‘Michael, oh, thank God, Michael!’
Her face was flushed and puffy, the skin imprinted with the rough hessian pattern of the sack. Her right cheek was discoloured by a livid bruise, and her mouth was swollen and bloody. But other than that there were no obvious injuries I could see.
‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’ Strachan was asking her, his voice cracked.
‘No, I…I don’t think so.’
‘Did he sexually assault you?’ Brody asked bluntly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Strachan exploded. Even I was shocked at the question.
But Grace was shaking her head. ‘No…no, he didn’t…I wasn’t raped.’
Thank God, I thought. At least she’d been spared that. And it was probably better to deal with the issue now and get it out of the way. Perhaps Brody wasn’t being insensitive after all.
Tears were running down Strachan’s face as he tenderly brushed the hair from his wife’s face. ‘Who did it? Did you see him?’
‘I don’t know, I…I…’
He hugged her. ‘Shh, it’s all right, it’s over now. It’s over.’
Brody and I gave them as much privacy as we could while Strachan drew up Grace’s underwear and jeans. I tried to unfasten the rope binding her wrists, but it had been tied too tightly for me to manage with one hand. The skin was chafed and abraded, her hands white from restricted circulation. Brody had to search for a knife to cut it, then we stood back as Strachan helped Grace to her feet.
‘Help me carry her,’ Strachan said to Brody, their feud temporarily forgotten.
‘I can walk,’ Grace said.
‘I don’t think-’
‘I’m all right, I can walk!’
She was still crying, but there was none of the hysteria I’d feared. Brody and I stayed a discreet distance behind them as Strachan supported her along the jetty. Grace huddled against him, the two of them so oblivious to anyone else that I felt like an intruder.
As we climbed the steps out of the cove, the seagulls’ lonely cries sounded like mocking laughter on the wind.
CHAPTER 19
I CLEANED AND dressed Grace’s wounds while Fraser took her statement. He’d arrived with a convoy of cars from the village shortly after we’d taken Grace back to the house. Strachan had objected to his wife being questioned so soon, but I’d suggested that it was best to get it over with. She would have to tell her story again when the mainland police arrived, but meanwhile it was better for her to describe what had happened while the memory was still fresh. Not only could early debriefing help avoid psychological trauma in assault victims, at least this way I’d be able to make sure Fraser didn’t push her too hard.
Somehow I didn’t think he’d be the most sensitive of interviewers.
Strachan had sent everyone who’d come to help search for Grace back home again, after he’d distractedly thanked and reassured them that she wasn’t badly hurt. Shock and anger was visible on all their faces. Even though news of Duncan’s death hadn’t yet spread, by now everyone had heard that the body found at the cottage had been murdered. But shocking as that might be, what had happened to Grace was even more so. The murder victim was unknown to them, whereas Grace was the wife of Runa’s benefactor, respected and well liked. An attack on her struck right at the heart of the community.
Kinross and Guthrie had been amongst those who’d come out to help with the search. As he’d prepared to leave, the look on the ferry captain’s face promised slaughter.
‘Whoever did this, he’s a dead man when we find him,’ he’d vowed to Strachan.
I didn’t think it was an empty threat. Emotions were running high all round. Given his infatuation with Grace, it was no surprise that Cameron had also rushed out to help with the search. He’d been the last to leave, stridently insisting that he had to see her. His protests had carried from the hallway into the kitchen where Brody and Fraser waited as I cleaned Grace’s wounds.
‘If she’s been injured I need to examine her,’ Cameron boomed, indignantly.
Strachan’s voice remained unmoved. ‘There’s no need. David’s doing that.’
‘Hunter?’ Cameron fairly spat the word. ‘With all due respect, Michael, if anyone’s going to treat Grace it should be me, not some…some ex-GP!’
‘Thanks, but I’ll decide who’s going to look after my wife.’
‘But Michael-’
‘I said no!’ There was a shocked pause. When Strachan spoke again it was with more restraint. ‘Go home, Bruce. If I need you, I’ll let you know.’
‘I seem to be causing trouble,’ Grace said, ruefully, as we heard the front door close. She had been stoically enduring my one-handed attempts to dab antiseptic on her injuries.
‘I expect he just wants to help,’ I said, putting down the wad of cotton wool. ‘Excuse me.’
Leaving her with Brody and Fraser, I went out of the kitchen to intercept Strachan as he came back across the large hall.
‘I heard what Cameron said,’ I told him. ‘He’s got a point. He’ll have more experience at treating wounds than I do.’
The events of the last hour had taken their toll on Strachan. He looked better than he had, but the chiselled features were drawn, and some of the vitality had drained from him.
‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of putting a dressing on,’ he said tiredly.
‘Yes, but he’s the nurse…’
His face hardened. ‘For the time being.’
I didn’t say anything. Strachan glanced at the kitchen doorway and lowered his voice. ‘You must have seen how he looks at Grace. I’ve put up with it in the past, because I thought he was harmless. But after this…’
I’d wondered how Strachan felt about Cameron’s feelings for his wife. Now I knew.
‘You don’t think it was him who attacked her?’ I said, doubtfully.
‘Somebody did!’ he flashed. But the vehemence soon passed. ‘No, I’m not saying it was Bruce. I just…well, I’d rather he didn’t go near her right now.’
He gave an embarrassed smile.
‘Come on, let’s get back. They’ll think we’re plotting something.’
We joined the others in the kitchen. Fraser was waiting with his notepad, while Brody sat staring into his cooling mug of tea with a faint frown. The old DI had been unusually quiet since we’d come back to the house, apparently content to let Fraser ask most of the questions.
Strachan sat beside Grace, holding her hand as I finished treating her wounds. None were serious, mainly cuts and abrasions. The worst was the darkening bruise on her face where she’d been hit. It was on her right cheek, which meant whoever had struck her was probably left-handed.
The same as Duncan’s killer.
I began to dab the broken skin with antiseptic as she told Fraser what she could remember.
‘I’d not been back from school long. I’d just made myself a coffee.’ Her hand trembled as she held a glass of brandy and water I’d given her in lieu of any other sedative. There was a faint quaver in her voice, but otherwise she seemed to be coping well with her ordeal.
‘When was this?’ Fraser asked, writing ponderously in his notebook.
‘I don’t know…about two, two thirty, I think. Bruce decided to close the school early because of the power cut. We’d got heating but no lights.’ She broke off to speak to her husband. ‘Michael, we really need to see about getting a back-up generator for the school as well, you know.’
‘I know, we will.’
Strachan smiled, but he still looked awful. He seemed to blame himself for what had happened, for not being there when she’d needed him.
Grace took a sip of brandy and gave a shudder. ‘Oscar was barking at the kitchen door. He wouldn’t shut up, and as soon as I opened it he shot off for the cove. I didn’t want him going on the jetty in this weather, so I went after him. When I got down there he was barking like a mad thing at the yacht, and I saw the cockpit hatch was open. Even then, I didn’t think anything about it. It’s never locked, and I thought Michael must have forgotten to close it. I started to go into the cockpit, but there was no light on and I couldn’t see. Then…then something hit me.’