Chapter 25
Earlier, Jo had watched from the window as her boss had crossed the car park to his vehicle.
She had been unnerved by his announcement that he planned to put DS Gowan out on the streets of Kirkwall on Saturday night. She’d tried so hard to put him out of her mind and out of her presence by escaping to Hoy, but she realized that wasn’t possible now.
Worse than that, she’d lied to her boss.
Right to his face. And she suspected he knew it.
Good detectives could smell a lie. Twice now, she’d said she’d never met DS Gus Gowan.
Once to Ivan Tulloch and now the boss. As for PC Tulloch, she’d modified her tale slightly by suggesting she might have heard DS Gowan’s name.
One lie always led to another. As a detective herself, she should have remembered that.
As for DS Gowan, he would no doubt make it plain that he knew DS Green. In fact, he knew her very well.
How is Jo? Oh, she’s on Hoy at the moment? That’s a shame. It would have been lovely to see her again.
God, that voice in her head was back. His voice in her head again, after she’d finally managed to get rid of it.
To take her mind off him, she decided to look at the images of Stella before she left, despite her trepidation at what she might see.
As the first picture appeared, she recalled how traumatized she’d been looking into the open grave and seeing the body of a mother seemingly gazing down at her child.
Then, the image had been as gruesome as the state of the remains.
Now, it had been transformed into something sad, but beautiful.
Stella, if it was her, was real, her blue eyes staring lovingly at her blue-eyed baby.
Jo felt her throat close and tears spark her eyes.
Shaking them away, she moved through the other images and finally on to the short video. It was a moving picture of a mother’s love for her child.
Would a killer have arranged them like that in the coffin? It seemed improbable and yet, in her first case here in Orkney, a killer had arranged their victim with loving care in a stone cist in Skaill Bay.
Erling had said the mother’s hyoid bone had been fractured, which may have happened by strangulation or by hanging.
Betty Corrigall, pregnant and deserted by her lover, had hanged herself.
Stella may have brought the baby back to Hoy to meet its father, only to discover that he wanted neither her nor his son.
Something Gus hadn’t been guilty of, a small voice reminded her.
At this point her thoughts moved to Rachael and she checked her mobile to see if her earlier call had been responded to. It hadn’t, which caused a niggling worry.
It struck her that the Rachael who had faced up to the Mowats that very morning was unlikely to have ignored her concerned message. So she tried again.
This time was different. This time she heard words that immediately worried her. ‘We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.’
Jo stared at the phone, a jumble of troubling thoughts filling her head.
Why would Rachael disconnect her phone? Had she been fearful of one of the Mowats trying to contact her after what had happened this morning?
But Erling had given the impression that, when he talked to Rachael afterwards, she’d been feeling positive and thinking, rather than just hoping, that Kris was alive and well and merely hiding from the Mowat family.
Outside the station now, she made a decision. She would head for Stromness and check on Rachael, just to be sure. She’d also explain about going to Hoy tomorrow, but that Rachael could still call her if she needed someone to talk to while they were waiting for the DNA tests to come back.
She headed to Stromness, wondering as she drove if she should let Erling know about the disconnected phone, eventually deciding only to call him if absolutely necessary.
She was aware that Rory, his partner, was due back for the weekend from Flotta, and this evening might be the only chance Erling would have to spend some time with him. Besides, he was probably with Auld Mackie at this very moment.
She muttered her hope that the old man would recognize Stella from the images Erling planned to show him. Which might help them on their way to uncovering the mystery of the mother and child the red digger had unearthed that fateful day on Hoy.
At this time of the evening it was easy to find a parking place close to the hotel. Heading up the steps to the entrance, she held on to the hope that Rachael was here and would agree to see her.
The receptionist recognized her straight away. ‘DS Green, are you looking for Ms Everett?’
‘I am. Is she in?’ Jo asked.
‘I haven’t seen her since early afternoon, when Sam’s taxi brought her back from Kirkwall. Shall I call her room for you?’
‘No need. I’ll just go up and knock on her door,’ Jo told her.
‘Right you are, then,’ she answered with a smile.
As Jo climbed the stairs, she wondered if the receptionist was aware of what had gone down that morning at the offices of Balfour Legal Services, and decided by her demeanour she probably was. Or at least had heard rumours of it.
Reaching Rachael’s room, Jo knocked on the door. ‘It’s DS Green here, Rachael. Can I have a word with you?’
She listened, awaiting a sound signalling Rachael’s presence in the room. When none came, she tried again. ‘Rachael, it’s me, Jo. Your mobile is disconnected, so I wanted to check you’re okay.’
With still no response, she tried the door and found it unlocked. Perhaps Rachael had just popped out and hadn’t bothered locking it. But out to where? And to do what? Get something to eat maybe? But if she’d left the hotel by the front entrance, surely the receptionist would have spotted her?
‘Rachael,’ she called again as she pushed the door fully open. ‘It’s Jo Green.’
Stepping inside, she found all was silent and definitely empty, since the door to the bathroom also stood open.
Her heart, which had started bumping as she’d climbed the stairs, now took off in earnest. The room wasn’t dishevelled in any way.
In fact, it looked much like it had done when she’d last been here.
Open suitcase on a stand. Toiletries laid out in the bathroom.
A pile of discarded clothes on the chair.
It looked like a room still occupied, but definitely without its guest.
Jo felt for her mobile and, pulling up Rachael’s number, tried it again. But, of course, the outcome remained the same. That robotic voice reciting the same message. Rachael’s mobile was no longer connected. Even if the mobile were in this room, it would not ring.
So where was Rachael? And why had she disconnected her mobile? To avoid any calls from Hugh Mowat?
While she considered this, another thought crept in. Perhaps Rachael wasn’t the one to disconnect her phone. And what if she hadn’t chosen to leave the room of her own free will?
Jo retreated into the corridor to check for another exit from the building. One that avoided passing through reception, thus explaining Rachael’s unobserved departure.
And there was one. A fire escape at the end of the corridor that led down to the car park at the rear of the building, from which Rachael, alone or accompanied, might have departed the hotel, and maybe even Stromness for that matter.
Jo found herself already conjuring up an image of Rachael leaving that way. Or being made to leave that way.
Heading out and on to the stairs, Jo made her way down, noting the security camera as she exited at ground level. After which she circled the building and re-entered by the front door, which caused some consternation on the part of the receptionist.
‘Ms Everett’s room is unlocked but empty,’ Jo told her. ‘Although her suitcase and belongings are still in there.’
The young woman looked puzzled. ‘I suppose she might have passed without my noticing her.’
‘I take it you have security cameras?’
‘We do,’ she said, concerned. ‘At the front entrance and at the rear of the building.’
‘Good,’ Jo said. ‘I’d like to take a look at today’s footage.’