S Bolton - Sacrifice

'I knew that if we moved up here we could adopt. A newborn. Maybe more than one.'

'Those tests. Your sperm tests. They were all normal. How did you do it?'

'Oh Christ, is it really important?'

'Yes, it's important. How?'

'It was just a matter of timing. Desogestrel wears off pretty quickly if you stop taking it. When I knew I had a sperm count, I just avoided going near you when you were ovulating.'

He moved closer, sat down on the bed next to me.

'Women can love adopted babies. The maternal bond doesn't rely upon a blood link. Neither does the paternal one.'

'Oh, because you and your folks are just so close.'

He shook his head. 'Not a good example. I know a lot of adoptees. They're adored, precious children. They bring huge happiness.'

'You still don't get it, do you? It wasn't just any baby, it was your baby. A little boy with dark-blue eyes and long limbs and hair that will never lie flat, no matter how much I comb it. I used to talk to that baby, tell him stories about his parents, his cousins, what we would all do together when he was born. He even had a name.' There was a lot more I needed to say but it just wasn't possible.

'What was his name?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'It matters. What was his name?'

'Duncaroony,' I managed.

For a moment I thought Duncan was laughing. Then I realized he wasn't. We sat together, side by side, as the night got darker.

THE NEXT DAY I WENT TO WORK. BEFORE LEAVING THE night before, Kenn had asked me to come in if I felt up to it, my suspension having expired with the knowledge that the hospital was in the clear. I was still smarting from the indignity of it all but, when it came down to it, I didn't have anything I'd rather do that morning.

Some time in the night, Duncan and I had declared a truce. There remained a lot of unfinished business but neither of us had the energy to resume hostilities just yet. We were having some time out.

As to the future, I wasn't sure. Duncan had told me that the fight I'd overheard on Unst had been about his desire to leave Shetland, that Elspeth had been referring to me when she'd said he was in love. He'd declared that no power on earth would make him leave me. The jury was still out, though, on whether I was staying – with him, in the job, on the islands; I didn't know. I was taking it one day at a time. Because, in spite of all the lies, in spite of everything he'd kept from me, I still loved him.

I did the ward-round, ignoring the curious looks I was getting from the staff. When I'd been forced to admit (but only to myself) that the unit had been functioning perfectly well without me, I went upstairs to prepare for afternoon clinic.

I phoned my friend in Voe and learned that Charles and Henry were fine. I thanked her for taking care of them and fielded her few curious questions as to how and why they were there. I made arrangements to collect them that evening.

I wondered about what was happening at home. As Duncan and I were leaving that morning, the police had arrived in force. As Helen had promised, they were carrying out another sweep of our fields but I no longer believed they'd find anything. Maybe one day I'd have another look at the islands' female mortality statistics, get someone else's opinion. One day at a time. But there was one thing I really had to do that day. I picked up the phone, dialled a London number and asked to be put through to a woman I'd worked with at my last hospital; the consultant anaesthetist.

'Diane?' I said when we were finally connected. 'It's Tora.'

'My goodness, stranger, how are you?'

Well, there was no truthful short answer to that so I gave the usual lie. 'Fine. You?'

'Great. Will we see you in September?'

'Of course, we're looking forward to it,' I said, having not thought about it in weeks. A wedding in a picture-book Buckinghamshire village; I'd forgotten that normal life was still going on, somewhere out there. 'Look, I'm sorry about this, but I need some information and I don't have much time. Is that OK?'

'Fire away.'

'What do you know about untraceable drugs?'

Diane wasn't easily fazed. She paused only a second before replying. 'Well, ultimately, there aren't any. If you know what to look for, you can find anything.'

'Thought so. But if you were trying to knock someone out, not necessarily kill them, just incapacitate them, just for a short while, is there anything you could use that a pathologist wouldn't normally test for?'

'Has Duncan been playing you up again?' There was an edge to her voice now but I could hardly blame her. It wasn't exactly a run- of-the-mill question.

'I'm sorry, I wish I had time to explain. I'll call you soon, I promise. Can you think of anything? Something unusual, that they wouldn't test for unless they were specifically asked.'

'Well, I'd need to check, but I'm pretty certain they don't routinely check for things like Benzodiazepines – you know, Nitrazepam or Temazepam. Does that help?'

'Yes, it does. I promise I'm not planning anything illegal.'

'I believe you. Oh, by the way, I got the dress.'

She named a hideously expensive London bridal designer and wittered away happily for a few more minutes. I was happy to let her, but I wasn't really listening.

Dunn might be a dab hand with the old hypnosis, but it still didn't seem likely that someone as sensible and smart as Dana could be hypnotized into killing herself. Hypnotized for long enough to allow herself to be drugged, maybe. Once unconscious, it would be a relatively simple matter to carry her to the bath and cut through both wrists, probably using her own hands to do it. If Stephen Renney hadn't found anything in Dana's system, it was because he hadn't known what to look for. I wasn't going to accept what Gifford had said last night. Dana was not going to her grave a suicide; not if I had anything to do with it.

'Hey!'

I looked up. 'Hey yourself!'

Helen stood in the doorway. She was wearing the same suit as last night but had changed her blouse for a ruby-red one. She still looked great. I wondered if Dana had taken her shopping, supervised her wardrobe. Or maybe it had been the other way round. Maybe Dana owed her sense of style to this lady. I'd probably never know. I felt a pang of regret that I'd never be able to know them as a couple.

She came in. I realized I was ridiculously pleased to see her.

'Coffee?' I offered. She nodded and I got up to pour it out. We sat together for a while.

'Are you OK?' she asked, and from the way she was looking at me, just a little too intently, I started to think that she might have something to tell me.

'I'm fine,' I said, stalling for time, because I wasn't sure I wanted to hear whatever it was. 'Better than fine, actually. Duncan and I sorted a few things out and here I am, back at work.'

'Things that seemed impossible just twenty-four hours ago?'

I nodded. 'Is Duncan… I mean…'

'Is he in the clear? I think so. His story about being a shareholder checks out and he doesn't seem to have set foot on Tronal for years. The Franklin Stone and Mr Gifford seem out of it as well. You heard about Dunn, I take it.'

'I did. Is that bad?'

'Bad as it gets. When a copper's your villain, there's no happy ending.'

'Is he still missing?'

She finished her coffee and got up to pour a refill. 'Yep. He was seen catching a ferry to the mainland on Tuesday evening. We've alerted all the air and ferry ports but…'

'Could be well away by now?'

She nodded. 'Right, the good news is, your fields have been thoroughly swept this morning. You won't be uncovering any more nasty surprises should you decide to plant a few spring bulbs.'

'And it was all properly done? The instruments were switched on and everything?' Well, I had to ask.