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‘What happened?’ Luc asked.
‘Oh, you know, like most crushes you have when you’re ten and your instructor’s twenty-five, it ended when he patted me on the head and said I’d tried really hard, then his bleach blonde girlfriend turned up in her miniskirt and my heart broke into a thousand pieces.’
‘Are you over it yet?’
‘Well, I still feel butterflies in my stomach when I see a man holding a longbow but other than that, I think I’m through the worst. Do you believe in ghosts?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s simple statistics. How many people have inhabited this earth and died? Surely we’d be overrun with restless spirits if that was the case.’
‘Cynic,’ she replied. ‘I thought Frenchmen were supposed to be romantic.’
‘Is that what you brought me here for? Romance? I’m not sure looking for a recently deceased man’s nails in a wall qualifies as a date.’
‘Idiot. If this were a date, I’d be wearing my good socks,’ she grinned, leaning forwards to look to the top of the castle walls. ‘But for what it’s worth, I agree with you. William Wordsworth wrote, “I look for ghosts; but none will force their way to me; ’t is falsely said that there was ever intercourse between the living and the dead.” Isn’t that beautiful?’
‘I’m sure it is, but I may be having trouble directly translating it. My English is still pretty literal and most words only have one meaning.’
Ava frowned in confusion momentarily, then closed her eyes and shook her head in mock disgust.
‘Forget it, Romeo. If that’s the best you can do when I’m providing a backdrop of poetry, you should probably just keep quiet.’ She zipped up her waterproof and tried to open the door, the wind slamming it back hard against her shin as she went to exit. ‘Ow! For fuck’s sake!’ she growled.
‘Yup, you’ve got all the poetry tonight,’ Callanach said. ‘Let me get that door for you.’ He exited and jogged round to offer her a hand up as she rubbed her bruised leg. ‘Are you sure you want to do this now?’
‘No, but the way this storm’s rolling in, if there is anything to see it’ll be gone before morning, so it’s now or never. Come on.’
They went through the visitor centre, where some unlucky local uniformed officer had been stationed with an employee to allow them access, and walked towards the front entrance of the castle, still imposing even in its semi-ruined state. A gale was buffeting them from the north and the rain was only a degree short of freezing. Ava pulled up her hood and shook long dark brown curls of wet hair from her eyes.
They took the wooden footbridge over the old moat and entered through the arched doorway of a greenish brick structure. Below them and to the right, encompassing an area of loose fallen rocks and part of the moat, was a section of crime-scene taping. Beyond that, they were met with slippery cobblestones before the castle grounds opened up ahead of them. In front, a grassed area led to cliffs that crumbled into the sea. A fierce whistling echoed around the ancient structure and it was easy to see why visitors had imagined ghosts there, stepping back hundreds of years in time. It was clear that no attacker could have approached from the direction of the sea and also that Ava was right. Suicide in the direction of the cliffs would have been the much more obvious option.
Luc saw Ava pointing towards an internal doorway and they went inside to find a spiral stone staircase with little to assist their climb other than a rope attached to the central wall. He followed close behind her, watching her footing, fighting his desire to reach up and steady her. Ava wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted or needed much help, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to switch off how protective he felt of her. She’d become his closest friend in Scotland, which wasn’t always simple given that she was also his boss.
Ducking under additional crime-scene tape, they moved to a level paved outcrop with a visitors’ information board. The section was wide, easily three foot across, and level enough to have stood safely, if not advisedly on top of the wall, overlooking the bridge and the moat. Above them, higher walls blocked some of the wind but none of the rain.
‘Apparently, this is the fore tower. When exactly did our man fall?’
‘He was found at the bottom of the wall when staff got in this morning. The castle doesn’t open until 10 a.m. at this time of year and the door we came through is locked at night. We won’t know what time he fell until Ailsa completes her report and estimates time of death, but it was between about 7 p.m. and 8 a.m. They have cameras at the visitor centre, which we’ve checked, but they don’t give a good enough night-time picture for us to see anything,’ Ava shouted over the wind.
‘He broke in?’ Callanach asked.
‘What?’ Ava yelled, huddling into him to hear.
Callanach put an arm around her shoulders and cupped a hand over her ear to make himself heard.
‘I said, did he break in or just stay after the centre closed?’
