Free The Crow Trap by Ann Cleeves Page B

grass and of small mammals. A hare froze, dazzled by the beam of the torch. There was no human sound, no echoing flicker of torchlight. Thick clouds had covered the moon and if it hadn’t been for the water noise she would have lost her bearings completely. It would be impossible to search the area properly, even if Anne were prepared to help.
    When she returned to Baikie’s Anne was on her second glass of wine.
    She’d torn a chunk from a French loaf and was eating it hungrily to make a point. Her stockinged feet were stretched onto the hearth. “You realize she’s doing this on purpose,” she said. “To get at me, because I said I’d cook. Well, I’ll not wait much longer. I’m starving.”
    “It’s pitch black out there now.” Rachael couldn’t keep still. She moved from the window to the kitchen door, listening, peering into the darkness.
    “Don’t panic, for Christ’s sake. She’s not that late. I bet you wouldn’t worry about me. She’s not a kid, you know. She’s older than she looks. Nearly twenty-eight.”
    For a moment Rachael was distracted. “How do you know?”
    “She’d left her passport on the dressing table upstairs. So I looked.”
    Anticipating Rachael’s disapproval she added, “Well, I was curious.
    Aren’t you? We don’t know anything about her except she seems a bloody miracle worker when it comes to finding otters. If you accept her results.”
    At ten o’clock Rachael went to Black Law to phone Peter Kemp.
    “I didn’t know you had the keys,” Anne said.
    “Dougie gave me a set after the funeral. In case of an emergency.”
    She reached Peter on his mobile. He seemed to be in a busy restaurant.
    There were shrill women’s voices, the clatter of plates. At least he took the call seriously. She had been afraid he would laugh at her concern.
    “Just a minute,” he said. “I’ll phone you back from somewhere quieter.”
    Five minutes later the phone rang, sounding very loud in the empty house. He was brisk, assertive. He had been in touch with the mountain rescue team though he didn’t think they’d do much before first light. It wasn’t as if Grace had been anywhere dangerous. Not like rock-climbing or pot-holing.
    “She wasn’t a reckless type, was she?” “No,” Rachael said. “I wouldn’t have thought so.” He said it was a mild night and even if there’d been an accident she’d survive until morning, but anyway the team would soon be on its way. It was up to them to decide how to play it. A clue to his promptness came at the end of the conversation.
    “The Health and Safety won’t be able to get us on this, will they? All the procedures were in order?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Well then, we should be able to face it out. Whatever happens.”
    What happened was that six burly men turned up in a Land Rover. They were good-looking in a rugged, muscle-bound way. Anne, who had eaten a plate of casserole, finished the wine and gone to bed, would be sorry to have missed them, Rachael thought. One of the team was the doctor who had pronounced Bella dead and taken Dougie away.
    “You’re having a dramatic time of it,” he said, as if he envied her.
    Perhaps that was what being a GP was about for him. It entitled him to star in his own action movie.
    They went out onto the hill just before dawn. With such a detailed record of Grace’s movements they said they would easily find her. Even if she’d strayed away from her planned route there’d be no problem. The doctor carried a folded stretcher which poked out of the top of his rucksack.
    Rachael watched them from her bedroom window. They didn’t invite her to go with them and she didn’t like to suggest it. The cloud was still thick and low, with a drizzle, so they soon disappeared. She must have dozed, although she was sitting upright in a chair, because she was suddenly aware of their return. She looked at her watch. They’d been gone for two hours. There were four of them, walking in single