Page 103 of The High Island

The door stood open as before, but when she announced her arrival, there was no response. Entering anyway, she headed along the corridor towards the sitting room, the scent of peat as strong as before. But when she opened the door, there was no sign of Mackie in his usual chair by the fire.

‘Mackie!’ she shouted. ‘It’s Sergeant Green.’

The old man was hard of hearing, so he could be elsewhere in the house and not hear her. After another call went unanswered, she decided to look for him.

The kitchen was empty, although a tea tray had been set as before. She wondered if Yvanna had been there already today or whether Mackie had done that himself.

There were three doors leading off the hall, all of them shut. She knocked on the first, then opened it to find a bathroom. The second door led to what appeared to be a storeroom.

Outside the third door now, which had to be the old man’s bedroom, she knocked firmly and called out Mackie’s name.

‘It’sDSGreen here. May I come in?’

The silence that followed had a depth to it that sent her heart into overdrive.

Throwing open the door, she saw him, fully dressed, his upper body on the bed, face down, his knees on the floor.

Hurling herself towards him, she reached for his neck, her trembling fingers frantically seeking a pulse. And all the while, her brain was asking her why he should die now.

She’d spoken to him mere minutes ago and his voice had been strong and urgent.

The pulse was there – weak but there. Pressing the emergency call button on her phone, she requested an ambulance.

50

Ethan, swiftly answering her second call, soon appeared at the open door and immediately came to help her move Mackie into the recovery position on the floor.

Checking for a pulse again, she found it more easily now, although exposing the old man’s face had revealed a bloodied bruise on his forehead.

‘Did he knock his head on something when he collapsed?’ Ethan said, puzzled.

No, she thought, examining the injury more closely. ‘This didn’t come from his fall onto the bed,’ she said. ‘It looks more from an object or maybe even a fist?’

She imagined Mackie phoning her from this room and not his usual place by the fire. So where was his phone? A quick glance round told her it wasn’t in here.

‘Can you check the living room for his mobile?’ she said. ‘Remember, don’t handle anything. Just shout if you find it.’

When Ethan headed out to do as requested, she began checking this room properly.

Mackie had called her, say, twenty minutes ago. He’d used his phone to do that. So it must be in the house somewhere.

She checked his trouser pockets first, then the surrounding furniture, and lastly under the bed, in the vague hope he might have dropped it when he fell.

The mobile was definitely not in this room.

Not wanting to leave Mackie alone, she waited for Ethan to reappear. When he did, she read his expression.

‘It’s not in the living room?’ she said.

‘Nor the kitchen, bathroom or the storeroom. I checked them all.’

She stared at him, perplexed. ‘But he called me from it,’ she voiced her concern.

‘So whoever was here took it?’ Ethan said. ‘After they hit the old man?’ His replay of what had likely happened here reflected her own.

He was waiting and watching her, aware there was something she wasn’t telling him. Eventually he said, ‘Is this about what you and Mackie were working on?’

She nodded. ‘I think it might be. He had photos on his mobile he wanted to show me. It sounded urgent.’