suitable.’
‘Aye, that’ll be great.’ Hamish smiled. ‘Though she’s probably got mair on her mind, what wi’ her condition an’ a’.’
‘Right enough,’ replied Daley vaguely, employing the same tactic he did with Liz when he hadn’t heard or understood something properly.
He got into the car, secured his belt and started the engine. When he looked across the road to wave, Hamish was gone, with sign of him in the rear-view mirror. How does he do that? Daley wondered, not for the first time.
He pulled away from the kerb and headed home, though something new, something he couldn’t quite define or grasp, was nagging at his subconscious. He dismissed the fleeting thought, consigning it to the drawer that contained the rest of his worries, and drove on.
Daley parked his car in the driveway and looked across the darkening sea towards the mound at the head of the loch. The ancient causeway that afforded access to the island at low tide snaked across the surface of the water like a sea monster. A nearly full moon shone down on the perfect scene. Nothing moved: no cars on the distant road, birds in flight, vessels at sea. For a brief moment, it was like being alone with the ocean and the heavens, at one with the fabric of time and existence, where dark thoughts are wont to roam.
And roam they did. Daley, staring into the black sky, somehow knew that a human monster resurrected to prey on his worst fears was taking in the same celestial view. It was as if suddenly, and for only an instant, they were two sides of an old, well-handled coin – part of a currency that stretched back and forth across the past, present and future. He and JayMac were merely recent manifestations of the eternal struggle between good and evil.
As quickly as the feeling came, it vanished. He had learned during his time as a detective to trust the subliminal mind: instinct coalesced with procedure, determination and hard work to bring evil to book. As inexplicable as such intuition was, it was to be ignored at one’s peril.
He was jolted from this unexpected philosophical reverie by the clunk and squeak of the treble-glazed front door being opened. Liz stood on the decking, a few strands of hair loose across her face, and smiled down at him.
‘What are you thinking about, Jim?’ she asked, brushing the wayward hair from her eyes.
‘Och, nothing, Liz. Just daydreaming, I suppose. What’s for dinner? Not bloody pasta again?’ He clambered up the steps onto the decking and hugged his wife, drawing the scent of her deeply into his senses. She was warm and soft; he slid his hand up under her loose top onto the smooth skin on the small of her back, making her draw her breath at the touch of his cold hand. Gently, he kissed her.
‘Dinner can wait, darling,’ she whispered, nibbling at his neck. ‘Time for you to work off some more calories.’ She took him by the hand into the warmth of their home on the hill. The bright moon spilled its light onto the water and the good people of Kinloch – and beyond.
13
The moon was reflected on the sea far below as he opened the back of the Transit van that had been left for him at the cottage. It was one of four vehicles he’d had the use of. On the surface these were all taxed and insured, completely above board, apart from the fact that their registered keepers were either dead, or in some other way indisposed. On a piece of waste ground in the East End of Glasgow, the burnt-out wreck of an old Honda Civic was being pored over by police forensic teams.
He preferred to travel at night, which was handy, since at this time of the year night seemed all encompassing in Scotland. He’d always liked the dark, even as a child. While his friends shied away from the blackness at the end of the day, the lowering gloom that enveloped the tenements and high-rise flats where they lived, he revelled in its silky anonymity. Even though Glasgow was a city, there were still nooks and crannies
‘Aye, that’ll be great.’ Hamish smiled. ‘Though she’s probably got mair on her mind, what wi’ her condition an’ a’.’
‘Right enough,’ replied Daley vaguely, employing the same tactic he did with Liz when he hadn’t heard or understood something properly.
He got into the car, secured his belt and started the engine. When he looked across the road to wave, Hamish was gone, with sign of him in the rear-view mirror. How does he do that? Daley wondered, not for the first time.
He pulled away from the kerb and headed home, though something new, something he couldn’t quite define or grasp, was nagging at his subconscious. He dismissed the fleeting thought, consigning it to the drawer that contained the rest of his worries, and drove on.
Daley parked his car in the driveway and looked across the darkening sea towards the mound at the head of the loch. The ancient causeway that afforded access to the island at low tide snaked across the surface of the water like a sea monster. A nearly full moon shone down on the perfect scene. Nothing moved: no cars on the distant road, birds in flight, vessels at sea. For a brief moment, it was like being alone with the ocean and the heavens, at one with the fabric of time and existence, where dark thoughts are wont to roam.
And roam they did. Daley, staring into the black sky, somehow knew that a human monster resurrected to prey on his worst fears was taking in the same celestial view. It was as if suddenly, and for only an instant, they were two sides of an old, well-handled coin – part of a currency that stretched back and forth across the past, present and future. He and JayMac were merely recent manifestations of the eternal struggle between good and evil.
As quickly as the feeling came, it vanished. He had learned during his time as a detective to trust the subliminal mind: instinct coalesced with procedure, determination and hard work to bring evil to book. As inexplicable as such intuition was, it was to be ignored at one’s peril.
He was jolted from this unexpected philosophical reverie by the clunk and squeak of the treble-glazed front door being opened. Liz stood on the decking, a few strands of hair loose across her face, and smiled down at him.
‘What are you thinking about, Jim?’ she asked, brushing the wayward hair from her eyes.
‘Och, nothing, Liz. Just daydreaming, I suppose. What’s for dinner? Not bloody pasta again?’ He clambered up the steps onto the decking and hugged his wife, drawing the scent of her deeply into his senses. She was warm and soft; he slid his hand up under her loose top onto the smooth skin on the small of her back, making her draw her breath at the touch of his cold hand. Gently, he kissed her.
‘Dinner can wait, darling,’ she whispered, nibbling at his neck. ‘Time for you to work off some more calories.’ She took him by the hand into the warmth of their home on the hill. The bright moon spilled its light onto the water and the good people of Kinloch – and beyond.
13
The moon was reflected on the sea far below as he opened the back of the Transit van that had been left for him at the cottage. It was one of four vehicles he’d had the use of. On the surface these were all taxed and insured, completely above board, apart from the fact that their registered keepers were either dead, or in some other way indisposed. On a piece of waste ground in the East End of Glasgow, the burnt-out wreck of an old Honda Civic was being pored over by police forensic teams.
He preferred to travel at night, which was handy, since at this time of the year night seemed all encompassing in Scotland. He’d always liked the dark, even as a child. While his friends shied away from the blackness at the end of the day, the lowering gloom that enveloped the tenements and high-rise flats where they lived, he revelled in its silky anonymity. Even though Glasgow was a city, there were still nooks and crannies
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