The Night Hunter by Caro Ramsay

with Gilly instead of Sophie.
    ‘You found anything?’
    I jump. They’re both standing in the doorway and I think they might have been there for some time. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. I’ve looked at the pictures, read the articles, but I don’t see any link between them, except running. They were not the same kind of people.’ I stop and check my radar that Christine is not offended.
    Her pursed lips suggest that she might be. ‘Gilly was married young to her childhood sweetheart. She loved her children and her family life. She liked working with the kids at school.’
    ‘Whereas Sophie liked to live the life of a student. Gillian ran with the Milngavie Mummies? Did they have a trainer or a coach or something?’
    Christine shook her head. ‘Nothing so formal, they went out jogging on a Tuesday and Thursday night and there was a babysitter provided so they could all go out together. Afterwards they went for coffee. That’s all.’
    ‘But she must have been on her own the night she went missing.’ I look at Billy for confirmation.
    ‘Yes. She was late home from school that night, the weather was terrible. Rather than not go she went out on her own.’
    ‘Did she run the same route?’
    ‘I think so.’ Christine shudders. ‘She was down by the Baldernock Linn. That was where she was last seen. Graham said it was their favourite summer run.’
    ‘Was she having an affair?’
    Christine pursed her lips. ‘No. Why, was your sister?’
    ‘Probably,’ I replied. ‘She normally was.’ I look at a little map, photocopied and folded many times. ‘So she was along this route somewhere. The person who abducted her knew where she would be.’
    ‘Or came across her?’ asks Christine.
    Billy shook his head. ‘He couldn’t get that lucky twice. He knows where these women will be and when.’
    ‘Do you know any really big dogs – or anyone with a really big dog?’
    Christine shakes her head.
    ‘OK, Christine,’ Billy says. ‘We have another idea that might help.’ As if on cue his phone goes; he smiles and accepts the call. ‘Do you think that might be a flyer?’ Absent-mindedly he rubs his nose, just where the skin is cross-marked with fine red veins from his drinking days. Then he listens. ‘Well, you can take credit for it. It’s your jurisdiction, your idea.’ He progresses to scratching and turns to look at me. The scared old man has gone, the fox is back. ‘Yeah, she’ll do it. She can go out hunting in the night. It’s something that she does. Yeah, she’ll be glad to … no, I don’t need to ask her. The body nearly fell on her, remember? And her sister is missing. She already is involved.’

TUESDAY, 5 JUNE
    I t’s a simple plan. Find out where Lorna came from. We know where she ended up, so all I have to do is retrace her steps. I look out into the darkness. Same place, same time of night, same type of woman. It’s the best that they can think of as the dogs can’t find a scent with all this rain. Billy says that we don’t know what it will achieve until we try. I console myself with the fact that even if Lorna was chased by the Earl of Hell her feet still hit the ground and somewhere up there was a footprint that might take us to a track, to a road, to a tyre print. To a CCTV camera. A number plate. An ID.
    I couldn’t say no.
    So now I am running over the moor. Two crime lab technicians are standing in the glare of a very powerful arc light, huddled against the rain and poring over a plastic map. They have already calculated the radius that Lorna could have covered in her state of dehydration and weakness. One of them has factored in that I am fitter, well nourished and not injured.
    ‘But I am not scared,’ I said and jogged away to warm up. Lorna would have a runner’s eye for the contour of the land, she would know roughly where she was trying to get to – the Rest. There was no sign of her being chased, and only her footsteps were at the top of the landslide, nobody