Avenge the Dead Read online

  Avenge the Dead

  JACKIE BALDWIN

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

  Copyright © Jackie Baldwin 2020

  Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

  Jackie Baldwin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008383916

  Ebook Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008383909

  Version: 2020-01-07

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Jackie Baldwin

  About the Publisher

  In memory of Maureen and Denis Thomson

  Prologue

  15th May 2005

  Colette flopped back on the pillows, the enormity of what she had just done creeping in around the edges of her intoxication. She could hear them laughing and joking, stumbling around the tiny cottage on drunken legs, as they gathered up their stuff before making their way back to the guest house. There was a light tap on the door.

  ‘Come in!’ she yelled, pulling up a sheet to cover herself.

  He stood framed in the doorway, looking at her with a concerned and slightly worried expression.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK? I can stay if you want, keep you company?’

  Her expression softened. As the effects of the alcohol started to wear off she suddenly felt a rush of blood to her head. What on earth had she been thinking? How would she face them all in court tomorrow? Her breath caught in her throat. She needed to be on her own. She heard his name being called. If she didn’t get rid of him the others would come clattering in and that was the last thing she wanted.

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine. Best if you head back with the others. I need to get some sleep. We’ve got court in the morning.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  He crossed the room on unsteady legs and leaned over to peck her cheek, swaying from side to side.

  ‘You’d better hurry,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘They’ll not wait for long.’

  The sound of slurred voices gradually receded down the country lane leaving her alone with her thoughts. Trying to pre-empt her inevitable hangover she padded down to the kitchen, knocked back some paracetamol and filled a pint glass with water. Now that the effects of the alcohol and ecstasy were wearing off her teeth began to chatter. Fortunately, the log fire lit without protest. She went back up for the duvet from her bed and dragged it down to the couch, huddling beneath it for warmth.

  It had been a long boring two weeks in Jedburgh with each of them acting for one accused from a drunken brawl that had resulted in multiple charges. The evidence had been so convoluted that the sheriff had decided to rule on it the next morning.

  Denied the freedom they had hoped for and with the trial effectively finished they had all decided to blow off steam. She had joined in with gusto taking them all by surprise, but already the night’s events were starting to disperse from her memory like wisps of smoke. She had been quite the free spirit before she moved to Dumfries and took up with Peter Swift, the fiscal depute. Realizing how conventional he was she had succeeded in subduing her wilder impulses. Until now. What if they talked and word got back to him? She shuddered. Too late for regrets. It was done. She’d been feeling more and more stifled by the relationship anyway. Maybe it was time to draw a line under it.

  The doorbell rang. She rolled her eyes. What now? Making her way to the door she flung it wide expecting to see her friends.

  Her eyes widened in horror as she was grabbed by the throat and pushed back into the house by the masked intruder. Terrified, she realized that he was holding a hunting knife. The tip pressed into her neck and she could feel the heat of it as it pierced her skin. Still, he said nothing.

  The knife pressed deeper. She felt an itch as the warm blood trickled down her neck. Adrenalin flooded her system as she weighed her options. He’d backed her into the lounge, still at knifepoint. His silence was, if anything, more unnerving than the knife pressed to her throat. He backed her up to the couch which was piled high with blankets and throws.

  Suddenly, the mound shifted.

  ‘Colette?’ a voice slurred. ‘What’s going on?’ The blankets slid off to reveal one of her friends, still drunk and with an expression of confusion and burgeoning fear on his face. He lurched to his feet.

  Colette sagged in rel
ief. Thank God, everything would be all right now. There were two of them.

  ‘Phone!’ hissed the man. ‘Or I’ll slit her throat and then yours. Leave now and keep your mouth shut or die here.’

  Colette saw her friend frown, swaying from side to side.

  She held her breath. All he had to do was lunge at her attacker, dial 999, anything! What was he waiting for? No! What was he doing?

  Hot tears wet her cheeks as she watched him throw down his phone.

  ‘Tell anyone and I’ll hunt you down and kill you,’ her attacker snarled.

  Unable to look her in the eye, the man she had called a friend ran past her. She heard the door slam.

  Maybe he’s gone to get help? she thought, her mind reeling at his betrayal. But Jedburgh was two miles away.