‘I’m told there’s no damage to the door or the lock, but there’s no CCTV of the castle itself, so we can’t be sure. Apparently, people have ended up locked in here at night before. Plenty of small corners to hide if you don’t want to be spotted. Look …’ She pointed over the edge, leaning perilously across the rough stone wall. ‘He must have fallen from just here. Hold onto me.’ She climbed the wall past the information board and lay on her stomach, head over the edge, indicating for Luc to hold the back of her coat.
‘No,’ he said, loudly enough for her to hear perfectly clearly over the gusts. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘I think you mean, I can’t let you do that, ma’am,’ Ava corrected him. ‘If you don’t hold onto me tightly enough, I’m joining our as yet unidentified friend on Ailsa’s table, so get a grip. Literally.’
‘Come back. I’ll climb it. Call me whatever names you like, I’m not okay with you taking that sort of risk.’
‘Except there’s no way I’m strong enough to pull you back when you slip. You’ll just take me down with you and that’s not how I want to go, so follow orders, Detective Inspector. I spent my childhood climbing walls like these and in worse weather.’
Dangling from the waist forwards, Ava leaned as far over the edge as Callanach would allow her. He guessed they were around fifteen metres up and even if his estimate was wrong, given the dark and precipitation, he was certain it was a sufficient distance to be lethal. Ava cursed every few seconds, shifting along the wall, moving the flashlight to and fro, up and down, until finally she shouted out.
‘Camera!’ Ava yelled, waving the flashlight towards Callanach’s face.
‘I need a free hand. You’ll have to come back up a second.’
‘No can do. I’ll never find this again. My camera’s in the left-hand pocket of my coat. Just grab it and pass it to me.’
‘God, you stubborn, stupid …’
‘I can hear you, you know. Take the torch.’
Callanach took it, keeping a grip of Ava with his right hand as he delved into her pocket and passed her digital camera to her.
‘What is it?’ he shouted.
‘Flap of skin, I think. There’s a thin line of it snagged on the rock.’
The flash went off several times and Luc braced himself to counterbalance Ava’s increasingly outward-leaning weight.
‘Take the camera and pass me an evidence bag.’
Callanach slipped the camera into his coat and reached into his trouser pocket for a plastic bag.
‘Ava, we have to come back and do this in the morning.’
‘It’ll be gone by then. There must have been blood here given the amount of skin but I can’t see any trace of it. If Ailsa’s right about the boot mark, this might be our last chance to get the evidence.’
Callanach handed her the bag. ‘Just give me a bit more room to manoeuvre, I think there’s something else stuck in the rock.’
She shifted her weight in order to move her head downwards. The gust that took her came from the opposite direction than the predominant gale, rendering Callanach’s balance useless and thrusting him forwards into Ava’s body. She screamed, grabbed the rock face, rolling to one side and losing her grip, her right leg flying into the air then crashing back down into the jagged brickwork. Her jeans ripped from knee to ankle and her cheekbone smashed hard against the bricks.
Callanach threw himself forwards, wrapping an arm around her thigh, feeling her slipping away from him. Scrabbling at the rock face, the flailing of her body was making it harder to hold her. The wind whipped around her head, taking her screams down the sheer castle wall.
‘Ava, I’m pulling you up on three. Tense your stomach, stop grabbing the walls and reach for my arm!’ he yelled with no way of knowing if she’d heard.
Forcing his boot tips over the ninety degree angle of the wall he was lying on to gain some stability, Callanach tensed.
‘One, two …’
She wrenched on his arm, moving too early, too jerkily. Her leg ripped away from him as she got a grasp of his hand.
‘Hold me!’ she screeched.
Blood was pouring down her face, and her grip was wet and weak on his hand. Both legs flew out behind her in the wind.
He scraped forwards across the flat of the wall, twisting his body to get better pulling power and dragging a knee up and under his core, roaring as he fought the wind for her, his right arm a vice around her back, launching himself backwards. They flew upwards and crashed against the rear of the visitor information sign, Ava like a rag doll in his arms once her weight shifted over the top of the wall. She landed on top of him, crying out and clutching him madly. Callanach cradled her head, whispering words of reassurance she would never hear over her cries and the storm.
It was minutes before she raised her head to look at him.
