The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) by Heather Atkinson Page A

making up mad maladies and prescribing even madder cures, the sort that only children can dream up. He shifted in his seat, watching her from the corner of his eye as he wondered if she still had it. Playing doctors and nurses now would be so much more interesting. He shook away the unwanted dangerous thoughts and cleared his throat.
    “ Am I making you nervous?” she said.
    “ No, why?”
    “ You were looking at me funny.”
    “ Sorry, didn’t mean to.”
    “ I know the way I look can make some people uneasy.”
    “ I think it suits you. Scary but cool.”
    “ Thanks,” she smiled.
    “ I wish I’d been there when you walked into the pub, I bet their expressions were priceless.”
    “ I thought they were going to fetch their pitchforks and torches. They might have done if Catriona hadn’t recognised me.” Her smile dropped. “Get the bastard who killed her Craig, she didn’t deserve that.”
    “ I will. Problem is, I’ve no bloody idea where to start. Logan’s dead.”
    “ So someone’s continuing his work.”
    “ But who? His only living relative is his mum.”
    “ That insane old bitch is still going? She sat up there in the Parish House like the Queen of Sheba. She really thought she was something special because her darling son was the village priest. She was always having a go at my mum for being a single parent, even though she was a widow.” Freya scowled at the memory of the small grey haired woman with the indomitable will and the big hairy mole on her chin.
    “ There was a bit of a Norman Bates thing going on between her and Logan. I always thought if she died first he’d have her stuffed and put in pride of place in her chair by the fire.”
    “ No wonder he turned out to be such a zealot, growing up with her.”
    Their eyes locked as they both came to the same conclusion.
    “I think I should have a word with Mother Logan,” he said, getting to his feet.
    “ Is she still in the Parish House?”
    “ Oh yes. Social Services have tried to get her out many times but they’ve always failed.”
    “ How old is she? She must have been in her seventies when I was here.”
    “ She just looked older than she was. She’s in her early eighties now. Still as strong as an ox and as pleasant to be around as a scorpion.” He gazed out of the window, the view obscured by the rain pouring down the glass and he was reluctant to leave the warm house and congenial company to visit a creepy old woman in an even creepier house in a storm. “I think I’ll drive.”
    “ Be careful. It can get really muddy up there.”
    “ I’d better check on her anyway. A home help goes up twice a week but they won’t be able to get anywhere near at the moment. You’ll stay inside, won’t you? Stay safe.”
    “ I’m hardly going out for a stroll, am I?” she said, but it was good-natured. “I’ll help Nora with the housework as a thanks for letting me stay.”
    “ I’d say enjoy but I’m not sure you will. She’s a domestic tyrant.”
    At that moment Steve returned to the house and pulled off his jacket. “I’m bursting for a pee. You won’t believe how much tea I’ve drunk this morning.”
    “ Make it quick then you’re coming with me,” said Craig.
    “ Where to?”
    “ I’ll explain on the way.”
    After Steve had relieved himself, he and Craig exited the house and hurried through the rain to Craig ’s car. Freya watched from the window, shivering slightly. When she’d been alone with Craig she’d felt completely safe but in the rain, his features obscured, he could so easily be PC Docherty.
    An arm around her shoulders made her jump.
    “You alright Hen?” said Nora.
    “ Fine.”
    “ This business is making us all edgy. I only hope it’s not like the last time, with all the paranoia.”
    “ What do you mean?”
    “ I suppose you were too young to understand. Think about it, a small village, people who’ve known each other their entire lives trapped together with a murderer on the