Holy Island(3)

He led her through the little passageway to the sitting room with its cosy fireplace and worn leather sofa. He wished he had lit a fire. He had another moment’s regret that he hadn’t cleaned up the remnants of last night’s bottle and a half of red wine, but by the look on the woman’s face she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. The dog sloped in after them, unwilling to leave her.

“Now,” he eased her onto the sofa. “What’s happened? Have you hurt yourself?”

“No, not me!” her face was anguished. “It’s Lucy - she’s lying up there in the Priory.”

He watched as fat tears began to run down her cheeks and a sick feeling rolled in his gut.

“What happened to Lucy?” His voice was flat.

“I don’t know, but she’s dead.” Her voice was hollow and hitched with deep, ragged breaths. “I used to babysit her when she was little. Her mother...oh God, Helen, how will I tell her?” Her eyes closed and when they opened again they were dark with grief. “She was just a baby. She was still just a baby.” She began to weep, deep, heart-wrenching sobs which shuddered through her small frame.

Ryan’s chest constricted. It seemed that, no matter what the department ordered, death followed him wherever he went.

“Are you sure?”

She managed a sharp nod. “She was gone.”

He believed her.

“Wait here,” he murmured, then moved quickly to the telephone in the hallway, looked up the number of the local coastguard and put the call through. There was no police force stationed on the island.

“Alex?” the phone answered after a couple of rings and he knew the coastguard would have been up for an hour already on his present shift.

“Yeah?” The voice with its musical Northern lilt was friendly. “Got an emergency?”

“I need you to secure an area up at the Priory. No access to the general public, to anybody other than me at this point. ”

“What? Look, you can’t - ”

“There’s a girl lying dead up there.”

There was a humming silence at the end of the line before Alex’s voice came through again in hushed tones.

“Are you sure?”

Ryan thought of the woman in the room beyond. There was always hope that Liz had been wrong.

“Get hold of the local doctor and tell him to meet us at the entrance to the Priory. We’ll find out for sure.” He couldn’t let the whole neighbourhood start helping themselves to a glimpse of the crime scene. “Nobody goes past the entrance, in or out, without my knowledge. Bring tape to cordon off the area and something to put over your feet and clothes – overalls if you have them.”

Ryan paused to open the front door, sniffed at the air. “Bring some tarpaulin or plastic sheets too, it looks like rain. I’ll meet you up there as soon as I can. Contact the police on the mainland. Ask the control room to refer it to Gregson and tell them to get a team over here.”

Alex let out a long breath before answering. “My father’s the doctor on the island, so I’ll get in touch with him now. It’s going to be another hour before the road will be clear for the police to cross, though. Ah, Ryan, are you going to…” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Look, I’ve never done anything like this before.” The coastguard on Lindisfarne held a special dispensation to act as an initial response team in case of emergencies, but so far that had involved breaking up a couple of half-hearted pub brawls and a squabble between two tourists about who had backed into the other’s SUV. Murder definitely broke new ground.

“I’ll walk you through it. Five minutes, Alex, ten max.”

He replaced the receiver and moved back into the sitting room, pausing in the doorway for a moment. Liz sat huddled, seeming older and more fragile than before. Her face was pale, her eyes too dark and her hands still shaking.

“Liz,” he said gently and watched her body jerk. “Is there somebody I can call? Can I get you something, a glass of water maybe?”

“I need Sean.” She recited the number.

He called her husband and explained the situation. The immediate concern in the other man’s voice told Ryan that he would not have to wait long before there was another knock on the door. It was good that she had somebody.

Ryan spent a few minutes taking down a brief statement, snatches of information from Liz before she broke down completely. Her husband arrived soon after and as Ryan watched them leave, he thought about how Liz’s first instinct had been to run to him rather than to the husband she loved. Mouth grim, he grabbed his phone and the field kit he kept in the hallway cupboard.