachan touched her and she suddenly began to thrash around.
‘Hold her, don’t let her hurt herself!’ I warned, trying to catch her feet.
‘It’s all right, Grace, it’s me! It’s me!’ Strachan said, yanking the sacking from her head.
Underneath it her hair was a tangled mess, obscuring her face. A piece of dirty cloth had been crammed into her mouth. Above it her eyes were wide and terrified, but then they fixed on Strachan and she immediately stopped struggling.
‘It’s all right, I’m here, it’s all right!’ he chanted, easing the gag from her mouth. She sucked in a breath, sobbing.