Page 87 of The High Island

Work always came first for him and maybe for Rory too.

42

Having been woken from a deep sleep, and hearing the Liverpool accent, Erling had initially thought it was Rory calling him, before registering it was in factDSGowan on the phone.

As Gowan’s words began to take on shape and a terrible meaning, Erling told him he would head for Kirkwall immediately. Ringing off, he realized that he hadn’t instructed Gowan to secure the scene, plus all the other rules that had to be followed in the current circumstances.

But, he reasoned, as he threw on his clothes,DSGowan was a seasoned officer and should know the drill by heart.

Just as he was about to leave, he remembered that he’d toldDSGreen he’d deliver her to Auld Mackie’s this morning. He then messaged her to tell her that he’d had to go into the station earlier than expected. And could she get Magnus to drop her at Auld Mackie’s via Langwell, where she would find the diary in his porch.

Fetching Ivor’s diary from his vehicle, he stashed it, as promised, behind the coat stand in the porch.

Now, cresting the hill, he was met by the view of a restless Scapa Flow under a blood-red sky, prompting memories of last night’s endeavours. Which also made him wonder whether this morning’s terrible discovery in Kirkwall might in some way be linked to what had happened on Cava.

The young woman found drowned in the harbour earlier this morning had yet to be identified.DSGowan had been of the opinion she’d ended up there because of drink or drugs, or more likely a mixture of both.

If drugs had been involved and they were in any way linked back to the Mowats . . .

Erling felt a wave of anger engulf him. Might Leo Strachan have been right? Had something stronger than what they’d been dealing with up to now found its way into Orkney, either via the suspected younger Mowats or the county-linesgangs already established in Aberdeen and Inverness?

Being early Sunday morning, the road proved quiet, but Erling turned on the siren anyway, wanting to get to the harbour as swiftly as possible. He met only a couple of vehicles on the way, but was in little doubt the dwellings he passed would register that an incident had happened, and likely in Kirkwall.

Drawing up outside the Kirkwall Hotel, he found the area at the harbour cordoned off and an ambulance in attendance. The body, Erling suspected, was already inside, awaiting his arrival.

He noted two officers from last night’s team and a figure he recognized as Leo Strachan talking withDSGowan, who was still in his clubbing gear from the previous night.

Both men now turned towards him and Erling registered Leo’s distress and what looked like real anger onDSGowan’s face. Bracing himself for the possibility that he might know the victim, Erling made his approach.

‘What’s the story, Detective Sergeant?’ he said quietly.

‘An elderly man, staying in a front room on the second floor of the hotel, spotted the girl behaving oddly on the pier and called 999.’

‘Time?’ Erling said.

‘Around forty minutes ago. I was informed of the emergency call and arrived a few minutes before the ambulance. Leo was with me. Between us we pulled the female from the water and carried her onto the pier, then the paramedics took over. They pronouncedher dead shortly after that.’ He nodded towards the ambulance. ‘Leo didn’t know her, and the ambulance team didn’t recognize her either, although I think I may have seen her earlier in the club.’

‘AnyID?’

‘None, sir. No bag or phone on the body. Her outfit didn’t have any pockets either.’

Erling acknowledged all of this, then headed for the ambulance. It would be quicker should he be able to identify the victim, but . . . he stopped himself there. Regardless of her identity, she was someone’s daughter, and her family would have to be informed, likely by him.

He immediately recognized the two men with the ambulance. Alan Renton was the paramedic and lived out Evie way. The driver, Sandy, was from Kirkwall. They greeted him in a sombre manner.

‘My sergeant said you didn’t recognize her?’ he checked.

‘No,’ Alan said, with a shake of his head, ‘although they don’t look the same when they’re out clubbing, so I could be mistaken.’

Erling climbed into the back of the ambulance and took a seat beside the girl. If she was eighteen at all, it wasn’t by much, he thought. Not long in the water, her face was like someone passed out after a night on the town, make-up smeared, although the false eyelashes still clung to her lids. She wore dangly earrings and a nose ring, which looked like it was clipped on. Her hair was long and dark with a pink streak.

What little clothes there were consisted of a very short skirt and a top that barely covered the small breasts.

She would have been cold, he immediately thought. Not inside the club maybe, but definitely once she’d hit the fresh air.

A wave of sadness swept over him and he tasted some of the anger he’d seen on the sergeant’s face. A young life snuffed out before it had really begun.

Taking time to study the face again, he tried to picture this girl alive and walking about Kirkwall in normal attire, or maybe among the seniors at Kirkwall Grammar School when he’d gone there to speak to the pupils.