Ann Cleeves - Raven Black

If he hadn't known, Perez would have put him down as a lawyer or accountant. There was a tea tray on the table. It was untouched and looked as if it had been there some time.

Perez introduced himself.

'I want to see my daughter,' Ross said. 'I've tried to explain how important that is.'

'Of course, But I'm afraid that will be later. No one is allowed to disturb her now. We have to preserve the crime scene.'

Ross had been sitting very upright, but now he collapsed and put his head in his hands. 'I can't believe it. Not until I see her.' He looked up. 'I was with my wife when she died. She'd been ill for months and we'd been expecting it. But even then I couldn't quite believe it. I kept expecting her to turn her head to me and smile.'

Perez didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet. 'How did Catherine die?' Ross asked. 'No one will tell me anything.' He looked at the policewoman. She pretended not to hear.

'We believe she was strangled,' Perez said. 'We'll know more when the team from Inverness arrives. They have more experience of serious crime than we do.'

'Who would want to kill her?'

He didn't seem to be expecting an answer, but Perez took advantage of the question. 'We're hoping you'll have the information to help us discover that. There isn't anyone who comes immediately to mind? A boyfriend she's recently dumped? Anyone who might be jealous, angry?'

'No. At least there might be, but I'm not the person to ask. You'd think we'd be close. There are only the two of us after all. But she didn't confide in me, Inspector. I know very little of what she got up to. We lived under the same roof, but sometimes I thought we were strangers.'

'I suppose that's how it is with teenagers,' Perez said. 'They resent their parents' prying.' Though how would I know?

I don't have children and when I was that age I was boarding out at the hostel. I'd have loved to have my parents to talk to every night. 'But you'll be able to give me the names of her friends. They'll be able to help.'

There was a moment of silence before Ross answered. 'I'm not sure Catherine was very close to anybody. She didn't need people. Liz, my wife, was very different. She had so many friends. At her funeral the church was packed, people standing at the back, people I'd never met but who felt close to her, touched by her warmth. I don't know who will come when we bury Catherine. Not many people.'

The statement almost took Perez's breath away. It seemed such a sad and chilling thing to say. He wondered if that was how it had always been. If Catherine had always been compared to Euan's wife and been found wanting.

'Didn't she hang around with Sally Henry?' he said at last.

'The teacher's daughter? Yes, she did. They came into school on the bus together. I didn't usually bring Catherine in.

I leave the house too early and get back too late for her.' He gave a little smile which made Perez at last feel some sympathy for him. 'Besides, it wouldn't have been very cool, would it? Getting a lift with your Dad? Sally was often in the house. I was pleased that Catherine had the company. I'm not sure though how close they were.'

'Had she a regular boyfriend since you moved to Shetland?'

'I don't think she's ever had a regular boyfriend,' Ross said. 'And I'm not sure I'd know about it if she had.'

Perez left him, sitting in the head's office, staring into space. He couldn't tell if it was his daughter Ross was grieving for or his wife. Outside the school he looked down at the familiar town. He'd moved back to Shetland after Sarah had left. He'd seen it as a failure, an act of running away. It had been a sort of promotion, but it wasn't real policing, was it?

That was what his colleagues in Aberdeen had said. A bit young for retirement, aren't you, Jimmy lad? After losing the baby and separating from Sarah, he hadn't really cared. The big cases hadn't excited him any more. He'd stopped caring about the glory. And now he had a big case on his own patch and he felt something of the old thrill. Nothing to make a song and dance about just yet. But something stirring in his guts so he felt a bit more alive. The possibility of getting it right.

When Fran arrived at the school to collect Cassie, a crowd of adults was already there. This was unusual.

Most of the children – even the younger ones – were allowed to make their own way home. Fran stood apart for a moment watching the group. There was something intimidating about them, gathered in a circle. It was almost dark and it was hard to make out individuals.

They stamped their feet against the cold and talked in low, intense voices in a dialect she had problems understanding. Then she thought she had as much right to be there as they did. And when she approached them, they welcomed her, said how much of a shock it must have been to come across the body like that. They were sympathetic and she was the centre of attention. Inside the school the lights were on. They shone on the playground, reflecting from the ice where boys had made a slide and a half-built snowman.

At first their curiosity offended her but she thought none of them had really known Catherine. It wasn't as if she'd grown up there. They saw the girl as a character, someone they might have seen on TV. They crowded around Fran asking for details. Was it true that the birds had ripped out both the eyes? That Catherine had been naked? Was there blood? Despite herself Fran answered.

'1 saw that detective from Fair Isle was in Magnus 'Tait's house.' Fran didn't recognize the speaker. It was a sharp-faced, pinched little woman. In her forties, she could have been a mother or a young grandmother. She continued shrilly, breaking in on the conversation around her, 'Perhaps this time they'll put him away where he belongs.'

'What do you mean?'

'Didn't you know? It's not the first time it's happened. A girl was killed here before.'

'Now, Jennifer, we don't know she was killed.'

'Well, she'd not have disappeared into thin air, would she? And although it was summer, it was stormy that week. I mind it fine. There were no planes or boats south for days. Not that Catriona could have got on to either without someone realizing it was odd for a young girl to be on her own.'

'Who was she?' Fran told herself this was malicious gossip. She should stand apart from it and not get involved. But it didn't prevent the question.

'Catriona Bruce. Eleven years old. The family lived in the house where Euan Ross stays now. Some coincidence huh? They had to move. How could they stay there with reminders of her everywhere and not knowing for certain what happened to her? I think it was a worse crime than killing her, not letting on what he'd done with the body.'

'But if Magnus was never charged,' Fran's Guardian values reasserted themselves, 'you can't be certain it was him.'

'It was him all right. We always knew he was daft in the head. He was like a child himself. Everyone thought he was harmless. We were more innocent in those days, maybe. People thought they were doing a kindness, letting their children in to talk to him. We know better now!

I let Cassie talk to him, Fran thought. Nobody warned me not to. She remembered Magnus hurrying out of his house to greet them, almost stumbling in his eagerness to catch up with them, before they'd walked on. She shivered.

Inside the school a bell rang and the children ran out.

By the time they arrived home it was quite dark. This time of year once the sun fell below the horizon night came very quickly. She went in and drew the curtains before switching on the lights. She'd hurried Cassie past Magnus's house, tugging on the mittened hand, jollying her along with the promise of treats at home. She'd wondered how she'd react if Magnus came out, but wasn't put to the test. She'd glanced once towards Hillhead, thought she'd glimpsed a pale, staring face and had looked quickly away. Perhaps she'd imagined it; perhaps he'd already been arrested.