day,’ said Lind.
He checked in on the kids and found them all fast asleep. Molly was the spitting image of Laura, with her long dark curls spilling over the pillow. However, she wasn’t a tomboy like her mother had been when they were growing up; she was a quiet bookish child who took her role as big sister very seriously. He removed the book from her bed and carefully saved the page, before putting it on her bedside table.
His four-year-old twins, Luke and Hugh, were sprawled in their bunk beds. Since the events of last year they had ceased to dress alike. Their matching duvet covers had gone. Lind felt sad that even that innocent pleasure had been taken from them.
Finally, he looked in on Adam, who was still fast asleep in his cot. Satisfied, he went back downstairs. A murder and the remains of a body all within the space of a few days. Nothing to link them, but it was Kirkcudbright, for goodness’ sake! This was far from normal. There was also a forgery ring running out of there, if intelligence was to be believed. Much would depend on the identity of the bones as to how things went from here. He had a bad feeling about it all that he couldn’t shake. It didn’t help that he knew nothing whatsoever about art. Unless it was a nice watercolour, he was completely at a loss. Fortunately, DI Moore had a fair grasp of the subject. The house felt even emptier now she was gone. Where on earth was Laura?
He decided not to wait up as he knew from recent experience that she was likely to come in spoiling for a fight. He fought the temptation to crack open a couple of beers and took himself off to bed even though it wasn’t yet ten. Things would seem better in the morning.
The sound of laughter woke him. He glanced at his watch and saw it was after three. Laura was clearly drunk, and she had company. This just wasn’t on. If he didn’t get them to call time now, next thing the kids would be awake and it would be a wailing match all round.
He entered the living room and stopped short. Laura was dressed to kill in an electric blue dress he had never seen before, but the make-up had slid off her face giving her a clownish appearance. She was absolutely steaming. There was no point in having it out with her now. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the brassy blonde sitting sprawled beside her on the couch, legs akimbo, her short skirt leaving little to the imagination.
‘Get a good look, did you?’ she said, catching his gaze, giving him a nasty stare.
This woman was trouble. He had met her type before. And now Laura, his gentle sweet wife, was in thrall to this creature. He stifled his rage and said as mildly as he could manage: ‘Laura, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’
‘Her name’s Selena,’ she muttered, as if to say it wasn’t really any of his business. Well, tough, he was going to make it his business. If she wasn’t prepared to fight for their marriage he would have to fight hard enough for both of them.
‘My name’s John,’ he said, forcing Selena to take his outstretched hand. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your second name?’ He leaned towards her, trying not to wince at the stink of stale alcohol and fags on her breath.
‘MacRae,’ she said, now looking wary and sitting up straighter.
‘Well, Selena, can I offer you a cup of coffee?’ he said pleasantly, but she caught the hint of steel in his eyes and stood up, gathering her coat and bag.
‘No thanks, time I hit the road. I’ll see you, pal,’ she said dropping a kiss on the top of Laura’s head on the way out.
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