Page 70 of The High Island

‘He suspects the racers fired the digger. Thinks they’d been using the old Mowat croft as a place to get high. Or, he said, one of them is a Mowat chiel whose family didn’t want the land sold and an eco-house built there.’

‘What did Mr Maine think about the eco-house?’ Jo said.

‘Didn’t want it, but said it wouldn’t happen anyway now that Ivor’s dead and Hugh Mowat’s in charge.’ He halted there for a moment. ‘He was upset about the lass and her bairn that the digger unearthed there. Wanted to know if we’d worked out who she was yet.’

‘What did you say?’

‘That the recent death of the guy on the beach took priority, together with the whereabouts of Kris Mowat. He looked a bit surprised by that. Said he’d assumed that the body was Kris.’

‘But we don’t know that,’ Jo stressed.

‘I told him,’ Ivan assured her. ‘Said it was down toDNAresults.’

‘Did you hear anything about the Mowats during your interviews?’ Jo asked cautiously.

‘It was all auld folk this morning. Keen to get a dig in at one or other of the Mowat clan. Old and more recent scores being settled, I suspect. Folk can carry grudges here a long time,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘And they know their history.’ He glanced at her.‘We can compare grudges later,’ he added with a grin. ‘Now for the source of the fire, and the path to Lyrawa Bay.’

Jo decided Ivan’s final remark meant what she’d been told by the last interviewee might be best kept until later. After all, coming from Caithness, she knew how folk would happily tell stories even if they had no proof they were true. Gossip wasn’t worth repeating if it wasn’t salacious.

Although, in her own case, the story had been true.

The faint scent of peat reached them before they met the blackened hillside. Willie had warned them they were still dealing with pockets of smouldering peat beneath the surface, which they were dousing with water from the burn that led down to the bay.

As Ivan parked up, Jo registered that the last time she’d stepped out of the car here, she’d needed a mask. This time the air was clear, the sky bright, which only served to emphasize the terrible destruction that surrounded them.

Ivan led the way, his expression serious. Only once you stood amidst such devastation could you fully appreciate both the power of a wildfire and its result. It wasn’t only the heather that had died. It was every living creature within it.

Reaching the ruins of the croft house, Jo noted that the digger had been removed. No doubt to be studied in more detail as the probable source of the fire.

Passing the ruins of the croft, she followed Ivan to the gaping hole of the grave.

‘D’you think we’ll ever find out who she was and who buried her here?’ he said.

‘DIFlett won’t give up, I think, until she’s identified and buried properly,’ Jo told him.

‘Good,’ Ivan said with a nod. ‘Right, let’s head for the beach.Willie said to follow the burn. Apparently Ivor used to keep a fishing boat down there.’

Reaching the shore, Jo found it hard to imagine the picture postcard image of blue water and golden sand as the place in the video Willie had sent them, where the same water had encircled the charred body of a man.

‘So where did he come from?’ Ivan said. ‘Up there?’ He pointed towards the hill. ‘Or out there?’ He indicated the outline of distant Cava.

‘I don’t remember the boss mentioning any samples of vegetation in the forensic evidence collected from the body,’ Jo said. ‘Although it could have been washed off by the incoming tide, I suppose.’

‘Maybe that’s why the boss thought he might have come from the water,’ Ivan said.

‘If the body turns out to be Kris, then we do have a motive. And a number of possible suspects in the various members of the Mowat clan,’ Jo said. ‘If it isn’t Kris, and I hope it isn’t, we have an even bigger puzzle to solve.’

33

His first impression was of a tall, well-built male with dark hair. Probably in his early thirties, fit, maybe from running or working out. Something about the way he held himself also reminded him of Rory.

Shaking that thought from his head, Erling rose and, coming round the desk, offered his hand asDCGunn introduced the new arrival.

‘DSGowan, it’s good to have you with us,’ Erling said.

‘Glad to be here,’ came the deep-voiced reply.

‘You’re not from Caithness, then?’ Erling attempted to keep his voice even, so as not to alertDSGowan to both his surprise and immediate unease at the unexpected accent.