Mo Hayder - Pig Island

For lunch me and Oakesy sat in silence at Struthers's desk and ate supermarket sandwiches, like office workers on a rainy lunch-hour. Angeline couldn't eat. She tried but you could see it was like trying to swallow pebbles. When Struthers came to get her to give her statement she stood, but she was shaking so much they had to call a female officer to come and help her away.

'She's in shock,' Oakesy said. 'Take it easy with her.'

Ten minutes later he was taken off by a detective who said he was the 'senior identification manager'. He needed help in making up a list of missing persons. Well, that took almost two hours during which time guess who was left alone in the office, with nothing to do but read through the Strathclyde Police leaflets from Reception — Loch Safety; What Happens If I'm Arrested?; Cadet Programme: So You Think You're Too Young to Join the Police? — and stare at the area map. Nobody said anything about getting our stuff from the bungalow, no matter how many times I asked, and I didn't have my phone with me to send a text.

'No one's even offered me a cup of tea,' I told Oakesy, when he and Angeline came back to the office. 'Not a thing since lunch. I wouldn't mind a cup of tea.'

At four p.m. an intimidating team of plainclothes men arrived from Dumbarton, silent, grim-looking in their suits. At their helm was the subdivisional chief inspector: a bit older than Christophe, maybe mid-fifties, very thin and austere, the height of a basketball player with the long, serious face of a professor. When he came into Struthers's office he didn't say hello or anything: he went past us to the window, put his nose to the pane and studied the view thoughtfully. I knew what was out there — God knows, I'd had enough time to look out at it: a little parking area behind the station, two marked cars and a row of dustbins. Beyond that the back-street rooftops… then purplish, heather-pocked hills, deserted and alien.

After a few minutes he closed the blinds, twisting the slats so they met each other neatly and didn't let any daylight through. Then he switched on the fluorescent lights and came to sit down opposite us. He didn't speak for a while, just studied us carefully, one after the other.

'I'm Peter Danso,' he said eventually. 'I'm the police incident commander, which means, for your purposes, I'll be heading up the investigation. I'm sorry it's taken me some time to come and speak to you. There's been a lot to — to deal with.' He leaned over and shook our hands. We all said our names in turn, like children at register time. It was making me nervous, the way he seemed so worried about us. He turned to Oakesy and Angeline. 'I've read your statements and there are a few things I want to say to you both. A lot of issues around your mental welfare and what we can do to support you, of course. But what's on my mind, what I'm here for now, is to discuss your plans.'

'I'm staying,' said Oakesy. 'I'm staying here.'

Danso nodded slowly, taking him in: his scabbed knees and battered hands. The measured look in his eyes. 'You know there's nothing to stop you just getting out of Strathclyde right now? I'm not going to lie, you're crucial to our investigation, and in a perfect world I'd have you stay, both of you.' He looked at Angeline who was staring at the floor, bright red in the face. 'But I want this clear — all I can do is advise you to stay. I can't force you.'

'I know,' Oaksey said. 'I'm staying.'

'OK, OK.' Danso propped an elbow on his desk and scratched his ear uncomfortably. 'Look, I don't need to tell you how serious this is. And reading through your statements just now one or two red flags came up for me that made me want to think carefully about your safety. With the trouble this lass's father is in… well, in my experience it makes him dangerous.' He met Oakesy's eyes and held them. 'Very dangerous indeed. In the next few hours someone'll be thinking about doing an impact assessment and that'll address just how worried we should be…'

On Danso's belt his phone rang. He checked the display, put it on to answer and looked back up at us.

'We had a vehicle stolen from the car park at Crinian Hotel on Saturday night — at about eleven. Do you know Crinian? It's one of the places boats put in to when they come off the islands.'

'He took the little dory, the one they had at the centre. It was missing.'

'Aye, and my head's telling me the stolen car is just some kids come up from Glasgow, but my ticker's got a mind of its own on the subject. Now, you've got history with him, Mr Oakes. He's already injured you once.'

'Yes.'

'He knows where you live? And he threatened you?'

'Yes.'

Danso sighed and rubbed his temple. He dropped his hand away from his head in Oakesy's direction. 'It's a pity you didn't report it. If you'd reported it at the time we could have-'

'I know, I know. Tell me about it. It's gone through my head about a million times — if I'd told you then, you could've done something about it.'

Danso nodded. He studied Oakesy for a long time without speaking, as if he was trying hard not to say something nasty. My heart was still going fast, thinking about the close call I'd had, but I had a moment's faint satisfaction. I'd begged Oakesy to report it, but would he? It will come back to haunt you, Oakesy.

'Look,' Danso said eventually, 'I'm going to be honest. I don't have a lot of experience with endangerment of witnesses, but…' He pulled out a drawer in the filing cabinet, rummaged a bit and found a folder. He held it up, clearing his throat and giving us an apologetic look. '… Strathclyde Police has got a dedicated witness protection scheme. Sorry to come over like a PR exercise, but we're one of the only forces that has.' He opened it and distributed a set of stapled papers to each of us. I looked at the top page in my lap. 'These are the unit's criteria forms. I think it'd be worth filling them out and sending them down to Headquarters to see what they think.'

Oakesy flipped through the pages, his face tense. Angeline took her copy without meeting Danso's eyes. She read in silence, the paper in her lap, her hands up to her face.

'It's not going to happen overnight. Even if it comes back from Pitt Street with a tick in the box it's still going to take time to process, so in the meantime my lads back in Dumbarton have been calling the locals to find somewhere safe for you. They've come up with a place — on my home patch, as it happens. My feeling is, it'll be better than anything the witness team can offer you.'

'A safe-house?' I said. 'Is that what you mean? A safe-house?'

Danso looked up at me and smiled. His face was suddenly pleasant, not austere any more. 'Hen, if you want to call it that then be my guest. I hope you won't be disappointed. It's a property we use for visiting police officers. It used to be a hidey-hole for victims to give their evidence. Vulnerable victims, if you're with me: racial harassment, child abuse, rape.' He let that sink in. 'Put it this way, it's not the Hilton.'

'All my things are still at the bungalow. He knows the address.'

'We've got someone out there already, having a look round. When we've cleared it we can pick your stuff up.'

'Or this could be a good time for you to go and see your mum, Lex?' Oakesy said, turning to me. 'This is going to be over in a few days and then I'll drive down and get you. We'll take her to that tapas place she likes and-'

'No. That's OK — I'll stay. I'll come to the safe-house.'

'I think you'd be better off-'

'I mean it,' I said, cutting him off. 'I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you. And…' I leaned over and put my hand on Angeline's arm. She dropped her hands from her face in surprise at the touch and stared down at my fingers, white and clean-looking, the nails quite pink and nice next to her earth-stained skin. '… and you must come with us too,' I said. 'You really must. You need to be with someone who can care for you.'