AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Aye, if I can.’
‘Would you be honest with me?’
‘Ah dinnae know if you deserve that, but fire away.’
‘Was the Arianna being used to smuggle refugees?’
His eyes change colour, growing darker and then lighter again, while his mouth opens and closes as though he’s unclenching his jaw.
‘That’s a dangerous accusation. I hope you have proof to back it up.’
‘The wreck was never salvaged.’
‘It went down in deep water. These things happen. An investigation was carried out. No blame was placed on the crew.’
‘I talked to Finn. He blames himself.’
His eyes swim. ‘We have an old saying around these parts, Dr Haven. The sea takes the saver of life, instead of the saved. Do you know what that means?’
‘People sometimes die when they’re trying to help.’
‘Who are you trying to help?’
‘I’m just looking for the truth.’
A deep chuckle, low down, shaking his diaphragm. ‘Oh, that’s a dangerous beastie, the truth, a monster in the loch.’
9
Evie
I fall asleep watching the TV and wake to the sound of shouting in the street outside. I turn off the light and peer through the curtains, looking directly down onto the side gate of the guest house.
Two people are arguing in the pool of light beneath a lamppost. One of them is Addie. A man is standing over her. Older. Taller. He raises his hand, ready to strike her, but stops himself. Addie doesn’t flinch. If anything, she leans forward and lifts her chin, as though daring him.
I’m moving, out of the door and down the stairs. When I arrive at the gate, Addie and the man have gone. He is dragging her along the footpath by her arm, away from the guest house. He could be her father. A kidnapper. A rapist. He could be anyone.
I follow them for several blocks, sticking to the shadows between the lampposts. I have the flick-knife in my back pocket, the bulge hidden by my untucked shirt. I don’t know if I could use it, but I feel safer having a weapon. I try to call Cyrus. He doesn’t answer. He promised to keep his phone on.
I lose sight of Addie near the Waterfront Inn. It’s where she told me she worked in the kitchen. I pause outside, debating what to do. I don’t like going into crowded places, but I steel myself and push through the heavy glass door into a cloakroom. To my left is a lounge with a low ceiling and round tables where people are finishing meals. To the right is a larger space with a curved wooden bar with beer taps and a mirrored wall lined with shelves holding bottles of spirits.
‘Are you lost?’ asks the barman.
‘I’m looking for someone.’
‘A parent?’
‘I’m twenty-two.’ I take out my driver’s licence. He doesn’t bother to check the birth date. ‘I’ll have a rum and Coke.’
He scoops ice into a glass and pours a shot. I sit at a table, feeling self-conscious because men are looking at me like I’m a novelty or their next meal.
An old guy approaches, selling raffle tickets. He has a laminated photograph of the prize – a boat on a trailer.
‘It’s for the local youth club,’ he says, pronouncing it youf.
‘I don’t need a boat,’ I say.
‘Nobody needs a boat, but you could always sell it or give it away or donate it back to the club.’
