Hunt Hunted, Murder Murdered

'Marie?'

'Marie?'

Aid was alone in the dark again. He walked towards the village again, then started to jog and, despite his large frame, moved into a more vigorous run as he spied the car in front of the house with the green door.

The old man was at the green framed window of his home as Aid approached and made towards the door. He unlocked it quickly this time without question.

'Can a help ye son?'

'Sorry to bother you again', Aid panted, ' What about a Watters family? Do you know if a Watters family have a holiday home round here?'

'Watters? No. No Watters, but there are plenty of holiday homes across the hills and I couldnae tell ye the names of all the owners. Sorry son.' Aid took some deep breaths as his heart pounded through his chest. His lack of fitness showed. Thinking. Thinking.

'What about..... a wind farm?'

---

Spiv sat motionless on the chair as Bob came around.

The window behind Spiv’s head had turned from grey to black in the time he had been out cold. Spiv groaned. Thank god he wasn't dead, but they were still in a shit situation, and at this moment in time Bob had few ideas as to how this would be successfully resolved.

Still groggy, Bob made to move before realising his hands, arms, body and legs had been taped to the armchair he sat in. He couldn't use his mouth to get him out of this one. He didn't know if he still had his phone in his pocket. There was no noise, except the pulsing in his ears and the throbbing of his blood through bruised veins in his forehead ringing through the silence of this barely lit living room. And only one question remained in his head.

Where was Pam Watters?

---

Marie just stared at each page as she flicked through the diary, not really taking in what she was reading anymore. Mon tore along the City Bypass and not even the car's own warnings that the speed was excessive flinched her anymore. Marie read the excerpts again.

Simon and Pamela Deuchar.

Pamela Alice Deuchar.

Mrs P.A Deuchar.

Mr S and Mrs P.A. Deuchar.

A schoolgirl’s scribblings......

Then there were her entries. It felt wrong to read, but they needed to know what was going on.

August 30^th 2007

Simon and I shared a 'moment' in the bar. He was sitting with some slapper and I casually asked her to leave. Slag. I positioned myself around him on the barstool and gripped him in full view of the little cow. She turned and fled. My man! Just mine.

Si has been strange recently. I think it's because of Dev. Maybe the whole thing was a mistake. But we are still together and I guess that's what's important. He loves me. No-one else. No schoolgirl will take my man.

Poor Dev, though. Still, if it came down to him or me, would I change anything? Exactly.

Si's taking me out tomorrow. Nice meal at Foggia’s then some rampant sex. It's kinda routine, but it's just great spending time with him. He's the one. The only one.

November 5th.

Bonfire night. I feel weird. I haven't seen Si today, and he's not answering his phone.

November 6th.

All good. Went to Simons mum's at 11 last night. She let me in and we had a nice chat, she isn't too attached to Si, so she can stay. For now. Si turned up at 2. He was all kisses and stories. He is so gentle with me. He is getting over Dev and his Dad's deaths I think. Makes me think it's all going to work out fine. He says he needs me. I feel so good. I want to be the only thing he needs. He is soooooo sexy.

November 30th.

That’s 2 years Simon and I have been together. I think he forgot until I said, but he bought me flowers and we went out. I was thinking about my folks today. I think Simon would have grown on them. But I guess I don't need to worry about that now. I do miss them sometimes. But again, what do you choose? I couldn't let them be my guardians forever could I?

Another page another implicit statement. Another clue. Another question that raised more concern. Pamela Watters was Pamela Watters, but it appeared the Law student was on the wrong side of the law. Christ, she was on the wrong side of the wall to the prison for the criminally insane!

January 28^th 2008

It’s over. Simon and I can’t stay here. Not with all this. We are going to try and get away together. That’s what he wants. He only wants to be with me. He tells me this. We will be together and then we will go together. We will be eternally together.

Mon took the Biggar road and the police siren sounded as she failed to observe the roundabout, taking the 180 degree crossing instead of the curved approach. It would not have been difficult for a dozing copper to spot her since the national speed limit had been broken – and then some.

9

Aid turned up towards the house which stood off to the right. The curtains were open and firelight flickered. Another gate to open, Aid decided to take the pedestrian gate, nearly falling through the cattle grid, before regaining his footing with only a minor nick to his right ankle. He stood about 100 yards away but felt an impending nervousness about this meeting. There was Marie’s car. There was Spiv’s car. No sign of any other vehicle, so maybe it was just going to be the three of them discussing the revelations brought about by Ian Ingram’s letters. He hoped Spiv wouldn't take it badly that Pam appeared to be involved in the death of Dev Coulding.

His feet crunched lightly on the farm track pebbles - the only thing to break the silence of the cold dark, night. The land would have been empty of people for so many years, Bothies had appeared and disappeared over centuries. Some had been demolished, new ones had been built. The house he approached was a newer build, with wooden frame and plasterboard - and damp. He walked past the car Bob brought down to this place. Maries yellow beemer. Light frost was appearing on the windscreen. It was luminous on such a darkening day. He peered in. The keys were still in the ignition. ‘I don't suppose there are many folk to steal vehicles in these parts’, he thought.

The front door of the house stood ajar.

Aid paused. He would have called out, but he did not feel comfortable. Something wasn't right. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

‘Devalue life I am the start

Could it begins, and ending’

The words reflected the night.

Cold.

And in these conditions no-one, but no-one, would leave a front door standing ajar.

The firelight flickered across the track in front of the house. Aid walked slowly and deliberately. Precise movements to minimise impact. Minimise sound. His breathing slowed and halted at times. Listening. Looking for signs. His heart thumped again. Nothing to do with fitness this time.