Hunting the Reaper: A DCI Alasdair Scottish Detective Mystery by Duncan Wallace

Author:Duncan Wallace [Wallace, Duncan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Mr. McTavish,” I called out as we ran across the field.

He watched us charge towards him, but he didn’t try to run. In fact, he looked a bit baffled but not at all alarmed.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked. “And why are you here?”

“Why aren’t you on the farm?” Elspeth demanded. “We thought you had jobs to do that would take all day?”

She was seething as she always was when she found out someone had lied to her. Her scowl was so intense that even the fiercest of men had crumbled before her.

“I’m putting Betsy in her stable,” he replied. “It’s supposed to rain tonight, so I rode her down here.”

“When?” she panted.

“When’s it gonna rain or when did I get here?” he asked.

“When did you get here?” she huffed.

“As soon as you left?” he answered in a confused tone. “I literally took her out of the field while you were still walking back to your car. Why? What’s the matter?”

Elspeth looked at me and raised her eyebrows. He didn’t seem particularly guilty over anything and was giving us no signs that he had just murdered his father.

“We have some news,” I said.

“You found what happened to my Mam?” he asked in a hesitant tone. “Is it the same person who took the girls?”

“That’s not what we have to tell you, I’m afraid,” I said. “Have you got anywhere to sit down?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded.

He led the horse to a nearby stable. It was only a wooden thing, nothing fancy, but a small wooden plaque by the stable door bore Betsy’s name. He pulled her in by the reins, took off the hay net, fluffed up the hay pile with his hand, and finally sat down. I closed the bottom stable door behind me to make sure the horse didn’t escape, but then it dawned on me that we were trapped in the stall with a possible killer and a large horse.

“Police work, aye,” I muttered to Elspeth while Doug got comfortable.

“So, what is it, then?” he asked as he looked between us.

“Your father has…” Elspeth started and then stopped. “Mr. McTavish, your father…”

“Your Dad has passed away,” I finished for her.

He stared at us for a few moments, and even smiled briefly as if he thought we were trying to prank him. “What are you talking about?” he finally demanded. “Da’s fine.”

“We went to the farm,” I continued, “just to confirm some information. when we got there, we found your father. Unfortunately, he had passed away.”

He looked stunned for a moment, and then first tears started to fall. He shook his head, and I saw his hand bunch into a fist.

“How?” he snapped. “No, you’re lying.”

“I wish we were,” I replied.

The boy got up and started pacing back and forth, a difficult feat in the small space that was mostly filled with a horse. But he managed to avoid Betsy as he stalked a few steps in each direction, and he clutched at his curls as he tried to make sense of what we’d told him.

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