Page 6 of The High Island

The nausea abating, she opened her eyes and looked out of the window, to see a police launch heading back the way she had just come.

She’d never seen a police boat before, but registered that when you were policing a group of islands like Orkney and had to get somewhere quickly, it was an obvious choice. The guidebook had said that Hoy, with its small population, was crime free, with no official police presence.

So what might have caused such a visit?

She was pondering this when her mobile rang. Seeing Kris’s name on the screen, she hesitated, keen to get the tone of her voice right before answering.

‘Rachael, I’m at Houton now,’ he said.

‘And I’m on the approaching ferry,’ she replied in what she thought was a welcoming tone.

‘I’ll wait for you on the pier,’ he said briefly, before ringing off.

Replaying his voice in her head, she decided he hadn’t sounded cheerful, but then again, he’d been at his great-grandfather’s funeral.

A funeral he wouldn’t permit her to attend.

She’d been a little hurt by his determined stance on that, until he’d told her that his family were hellish and would likely be unkind to her.

‘Was your great-grandfather hellish too?’ she’d asked.

‘No. That’s why I came back,’ had been his reply.

When she spotted his figure waiting for her, Rachael felt her heart leap in her chest.

He looks too young to be a father, she thought.Much too young.

4

With the end of May fast approaching, it had stayed light just long enough for Professor Nelson to extract the fragile coffin with its contents and transfer it to the police launch. After which Erling and Jo had secured the tarpaulin over the site to protect it in advance of the arrival of aSOCOteam tomorrow morning.

Sitting now in the vehicle waiting for the ferry to pick them up, Erling retried the number given him by Ian MacDougal, regarding the new owner of the Mowat croft.

On the two previous occasions, he’d been forwarded to voicemail and had left a message explaining who he was and asking for a return call. Which hadn’t happened, much to his annoyance.

However, this time, someone did pick up.

Trying to keep the irritation from his voice, Erling introduced himself yet again and asked to speak to Mr Maitland.

The male voice that responded politely explained that Mr Maitland was en route to Orkney with his wife, and was due to arrive in Kirkwall tomorrow morning.

Something Erling already knew, courtesy of Ian, the digger driver.

‘Nonetheless, I’d like to speak to himthis evening,’ Erling stressed. ‘May I have his personal number?’

Silence fell at the other end, before the voice said, ‘I will pass your number on to Mr Maitland and ask him to call you.’

‘You will immediately text me Mr Maitland’s personal number,’ Erling told him, ‘or you will be charged with wasting Police Scotland’s time.’

The silence that followed lasted a mere couple of seconds before the number pinged in.

‘Hallelujah!’ Jo exclaimed in a voice that sounded like an Alabama preacher.

When Erling threw her a look, she said, ‘I told you my father was a minister.’

‘In Caithness,’ he responded.

Jo laughed. ‘We’re good with the hallelujahs there too,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you finally got the number. And the ferry’s here.’