Page 41 of Bonetide

The chip in my hand goes cold.

“Did anyone? Come for her, that is?”

“Not while I was serving.”

That sits in me. I drink some of the pint to push it down.

“Did the man at the castle ever come in here and talk to Effie?”

He shakes his head. “Never saw them together. Man from the castle was always alone. He preferred it. So did Effie, mind you.”

Hmmm.

The door opens behind me. MacLeod glances up and his shoulders go back.

“Inspector.”

Oh god, please don’t let it be MacRae again.

The man who’s come in takes the stool four down from mine. He doesn’t look at me, but at least he’s not MacRae. The bartender pulls him something dark without being asked. Inspector, apparently, says, “Fine afternoon.”

“Same to you, Sinclair.”

“Quiet today.”

“Tuesday. Always quiet.”

A pause. The man clears his throat. “I’ve news, if you want it.”

“I never want it.”

“Aye. Well then.”

I stare down at the chips and hope he keeps talking because last time I was here I got a boatload of information and I don’t want to pass that up again. Even though that information did me more harm than good.

Sinclair lowers his voice. “Body washed up at Gairloch last night. Tide brought her in.”

My eyes widen. That’s not too far from here. Just a couple of lochs over.

“Christ.”

“Aye.”

“Same?”

“Same. We’ve a witness this time. Hill-walker through the trees up the slope. Couldn’t see clear, the light was failing, but he saw enough.”

“What did he see?”

“A woman on the shore. Screaming. And then she wasn’t on the shore anymore. He says it was a man. Dark hair. Tall. He says she was being dragged into the water.”

The fork in my hand goes very still on the plate.

“He couldn’t see her face,” Sinclair goes on, low. “He couldn’t see the man’s face either. By the time he got down to the water, the shore was empty. Blood on the rocks. A shoe.”

“Fourth this summer.”

“Fourth.”