The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(12)

‘You are joking!’ She dipped her head on one side, peering curiously at him. ‘We’ll be heading north soon, Ryan. We have scene issues to consider at either end of the country. We’ll be working round the clock, camping out at base for the foreseeable future.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Ryan said casually. ‘Caroline will understand. Maybe Hilary can go in my place.’ Caroline was his twin sister; Hilary, Jack Fenwick’s widow.

O’Neil pretended not to notice how distressed he was. Ryan idolized Jack and had done everything possible to find him. Since his murder she’d taken the time to call on and support Hilary and the kids. In Ryan’s book that was an action above and beyond a duty call. He palmed his brow, wiping away a thin film of sweat that had settled there.

Ryan moved to safer ground. ‘Don’t you find it odd that a senior judge of Trevathan’s standing could go missing for such a long period of time and not be missed?’

‘Not really, no. Judges usually head off to their second homes over the summer recess. With a big case to prepare for, he might have shifted his leave period back a little.’

‘Wouldn’t he call to say he was on his way home?’

‘Call who? His housekeeper was away, remember?’

‘Yes, of course she was.’ He rolled his eyes at his mistake, but he still wasn’t happy. ‘I’d love to know why she didn’t raise the alarm when he failed to surface on the date he was expected. He was a top judge, if he missed even a single day in court it would have major repercussions.’

‘She’s the hired help, Ryan! She wouldn’t have a clue what he was working on. Reading between the lines of that letter, it sounds like he had previous for changing his holiday plans at a moment’s notice. That’s the way the other half live, whether you like it or not.’

‘Maybe. Wouldn’t you think there would have been contact, however minimal, between the housekeepers in Cornwall and Scotland?’

‘Ordinarily, yes. But not if his Scottish housekeeper was on holiday.’

They both went quiet for a moment.

O’Neil spoke first. ‘Call Mrs Forbes when we get back and ask her about Trevathan’s footwear, please.’

‘It’s on the list.’ Ryan supped his pint and replaced it on the beer mat. ‘What I don’t get is the report on the CCTV.’

‘In what respect?’

‘Police Scotland clocked Trevathan’s car travelling north, established that he was in it, but claim he wasn’t followed. He got as far as Aberfeldy before he fell off the radar—’

‘And never made it home. That threw me too.’

‘That’s not what I meant but it’s easily explained.’

‘Is it?’ O’Neil was curious.

‘I reckon he took his dog for a walk after the long drive north. Caroline always does the same thing when we’ve been a distance. As soon as I park up, she gets out, takes Bob for his constitutional before she ever steps inside the house. A guide dog is still a dog like any other. As soon as he gets a sniff of home, Bob gets excited, starts yelping and barking. Trevathan’s dog would sense the end of the journey too. By all accounts, they were joined at the hip. If you’re a dog-lover, it’s a question of priorities: the animal comes first.’

‘Suppose.’ O’Neil had never owned a dog. She’d never been in a position to give one the time it deserved. ‘Why not drive all the way home and walk the dog on his estate? It’s big enough.’

‘Do you shit in your own yard?’

O’Neil grinned. ‘Point taken.’

‘Maybe they liked the river, the dog wanted out for a wee or the judge needed to stretch his legs. I checked the map. His estate is north of Kenmore. He’d have to cross the bridge to get there. Easier to park at the Bistro where his car was found.’

‘Works for me.’ O’Neil picked up her beer. ‘What were you going to say before?’

‘If Trevathan was away and returned early, but wasn’t followed, how did the offenders grab him? You just said, Forbes was not at home. No one in Scotland knew he was coming, which sounds like a random attack, so nothing to do with his trial.’

‘OK, we’ll bear that in mind going forward. Anything else?’

‘Well, for a start, I reckon you’re right about Spielberg. Watching that DVD this morning, it occurred to me that she was choosing her shots for dramatic effect, cutting away here and there to create suspense in an attempt to increase our anxiety. The lock-up was lit by something and yet it has no power. Photographic lighting would be my guess – a torch would give off too much glare. She could have been shooting a horror movie, the way it was staged. All we’re missing is the spine-chilling music—’

O’Neil’s brow furrowed. ‘Or someone else was directing and she merely did the voiceover.’

‘That’s another thing – why do a voiceover?’ Ryan asked. ‘The woman on the tape had no need to speak, so why did she?’

‘Good question, bearing in mind her voice is presently the only thing we have to go on. Once we confirm a link to the other two scenes – and we both know that’s a foregone conclusion – an analyst will give us an idea of where she’s from. It might be our only chance of nailing her.’