  It was down to her now. With a surge of rage she twisted and kneed her attacker in the groin. His grip loosened for a second, but then he roughly threw her on to the couch, pinning her down. All she could see were his pitiless blue eyes boring into her. Screaming obscenities, she clawed at the rough wool balaclava, determined to see his face. His fist connected with the side of her head, but she managed to pull the balaclava half off. She froze in shock.

  ‘You stupid bitch,’ he snarled. ‘Now, you have to die.’ The next punch he landed knocked her unconscious.

  ***

  She awoke confused and disoriented. All around her flames leapt and the acrid smell of smoke burned her lungs. The house was on fire! She had to get out! Throwing off the already smouldering duvet she crawled to the front door. The way to the kitchen was blocked by the advancing flames. As she stood up and fumbled with the handle she realized to her horror it was locked and there was no sign of the keys. She ran to the window and swung a nearby vase at it. The vase broke but the window didn’t.

  She knew then that she was doomed to die here in this fiery coffin. She remained at the window, her hands outstretched, peering into the night, not wanting to observe the march of the fire as it started to crawl up her body. Hope flared. There was someone out there. She could see a shadowy form silhouetted against the moonlight. She thumped her fist against the glass and screamed for help. Her friend must have come back. He could save her! He could break down the door, get her out. She beat harder, her hand aching, the heat almost unbearable now. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he moving? Could it be her attacker? She banged furiously, screaming in agony and terror as the flames curled up her body, releasing the meaty aroma of charred flesh.

  The shadowy shape melted silently back into the trees.

  The cottage continued to burn.

  Chapter 1

  15th May 2015

  Mhairi tapped lightly on DCI Buchanan’s open door in Dalgarnock police station. Over the last two years she had gradually acclimatized to living in Glasgow. She liked her new boss and had acquired more pairs of shoes than she knew what to do with.

  ‘Come in, DS McLeod. Sit yourself down.’

  DC Thomson was already there and she flashed him a warm smile. It looked like her boss was assembling a team for an investigation and she felt a fizz of excitement in her belly.

  Lorraine Buchanan was so tall and willowy that she made Mhairi feel like a garden gnome. Her hair was scraped back in a tight bun as usual and her make-up minimal. She had a forceful personality and could be intimidating but at least she was consistent. You always knew where you stood with her.

  ‘I asked DI Farrell to meet with us here,’ the DCI said with a frown. ‘Has either of you seen him?’

  Mhairi and DC Thomson glanced at each other. Mhairi could feel a telltale blush stain her cheeks. Dammit, she had been covering for Frank more and more recently. At this rate he was going to drag her down with him.

  ‘I’m sure he’s on his way,’ she said.

  DC Thomson nodded enthusiastically to back her up.

  ‘I see,’ said the DCI, tight-lipped. ‘Well, we can’t wait any longer. I trust you can bring DI Farrell up to speed, Sergeant?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Right, let’s get on with it. There’s been a murder in Dumfries. A woman in her early thirties, Gina Campbell, stabbed to death in her home.’

  Mhairi’s heart sank.

  ‘They’ve requested a Major Inquiry Team and I’m sending the three of you down. People are always criticizing the MIT teams for their lack of local knowledge. Given that the three of you hale from the area you’re an obvious choice.’

  Dave Thomson looked as gutted as she was.

  ‘Her husband discovered the body this morning.’

  ‘Sounds pretty straightforward. Can’t they handle it themselves?’ asked Mhairi.

  ‘The husband was covered in blood and his prints are on the knife … but he has an alibi,’ the DCI replied. ‘I take it I can rely on you to locate DI Farrell and get down there inside three hours?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Mhairi.

  ‘That will be all, DC Thomson. I have another matter I need to discuss with Sergeant McLeod.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ DC Thomson left the room.

  Mhairi stiffened and her mouth went dry. She had a fair idea what was coming.

  ‘Off the record, I need to know how Frank is. You’re a sergeant now and that means you have a responsibility, not just to your boss but to the police and the wider community as well.’

  ‘He’s been better,’ Mhairi said carefully. ‘He might be a touch erratic at times, but he’s still up to the job and I have every confidence in him.’

