The dog trotted obediently beside her. The road was a dead end, of course, and they met no traffic whatsoever. The only sign of life was a couple of boats out in the loch and once a low-flying jet, travelling faster than sound so she had the peculiar experience of seeing it before she heard it. Up in the sky she saw the buzzard circling and, down on the shore, fast-darting small brown birds that skimmed the grey rocks. They walked past Big Jim’s drinking retreat in the boulders on the beach, then the path that led up to the loch, then the forestry road that she’d run up earlier that day.
As they strolled along, she lost herself in pleasurable fantasies about life with McCleod. She could transfer to Glasgow, Hanlon would leave the force, maybe make a living doing personal training or security. They could live together somewhere in the city, away from the prying eyes on Jura. McCleod made her laugh, wasn’t intimidated by her, and she loved the way that the other woman lay by her side with one arm thrown over her, fiercely clinging onto her, as if terrified of losing her. It was nice to be needed.
The tarmac road petered out and became a rough track made of impacted stone. Hanlon rounded a bend and now she could see the stretch of water between the tip of Jura and the island of Scarba, the Gulf of Corryvreckan, where Big Jim had tried to drown her the other day.
She stopped and patted the dog. She looked across to where she knew the whirlpool was. She had survived that; she had survived Leo. She felt a sudden surge of invincibility.
Now she could see the roof of Morag’s house.
She walked along the track up to the gate in the dry stone wall and then she saw the Mitsubishi Barbarian.
She sighed; she’d have to make conversation after all. She opened the gate and went in. She walked round the house. She had noticed that Morag didn’t use the front room; it was kept for best. She knocked on the back door and she saw the forestry woman get up from the chair in the kitchen by the stove and open it. She noticed Morag start slightly at the sight of Hanlon’s swollen eye, but she was too tactful to say anything.
‘I was wondering if I’d see you again,’ said Morag pleasantly. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Can the dog come in?’
‘Of course he can, Bridie won’t mind. Don’t worry about your boots.’
Hanlon handed her the clothes and wellingtons. ‘Here’s your stuff, thank you.’
‘Thank you for bringing them back,’ said Morag. She looked tired and unhappy as she ushered Hanlon into the untidy kitchen. Morag indicated a chair and she sat down.
‘Look, Morag,’ Hanlon said, ‘I’m sorry I left so suddenly.’ She decided to come out with what had happened. ‘My kayak did sink, but not by itself. Big Jim tried to kill me out on the loch.’ Morag simply nodded; she didn’t look remotely surprised. ‘I swam to shore and when I saw your pick-up truck, well, I’d seen it before. I panicked.’
Morag handed her a cup of tea; she took it.
‘At one of Big Jim’s parties, I take it,’ Morag said bitterly. ‘You were right to be worried if you thought I was a pal of Big Jim’s – that man was scum.’
‘You’re telling me!’ said Hanlon. She described what had happened out by the Corryvreckan. Morag nodded.
‘Thank God he’s gone.’ She sighed. ‘Well, here’s my Big Jim story.’ She picked up her mug of tea and clutched it tightly, her eyes unfocussed, looking into the past. ‘Two years ago I was at a party at the Mackinnon Arms. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I knew it was a kind of swingers’ party, but, well… I don’t know, things had been happening, I was in a bad space, I thought it might be exciting. I got drunk, more than drunk – I think Big Jim spiked my drink. I woke up the next morning in his bed.’
‘Bastard,’ said Hanlon.
‘Oh, but it gets worse,’ Morag said, ‘much worse.’ She stood up, put down her tea, walked over to a cabinet and got out a bottle of the Famous Grouse. ‘I need a drink, want one?’
‘No, thanks.’
Morag poured three fingers of neat Scotch. She looked at it and then shook her head.
‘Dammit, I’ve got to drive into Craighouse soon…’ She put the glass back in the cupboard with the bottle and turned to Hanlon.
‘It wasn’t just him, there was another man too. I… they… well, it was disgusting and someone, probably Harriet, had filmed it. Basically, Big Jim threatened to upload it to the net unless I came along to his parties every now and again.’
‘I’m not sure he could have done that. Upload it. Legally, I mean, as well as content-wise…’
Morag shrugged.
‘Exactly, you’re not sure. Who knows how these things work? Not me, that’s for sure. Besides, illegality wouldn’t have stopped him. He could certainly have texted explicit images of me to everyone he knew, that much is certain. I’ve got two kids at uni – do they want to see their mother doing God alone knows what? Especially with him…’ There were tears now.
‘Well, now it’s over. I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish he’d suffered a bit more.’
‘Morag, where were you when Big Jim died?’ asked Hanlon, suddenly suspicious.
Morag laughed and shook her head. ‘Up in the hills, working. I didn’t have anything to do with it. But I will tell you, I was very pleased to hear his head