‘Do you need an ambulance?’ he asked.
Ava flexed both legs and ran her hand down her neck, tipping her head to one side then the other.
‘I’m okay,’ she decided.
‘You’re not okay. You’ve got a bloody death wish.’
Callanach took her by the shoulders and shook her. She looked at him, horrified, then her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed, shaking against his chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered into her hair. ‘You scared me. Come on, let me look at that gash on your face.’
Ava turned so he could wipe the worst of the blood away to inspect the injury beneath.
‘The cut on your cheek’s not too bad, but you’ve got a hell of a bump on your forehead. We should get you checked out for concussion. Can you walk?’
Ava nodded, rolling to her knees to get upright.
‘Slowly,’ he said. ‘Let me hold you.’
Standing, he pulled her up, sliding one arm around her waist and protecting her damaged face with his other hand. They took the spiral staircase at a snail’s pace, with Ava gripping the wall on one side and Callanach’s hand in front of her as if she were on a ship in a squall, pausing every few steps. He pulled her into one of the tiny but secure side rooms to rest before taking a look at her leg.
By the time they reached the ground, she was shaking so badly, Callanach was worried she might pass out.
‘Let me carry you. It’s flat from here.’
She looked up at him, her grey eyes huge in her ashen face, her hair bloody and flattened against her head.
‘Like hell you will,’ she managed with the smallest of smiles.
He laughed, loud and hard, the tension leaving his body in fierce waves that left him nauseous and breathless.
‘We need to get you warmed up,’ he said when he could finally speak again.
Finally, they staggered in through the visitor centre door, making the uniformed officer posted there jump up and grab for his ASP baton.
‘It’s all right,’ Callanach reassured him. ‘There was an accident, not an incident.’
‘Shall I call an ambulance for you, ma’am?’ the young man asked, keeping his distance from them as if they might be contagious.
‘No, I’m fine. Nothing a couple of paracetamol won’t fix,’ Ava said. ‘Lock up behind us then report back to your station, Constable. Would you mind being discreet about this? I don’t want anyone thinking DI Callanach and I had a fist fight.’ She did her best to smile, but her face was losing its numbness and redefining the definition of pain.
‘Absolutely, ma’am, you can count on it,’ he said stoically, opening the door for them to exit towards the car park.
‘One thing,’ Ava said, looking at the castle employee who was staring at her as if she’d just landed in an alien spacecraft. ‘If you did get trapped inside the castle walls at night, is there any way at all you might get out? I mean, if it was something like a life-or-death situation.’
Kevin, his name badge proclaimed, snapped to remarkably quickly.
‘Two options,’ he mused, rubbing his greying bread and glancing back up towards the castle as if he could see the answers. ‘If you were slim and wanted to badly enough, even an adult could maybe climb through one of the bomb holes then get out down the banks of the moat. Alternatively, if the tide was out, you could clamber down the rocks to the sea and walk along to the section of the beach from where it’s possible to get back up. You’d have to be fit, though. Uninjured and strong. I wouldn’t want to try it.’
‘Thank you,’ Ava said. ‘I take it I can count on you not to say too much about the state I’m in …’
‘I’m a Scot, madam,’ Kevin said. ‘We survived a tumultuous history by being loyal and having an uncanny ability to keep our lips sealed. Nothing’s changed.’
Ava gave Kevin a smile that Callanach thought would have melted the heart of every Scottish warrior ever to have fought the English at Tantallon before taking hold of Callanach’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.
Callanach opened the passenger door and helped Ava in.
‘The Royal Infirmary’s on our way back into the city. There won’t be any traffic this late. Just relax. I’ll have you there in fifteen minutes.’
‘Stop, please, it’s a few bumps and bruises. Nothing’s broken except my pride. Just get me home.’ Ava rested her head backwards and closed her eyes.
‘Are you kidding? After what just happened? Can you feel the size of the lump on your head? Come on, Ava, that’s more stupid than wilful.’ He started the car and pulled away.
‘Luc, please.’ She extended a hand slowly to rest on his forearm. ‘What I did was rash. It was unfair to you. If an officer in my command took a risk like that I’d suspend them. Even I’m not sure what came over me. If you take me to the hospital, this goes official. Give me a break, okay?’
