Wedidn't have to wait long for Chief Inspector Frasier to come see me. Heregarded me with grave apology, holding his cap over his chest in a respectful manner,as he asked Tom to please step out of the room. My ex-husband and best friendleft reluctantly, with a promise that he'd be right outside, and then, once thedoor was closed, the inspector took a seat by my side.
“Iwannaapologize profusely for notbein'more attentiveregardin'yersister's murder,” he began, laying his cap over his thighs. “I once held mydepartment on a pedestal of great prestige, but after the severity of thismistake, Iwillnaebedoin'so any longer.”
Ishook my head. “It isn't your—”
“Withall due respect, Miss Allan, itismy fault,” he said firmly. “Ishouldaelooked further into the case beforedismissin' it. Ishouldaeneverallowed it. That is my oversight, and it is because of that oversight thatInspectors Brodie and Finley felt they had to solve the case on their own. Iwill be sorry for that every day for the rest of my life.”
Realizingthat nothing I could say would heal the man's hurt, I simply nodded and keptquiet, waiting for him to reveal the things I needed to know.
“Whenwe found ye inCoilleFeannag,we thought ye were dead,” he said, his voice somber and gruff. “It looked likea massacre. But thankfully, ye were all alive,with theexception ofConstable Sharp. He was already dead.”
Inarrowed my eyes and asked, “But how?”
“Hewas stabbed in the back eighteen times,” the Chief Inspector statedmatter-of-factly.
“What?”
Hepursed his lips and looked off to study the honeycomb pattern in the beigeblanket laid over my legs. “Ah, I suppose yewouldnaeremember … Inspector Brodie attacked him, after Sharp had shot both you andInspector Finley. Brodie was beaten with an inch of his bloody life, but hefound in him the strength to get up and kill the fuckin' bastard.”
Reliefand gratitude forced the air from my lungs as I closed my eyes and held a handover my aching chest. Chief Inspector Frasier laid a hand over my arm andpatted gently in a cold attempt to comfort me, as the tears began to fall.
“Ishe … is he okay?” I whispered, keeping my eyes closed, unable to see the man'sreaction to the question.
“Hetook abeatin', and it'll take some time for him torecover, but … aye,” he replied. “He'll be fine, thank Christ. I just wish Icould say the same for Inspector Finley.”
“What?”I asked, turning to him. This time, with my eyes wide open.
Hesighed and shook his head. “Hedidnaemake it throughsurgery.”
Anotherdose of guilt met my persistent grief, as my heart broke for one of the twocourageous men who had come to my aid and saved my life. Finley had a family, awife, and children, and it was because of me that they would never see himagain. That was a jagged and bitter pill to swallow. Yet I couldn't ignore thegratitude that also swept over me, knowing that Grace's killer had been caughtand brought to justice. Even though it could never bring her back, and I wouldbe forever doomed to miss her, it was a small consolation to know that he couldnever hurt someone again. For that, I was extremely thankful, to both Alec and hisfriend, Brian Finley.
“Whereis Alec?” I asked the Chief Inspector, just as a nurse intruded on ourconversation with the request for blood.
Ioffered my arm to her, as the man said, “He's at home. He was released fromhospital last night.”
Now,with the investigation essentially over, it seemed that was also the case forour brief relationship. It felt wrong to ask if I could see him, assuming hewouldn't want to, but Iaskednonetheless. To myrelief, the Chief Inspector nodded profusely.
“Aye.He did say to give him a ring when ye were awake, and I have every intention todo so as soon as I leave.”
Then,I was told that I would need to give my statement about what had happened sinceI arrived in Scotland—a formality, he said, as it was nowveryobviousto him what had occurred. I agreed to do whatever it was theyneeded before I flew back home. Then, with one last apology, he left me alonein the strange, sterile room of medical equipment and nurses, and I settled into wait for a visit from the man who saved my life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ALEC
ConstableStirling Sharp had lived in a wee cottage to the east ofCoilleFeannagwith his pregnant wife, Shannon. Together,they shared a life that, on the surface, seemedfairly normalto the casual, wandering eye. But now, standing inside the kitchen where he hadmurdered Shannon two days ago, it occurred to me that there was nothingremotely normal about Stirling Sharp or his life.
“Areye okay to be here, Brodie?” Constable Abernathy asked, coming to stand besideme at the table covered in rotten food and mouse droppings.
“I'mfine,” I grunted with a nod, as I frisked my eyes around the room andreadjusted the mask over my mouth and nose.
Theputrid scent of feces, old food, and death slipped beneath the mask and into mynostrils, and I fought against the urge to gag and vomit. How any human beingcould live in such filth, I would neverunderstand.
“Areye sure?” He gestured toward the crutch I leaned on, and I nodded, resistingthe desire to smack him with it.
“IfIwasnaesure, Iwouldnaebe here.”
Henodded, before briefly running me through the events that had happened over thepast couple of days since that night in the woods.
