Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

All at once the wind seemed to still. A sudden quiet descended, broken only by the cascade of rain on to the floor.

‘Sounds like it’s easing,’ Duncan said, hopefully.

But Brody had his head cocked to listen. There was a distant rushing sound, like a train roaring towards us.

‘No, it’s changed direction,’ he said, and then the wind slammed into the cottage again.

I was sprayed with ash and slurry as it seemed to descend right into the room. Above us, the roof responded with a groan of protesting timbers, sending tiles tumbling to the floor.

‘Let’s go,’ Brody shouted above the din, shoving Duncan towards the doorway.

‘Not yet,’ I yelled. I still hadn’t bagged the surviving hand or feet, and we needed those for fingerprint and soft tissue analysis. But before I could do anything there was a loud bang as the roof began to rip free.

‘Move!’ Brody shouted. I made a grab for the hand as he pulled me to my feet.

‘The flight case!’ I yelled.

Brody snatched it up without stopping. Debris rained down around us as we ran back through the kitchen. From behind us there was an almighty crash, and for a heart-stopping instant I thought the whole place was coming down. Then we were outside and in the clear.

Breathless, we turned and looked back. The whole of the cottage roof had gone. Part of it had been torn clean off, while the rest had fallen in, bringing down most of one wall as well. The room where we’d been standing only seconds before was now buried under rubble.

Along with the rest of the dead woman’s remains.

Fraser and Duncan were standing nearby, their faces shocked.

‘Jesus Christ,’ breathed Fraser, staring at me.

I looked down at myself. My white overalls were splashed and covered with wet ash. I could feel it on my face, smearing it like a penitent’s at Easter. But it wasn’t that he’d been staring at.

Still clutched in my fist, like part of a showroom dummy, was the dead woman’s hand.

WE TOOK THE evidence bags back to the village. The only other option was leaving them in the camper van, but while the bone and ashes could have been stored there the woman’s hand needed to be kept at a low temperature to preserve the decaying tissue. And the camper van didn’t have a fridge.

It was Duncan who thought of the medical clinic. We would have to clear it with Cameron, and probably Strachan as well, since he’d funded it. But now we’d had no choice but to remove the remains from the crime scene, it was the obvious place to take them.

Fraser was still grumbling. He made it plain that he was absolving himself of any involvement in what we’d done.

‘I didn’t say you could do this,’ he reminded us, as we loaded the evidence bags into the Range Rover. ‘This was your call, not mine.’

‘You’d rather we’d left them in there then, would you?’ Brody asked, jerking his head towards the roofless cottage. ‘Explain to SOC that we’d stood by and watched the body be buried under the rubble?’

‘I’m just letting you know I’m not taking the blame for it. You can tell Wallace yourself.’

We still hadn’t been able to contact the superintendent. I could almost-though not quite-feel sorry for Fraser. Behind the bluster was a man desperate not to admit he was out of his depth.

‘Oh, don’t worry. I will.’ Brody spoke mildly enough, yet somehow managed to make his contempt plain. ‘And seeing how you’re washing your hands of it, you might as well relieve Duncan out here. He can clean himself up at my place after he’s helped take the bags to the clinic.’

‘Stay out here?’ Fraser barked, incredulously. ‘What for? There’s nothing left!’

Brody shrugged. ‘It’s still a crime scene. But if you want to explain to Wallace why you left it unattended, that’s up to you.’

Duncan had been listening, uneasily. ‘I don’t mind staying.’

‘You’ve been on duty all night,’ Brody said, before Fraser could respond. ‘I’m sure Sergeant Fraser wouldn’t ask a junior officer to do anything he’s not prepared to do himself.’

The expression on Fraser’s face was poisonous. ‘Aye, all right.’ He jabbed a finger at Duncan. ‘But I want you back no later than six. You’ll be staying out here again tonight.’

He shot Brody a triumphant look.

‘Can’t leave a crime scene unattended, can we?’

I saw the older man’s prominent jaw muscles bunch, but he said nothing as Fraser stalked off to the camper van. He gave the still worried-looking Duncan a smile.

‘Come on, son. You could do with a shower, if you don’t mind my saying.’

I went in the Range Rover with Duncan, while Brody followed in his own car. It was a relief to get out of the wind and rain. My shoulder was hurting, probably jarred as I’d hurried out of the cottage. I put my head back and closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew Duncan was waking me.

‘Dr Hunter? Should I stop for her?’

I sat up, blinking. Ahead of us the Porsche Cayenne I’d seen at Strachan’s house was pulled to the side of the road. Flagging us down from beside it, unmistakable in her white parka, was Grace.

‘Yes, you’d better.’

The wind was whipping her hair as we pulled up alongside. I wound down my window.

‘David, thank heavens!’ she said, giving me a beaming smile. “This is a dreadful bore, but I was just on my way to the village and the bloody car’s run out of petrol. Would you mind giving me a lift?’

I hesitated, thinking about the evidence bags visible behind the rear seat. By now Brody had pulled up behind us, the road being too narrow to allow him to pass. I considered suggesting she ride with him, but given the frosty relationship Brody had with her husband I thought better of it.

‘If it’s a problem I’ll walk,’ Grace said, her smile fading.

‘It’s no problem,’ I said, and turned to Duncan. ‘Is that OK by you?’

He grinned. ‘Aye, great.’ It was the first time he’d seen Strachan’s wife. ‘I mean, sure, no problem.’

I went to sit in the back, letting Grace have the front seat despite her protests. The delicate musk of her perfume filled the car, and I tried not to smile when I saw that Duncan was sitting noticeably straighter.

Grace gave him a dazzling smile when I introduced them. ‘You must be the young man they’ve got staying in the camper van.’

‘Uh, yes, ma’am.’

‘Poor you,’ she said, sympathetically touching his arm. Even from the back seat I could see Duncan’s ears turn crimson. I don’t think Grace even realized the effect she had on him. She turned round to talk to me as Duncan tried to concentrate on driving.

‘Thanks ever so much for stopping. I feel so stupid, running out of petrol like that. There’s no garage on the island, so we have to top up from containers. But I’m sure Michael said he’d filled up the cars last week. Or was it the week before?’ She puzzled over it for a second, then airily dismissed it. ‘Oh, well. Teach me to check the gauge in future, I suppose.’

‘Where would you like us to drop you?’ I asked.

‘At the school, if that’s no bother. I’m teaching a painting class this morning.’

‘Will Bruce Cameron be there?’

‘I should think so. Why?’

Without going into details, I explained what had happened at the cottage, and why we needed to use the clinic.

‘God, how gruesome,’ Grace said with a grimace. ‘Still, I’m sure Bruce won’t mind.’

I wasn’t so confident, but I couldn’t see Cameron refusing her. When we reached the school Grace hurried inside, while I left Duncan guarding the remains and went to tell Brody what was happening.

‘This should be interesting,’ he said, climbing out of the car.