He sighed, the admission that she was right unnecessary. ‘What about going to see Ailsa at home? She’ll look you over.’
‘I’ll scare her rigid. She’ll be furious and I’ll never hear the last of it. No. I just need a hot bath, a stiff drink and a first-aid kit.’
‘Natasha?’ he tried.
Ava’s best friend would be just as angry, but she’d look after Ava overnight without a second thought.
‘Spending most nights at her new girlfriend’s house. Would you let it go? I’m not a child. The shock was worse than the injuries.’
‘Do you even have ice in your freezer, because you’re going to need some for your head?’
‘Not sure, and the bump’s come out so it’s safe, right? You only have to panic when there’s no lump.’
‘Remind me never to let you make important medical decisions for me. You’re staying at mine. There’s still a chance you’re concussed and you shouldn’t be alone,’ he said firmly. ‘No arguments. And stay awake while we’re driving. If you fall asleep now, you’re waking up at the hospital whether you like it or not. Don’t bother arguing.’
For once, Ava didn’t, which told Callanach all he needed to know about her underlying state.
His apartment in Albany Street was the front first floor of a Victorian terraced house. He ordered her to sit on his sofa while he made up an ice pack and fetched her a blanket.
‘I’m running you a bath,’ he said. ‘Can you get your jeans off or do you need help? Your left leg’s badly cut and I need to take a look at the damage.’
Ava stared down at her jeans, cut almost in two on the left where she’d snagged them on the wall.
‘Hadn’t noticed,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any whisky? Brandy or port would do at a push.’
‘I’m making coffee,’ he replied, running a flannel over the bump on her head before putting the ice pack on it. ‘I’m afraid alcohol and head injuries don’t mix, whatever you Scots might regard as being traditional in these circumstances.’
‘Killjoy.’ She unbuttoned her jeans and wriggled out of them, inspecting her left leg by kicking it out from under the blanket. ‘I guess I’m not going to be wearing a skirt for a few weeks. That’s nasty.’
The leg was blotched purple and black down her shin from the knee to the ankle and a four-inch cut, thankfully not too deep, was going to make an impressive addition to her collection of scars.
Callanach handed her a steaming mug and perched on the end of the sofa.
‘Are we going to talk about what you did tonight?’
‘Are you going to psychoanalyse me, because you know I find that boring?’ She took a sip, screwing her nose up at the strength of the coffee. ‘This stuff can’t be good for you.’
‘Don’t change the subject,’ Callanach said, kicking off his shoes and rolling up his sleeves. ‘If you’d really wanted to scope the outer wall for forensics, we could have got a team in there. I know it would have taken longer, and it’s still a fishing expedition until Ailsa’s finished her report, but what you did broke all the rules. It’s my fault too, I shouldn’t have let you, but I didn’t think you’d be so …’
‘Foolish? Idiotic? Reckless? I’m not going to make up excuses. There were real reasons for going there tonight, to visit the scene and see if there was any evidence worth protecting or that might bolster Ailsa’s theory. I hadn’t intended to climb the wall. I just got that sudden burst of adrenaline. The dark, the wildness, the sense of adventure.’ She put her coffee down and rearranged the ice on her head. ‘I don’t know, Luc. I spend so much time sitting at my desk, doing paperwork and giving orders, sending other people out to crime scenes, hearing about other officers’ experiences. I feel as if I’ve lost touch with everything I joined the force to do. All police officers have a healthy dose of hero syndrome. It’s why we throw ourselves into the middle of fights, and – yes – dangle off high walls to preserve that one piece of evidence that’ll be gone by morning. I don’t have a death wish. Quite the opposite. I need to feel alive again.’
‘Damn, I forgot the bath,’ he said, dashing off towards his bedroom.
She heard the water stop flowing and cupboard doors banging. He reappeared holding two huge crimson towels and offering her a hand up.
‘Ava, I understand you’re feeling stuck, but you could have died tonight. That’s more than just desk boredom.’
‘It’s not just my desk,’ she groaned as she hobbled towards his bathroom. ‘There’s nothing – and no one – to go home to. Work is my whole life, so when I’m not sure why I’m doing it any more … God, listen to me moaning. I love my job, you know that. But I’m in my mid-thirties. I haven’t been in a relationship in forever, and the last one I did try was a disaster. My best friend calls me a work-in-progress and that might be funny if it weren’t true. I don’t go out. I don’t do social media. I can’t even bloody well cook! How sad is it to count down the hours until you’re back behind the desk you’re starting to hate?’
