“What did you find, Tate?” I gesture to the bunched up fabric in his hand.
He frowns. “Was on the front stoop. Looks like a woman’s scarf?”
He holds it up to the light, and Cairstina’s hand flies to her mouth.
“What is it?” I ask her. She pulls out her mobile, and my phone buzzes with a text.
That’s my mum’s. Did she hear anything? Was she here?
“She says it’s her mum’s.” God, her fucking family. “Has she been by here, Father?”
His eyes grow worried, a crease forming across his brow. He looks as if he’s aged since last we saw him. “A few times, aye. I didn’t expect her tonight, but she shows up from time to time. Has since the other night.”
Another text comes in.
Do you think she heard him say my name?
I shake my head. “Not sure what she heard or what she can do about it if she did, but we’ll have to investigate. First, though, we find Paisley.”
Cairstina nods and reaches for my hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze. A quiet, silent reassurance that all will be well. I squeeze her back. When you’ve seen what I have and witnessed what I have, you’re not so sure things will be well, but I’m grateful for her.
“Father, you let us know if you hear anything at all from Cairstina’s family, the Aitkens, or Paisley, will you?”
“Aye, you have my word.”
“Let’s go.” I gesture for the others to follow me. I pause before we leave, turning back to MacGowen. “And if you need a detail here, you tell me?—”
He smiles and waves his hand at me. “I’m fine, Leith, but thanks very much.”
I nod, and we go to leave, Dougal’s keys weighing in my hand. I want to throw them through a bloody window. Came all this way and I didn’t get to break his fucking neck.
Before we leave, Cairstina jerks her hand out of mine and runs over to Father. We don’t have time for this.
“Let’s go, Cairstina.”
She gives him another brief hug, then returns to me. We leave the way we came.
I call Paisley, not surprised to find that she doesn’t answer.
“Any lead on where we can find her?” Mac asks, scowling in the back of our car. “And what do we do with his fucking keys?”
“I’ll tell you what we do with them.” I slow by the graveyard, roll down the window, then whip the keys as far as I can. I hear themclink against a gravestone and imagine them falling deep in the tall grass between the stones. “Let him fucking find them.”
Tate snorts, and Mac claps me on the back.
“Bloody hell, I’d have liked to thrash the prick,” he mutters.
“Same.” I nod. “But the time will come.” Cairstina reaches for my arm and holds me, tipping her head so it rests on my shoulder. I run my thumb along the top of her hand, hoping it gives her some measure of reassurance.
“Can one of you call Fran, see what she can tell us directly?”
“I will,” Mac and Tate say in unison. I look at them in the rearview mirror, surprised by the response. They’re glaring at each other, but Tate’s already got his phone out.
“How do you have her bloody number?” Mac mutters, scowling.
“I made Paisley give it to me when the two of them went to the concert in Glasgow.”
“Concert in Glasgow?” I ask from the front. “When the hell did she do that?”