  ‘I know that he’s been through a lot. You all have. But that was nearly two years ago now. He needs to put it behind him and move forward. I take it there has been no change in DCI Lind’s condition?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate. A fine officer, by all accounts. Nonetheless, you’ve been covering for your boss for some time now and it can’t continue. I hope that in sending you back to Dumfries, DI Farrell can start to better come to terms with things. If he can’t … well you get my drift.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s all for now. Keep me in the loop,’ DCI Buchanan said as Mhairi rose to leave.

  ‘Will do, ma’am.’

  ***

  DC Thomson was waiting along the corridor.

  ‘Can you sort us out a couple of nights’ accommodation in Dumfries till we see how the land lies?’ Mhairi asked. ‘Farrell will stay with his mother. Try Ronnie Stirling. He runs a B&B with Vera now he’s retired from the force. Wherever it is, it’ll need to take pets as Frank and I will be bringing our cats.’

  ‘Blimey, you don’t exactly travel light, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t know when I got Oscar that with Police Scotland I’d have to hare all over the bloody country,’ she said, as she continued on her way.

  She tried Frank’s mobile but it went straight to voicemail. What the bloody hell was he playing at? Was he wanting to get the sack? It’s not as though he could even fall back on the priesthood. He hadn’t exactly been a model for clean, sober living, of late. They had to get down to Dumfries pronto. Suddenly, she knew with utter certainty where he’d be. Swearing under her breath, she took the stairs two at a time and left the building.

  Chapter 2

  Frank Farrell sat motionless beside his closest friend and former boss. John Lind lay unheeding and unresponsive in the hospital bed where he had lain since being injured in the line of duty. Not quite dead but not quite alive either. He had progressed from the initial coma to a minimally conscious state, but Farrell had long given up praying for him to sit up and talk. He could no more forgive himself for allowing this to happen than he could God. If he’d only managed to put the pieces of their last case together quicker, his friend wouldn’t have fallen foul of a depraved killer. Lind’s eyes either stared off into the distance or roamed haphazardly around the room, blank and unfeeling, as though no one was home. Farrell glanced up and noticed that the drawings the children had done for their dad in the first few months were now pe
eling and torn at the edges. There were no flowers and no cards. Laura hadn’t been to visit for months and had slammed the phone down on him the last time he had remonstrated with her. Even if John did by some miracle wake up again, what would he be coming back to? He suspected Laura had moved on and found another man. Why else would she have abandoned him? Like he always did, he enfolded his friend’s hand in his and squeezed gently, hoping against hope he would feel an answering pressure. Some sign of higher activity in his friend’s once acute brain. He never did.

  He looked round as the door behind him opened and a very irate Mhairi McLeod stalked in. Shit, he’d missed the meeting. He’d lost all sense of time sitting here ruminating on the past.

  ‘Mhairi, I’m sorry—’

  ‘Save it, Frank. I covered for you. Again.’

  He felt shame burn through him. Had he even showered this morning? It had certainly been a few days since he’d shaved. He couldn’t seem to motivate himself lately. Ever since he’d come to realize his friend really might never wake up.

  ‘There’s been a murder. In Dumfries,’ she said.

  He felt himself freeze. He couldn’t go back there. It was too much.

  ‘Frank,’ hissed Mhairi. ‘We need to get going. They’re expecting us by one o’clock.’

  ‘I can’t …’ he faltered.

  ‘You bloody have to. DCI Buchanan is going to fire your ass if you can’t pull it together. It’s my career on the line too, you know.’

  ‘How long will we be away?’

  ‘How the hell should I know? But I do know this: the quicker we get down there and solve this murder the quicker we’ll be back.’

  She grabbed his jacket and thrust it at him.

  Reluctantly he rose to his feet.

  Mhairi leaned over the bed and muttered something in Lind’s ear. She then squeezed his hand and straightened up.

  ‘Right, let’s get this show on the road.’ She turned on her heel and marched out.

  Farrell followed her with a last lingering look at his supine friend.

  Chapter 3

  Mhairi drove in tight-lipped silence back to the apartment block near the Velodrome where they both lived.

  ‘Meet you in the garage in an hour,’ she said as they left the car. ‘Time enough for you to have a shower and shave.’ She wrinkled her pert nose in case he hadn’t got the message, then continued past him on to the second floor.