She dropped the blanket on the bathroom floor and pulled her top over her head. Callanach turned away to give her some privacy. Ava winced audibly as she lowered herself into the hot water.
‘I’ll give you some space,’ Callanach said, reaching for the door handle.
‘Actually, could you stay?’ she asked quietly. ‘I mean, with your back turned, obviously. I may be sad and lonely but I’m not that desperate.’
‘Charming,’ he laughed, sitting in the bathroom doorway but staring out into his bedroom, his suitcase as yet unpacked on the floor and his passport thrown onto the bedcovers. ‘Dizzy?’
‘A little,’ Ava admitted, dunking her hair backwards in the water and screwing up her face at the cloudy swirls of red that came out of it. ‘Hey, thanks for looking after me. And I’m sorry for what I put you through up there. I haven’t even asked if you’re hurt.’
‘Couple of bruises from when you landed on top of me. For someone who can’t cook, you can certainly eat.’
Ava laughed. ‘Bastard,’ she said, throwing a wet flannel at the back of his head.
They both knew it wasn’t true. Ava was thinner than ever. Callanach had only been away a couple of weeks, but he’d noticed it as soon as he’d seen her at the city mortuary.
‘So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but of all the medical suggestions you had, you didn’t mention Selina. Is everything okay, only it seemed logical to me that you might have offered to let your accident and emergency doctor girlfriend take a look at me?’
Callanach stretched his arms above his head and breathed deeply. ‘Ex-girlfriend. Very amicable and I’m sure if I’d have asked, she’d have been only too happy to have helped out. It just felt like I’d be taking advantage, given how badly I’ve let her down.’
‘Your decision then, not hers? Stop me if I’m prying.’
‘Good. I’m stopping you. You’re prying,’ he replied gently.
‘Did she not go to Paris with you?’ Ava continued.
Callanach tutted. ‘Really?’ he asked.
‘Well, I am naked in your bath, so I feel somewhat entitled to be questioning you about your private life, especially given that I’ve just poured my heart out to you about what a pathetic loser I am.’
‘You recognise that I just saved your life, right? Was that not enough, or do you still feel as if I owe you the extra pound of flesh?’
He turned to stare at her, forgetting his promise to remain facing the other direction, not that her modesty was compromised from his angle. All he could see was the top of her head and her eyes, beneath which he knew she was grinning wildly.
‘We talked about her joining me in Paris, but I had too much to sort out with my mother. Selina suggested we book a holiday together later in the year – something to look forward to in the summer. I knew it wasn’t right. She’s an amazing woman.’
‘Way too good for you,’ Ava said gently.
‘Agreed. Anyway, I told her just before I left. She wanted me to think about it while I was away and maybe give it another try, but I’m wasting her time. She needs to be free to find someone who can be everything she deserves. I’d planned to call her tonight and make that clear, but then you decided to pull this little stunt.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Luc. Why is life never simple?’
‘At least you took my mind off it. Are you ready to get out yet?’
‘Yeah. Tired now,’ she said. ‘Would you mind helping me up? My muscles are starting to seize.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Eyes closed, I promise.’
‘You’d better. I couldn’t stand to see the look of disappointment on your face after being used to Selina’s five feet ten inches of pure legs and all-round Spanish gorgeousness.’ She reached a hand out to put on Callanach’s shoulder as she climbed gingerly from the tub and picked up a towel. ‘Okay, I’m decent.’
‘Why do you always do that?’ he asked.
‘Ask for help getting out of the bath? I’m not sure I make a habit of …’
‘Put yourself down and make a joke of everything. Is that really how you see yourself, or are you just pushing men away?’ Callanach asked, letting her lean on his arm as she left the bathroom.
‘It’s too late for serious conversations,’ she said. ‘You take the bed. I’m already invading your space. I’ll be fine on the sofa.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ll sleep on the bed and I’m staying next to you. I don’t like the look of that bump and you shouldn’t be left alone. Now lie down. I need to put some Steri-Strips on those wounds.’
