S Bolton - Sacrifice

Was it really going to be that simple?

'Can I do that? Can a member of the public just come along and search the records?'

Absolutely. We normally charge £10 for an hour's search but I'm sure in your case we could…' She left the offer hanging.

'Do I need to make an appointment?

'No, just come along. Our hours are 10 a.m. till 1 p.m. and then 2 p.m. until 4 p.m.'

I glanced at the clock. The vet was due any second and I had nothing planned for the rest of the day that couldn't wait.

I knew I should hand the ring over to DS Tulloch and let her get on with it.

'Thank you,' I said. 'I'll be along this afternoon.'

Two hours later I arrived at the register office in Lerwick. The vet had been and gone. Charles was going to be fine: lame for a few days, but then good as new. The news had softened, a little, my fury with Gifford. He might have given my fragile professional confidence a kicking but at least he'd saved my horse.

Before leaving home I'd phoned DS Tulloch and left a brief message on her voicemail, telling her I'd found something that might be connected to the murder and that I'd drop it by the station on my way into town. I hadn't been specific. I'd put the ring in a sterile bag and enclosed it, with a brief note, inside a large brown envelope. When I'd arrived at the station, Dana was still out so I left it, marked for her attention, at the front desk. I felt like I'd just lit the blue touch-paper on a firework and needed to stand well back.

Marion, the woman I'd spoken to on the phone, led me to a computer screen. I checked my watch. Twelve-thirty. I had half an hour before the office closed for lunch. Taking a folded Post-it note out of my bag I double-checked the date I'd noted before handing the ring in: 4.5.02, 4 May 2002. I found the right year and scrolled down until I came to the May weddings. It was a popular month for tying the knot. There had been four Saturdays in that particular May and several weddings on each; also a few mid-week ceremonies. Twenty-two weddings in all. I scanned down the list until I found the fourth of the month and immediately spotted a definite possibility. Kyle Griffiths married Janet Hammond at St Margaret's Church. I scribbled down all the details before checking the rest of the list. Nothing else.

'Found anything?'

I jumped before I could help it, then took a deep breath and told myself that I was not going to look guilty, apologize or ramble on mindlessly. I turned round.

Dana Tulloch, as usual, was immaculately dressed, in black trousers, simple red top and an obviously expensive black, red and white plaid jacket. I found myself wondering how she managed to be so well dressed on a police sergeant's salary.

'You look nice,' I said, without thinking.

She gave me a surprised look and pulled up a chair beside me. I showed her my scribble. She nodded.

'I'll get it checked,' she said. 'Anything else?'

I shook my head. She reached into her bag and pulled out the clear plastic wallet I'd left at the station earlier. The ring gleamed inside it. My note had been removed.

'When did you find it?' she asked, looking at the ring, not at me.

'This morning,' I said. 'Late morning.'

She nodded. 'How sure can you be that it came out of the same patch of ground?'

'I can't,' I said. 'But I'm pretty certain I haven't worn those Wellingtons since Sunday.'

'They should have been given to the SSU.'

I couldn't remember what the SSU was, but I knew I was in trouble.

'Slipped my mind,' I said truthfully. 'I was traumatized.'

'You washed it,' she said, in an I-really-do-give-up sort of voice.

'Didn't wash the Wellington,' I offered.

She shook her head. 'It's all far from ideal.'

Behind her, Marion was making herself conspicuous. She wanted to close for lunch. I lowered my voice. 'I'm sure the woman missing her heart would agree with you.'

Dana sighed and leaned back in her chair. 'You really shouldn't be here.'

I looked her straight in the eye. 'What can I say? I dug her up. I have an interest.'

'I know. But you should let us do our job.' She broke eye contact, looked down at her nails. Of course, they were perfect. Then she stood up. 'I spoke to your father-in-law,' she went on. 'He said the book I had was as good an authority as I was going to get. He was sorry he couldn't be more help.'

I stood too. 'There are eight more registration districts on the southern part of the mainland,' I said.

She looked at me. 'And?'

'I have no plans for the rest of the day'

She shook her head. 'It's not a good idea.'

Something not quite resolved in her voice told me the argument wasn't over yet. I showed her the page I'd torn out of the phone book.

'From here, I'm going to Walls, then to Tingwall. I expect to be done by about five and I'll probably be in the mood for a drink in the Douglas Arms. Tomorrow I'm back at work and no longer available to act as your unpaid personal assistant. If I were you, I'd make the most of it.'

I walked out of the offices, wondering if she'd try to stop me, not sure if she even could and feeling rather spitefully pleased at doing something of which I knew the police and my boss – especially my boss – would disapprove.

By five fifteen I was back in Lerwick. I walked into the dim interior of the Douglas Arms and spotted Dana sitting alone at a table in one of the darker corners, gazing at the screen of her notebook computer. I bought myself a drink and sat down beside her.

'Come here often?' I asked.

She looked up and frowned. 'Anything?' she said, looking seriously pissed off. Just when I'd thought the ice queen was melting.

I opened my notebook. 'Two more possibilities,' I said. 'A Kirsten Georgeson, aged twenty-six, married a Joss Hawick at St Magnus's Church in Lerwick. Also, a Karl Gewons married Julie Howard, aged twenty-five. Registry-office wedding. Both women are the right age.'

Without asking, she ripped out the page.

'How about you?' I asked.

'Three districts, no matches,' she said. 'And I checked out the one you found earlier. Janet Hammond is divorced, living in Aberdeen and very much alive.'

'Well, good for her.'

'Quite. I think this may have been a waste of time.'

'Why?'

She wiggled the mouse around on the table and a new screen appeared: the list of births on the islands I'd given her three days earlier. 'The team have almost finished checking this,' she said.

I leaned closer; the screen was absurdly tiny and, if not at the right angle, pretty much unreadable. 'Yeah,' I prompted.

'The ones in the right age and ethnic groups are almost all accounted for. It looks as though she wasn't a local woman, after all.'

I thought about that for a moment. 'That throws it wide open.'

'Oh yes.'

I now understood why she looked annoyed. Her boss was about to be proved right and she wrong.

There was a rush of cold air as the door opened and a group of men from one of the rigs came in. Noise levels in the pub leaped up. One or two of them glanced towards us and I looked away quickly; Dana hadn't even noticed them.

'What do you know about Tronal?' she asked.

I had to think for a second. According to my list, several babies had been born on Tronal during 2005. I'd made a mental note to ask Gifford about it.

'An island,' I said. 'Four women on the list gave birth there.'

Dana nodded. 'Two of whom we haven't been able to trace yet. So yesterday, DI Dunn and I took a trip. It's about half a mile off the coast of Unst. Privately owned. They sent a boat to meet us.'

'Is there a medical centre there?' I asked.

'There's a state-of-the-art private maternity hospital, run by a charitable trust, with links to the local adoption agency,' said Dana, appearing to enjoy the look of amazement on my face. 'They offer, and I'm quoting now, a "sensitive solution to unfortunate and ill- timed pregnancies".'