the wall past the information board and lay on her stomach, head over the edge, indicating for Luc to hold the back of her coat.
‘No,’ he said, loudly enough for her to hear perfectly clearly over the gusts. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘I think you mean, I can’t let you do that, ma’am,’ Ava corrected him. ‘If you don’t hold onto me tightly enough, I’m joining our as yet unidentified friend on Ailsa’s table, so get a grip. Literally.’
‘Come back. I’ll climb it. Call me whatever names you like, I’m not okay with you taking that sort of risk.’
‘Except there’s no way I’m strong enough to pull you back when you slip. You’ll just take me down with you and that’s not how I want to go, so follow orders, Detective Inspector. I spent my childhood climbing walls like these and in worse weather.’
Dangling from the waist forwards, Ava leaned as far over the edge as Callanach would allow her. He guessed they were around fifteen metres up and even if his estimate was wrong, given the dark and precipitation, he was certain it was a sufficient distance to be lethal. Ava cursed every few seconds, shifting along the wall, moving the flashlight to and fro, up and down, until finally she shouted out.
‘Camera!’ Ava yelled, waving the flashlight towards Callanach’s face.
‘I need a free hand. You’ll have to come back up a second.’
‘No can do. I’ll never find this again. My camera’s in the left-hand pocket of my coat. Just grab it and pass it to me.’
‘God, you stubborn, stupid …’
‘I can hear you, you know. Take the torch.’
Callanach took it, keeping a grip of Ava with his right hand as he delved into her pocket and passed her digital camera to her.
‘What is it?’ he shouted.
‘Flap of skin, I think. There’s a thin line of it snagged on the rock.’
The flash went off several times and Luc braced himself to counterbalance Ava’s increasingly outward-leaning weight.
‘Take the camera and pass me an evidence bag.’
Callanach slipped the camera into his coat and reached into his trouser pocket for a plastic bag.
‘Ava, we have to come back and do this in the morning.’
‘It’ll be gone by then. There must have been blood here given the amount of skin but I can’t see any trace of it. If Ailsa’s right about the boot mark, this might be our last chance to get the evidence.’
Callanach handed her the bag. ‘Just give me a bit more room to manoeuvre, I think there’s something else stuck in the rock.’
She shifted her weight in order to move her head downwards. The gust that took her came from the opposite direction than the predominant gale, rendering Callanach’s balance useless and thrusting him forwards into Ava’s body. She screamed, grabbed the rock face, rolling to one side and losing her grip, her right leg flying into the air then crashing back down into the jagged brickwork. Her jeans ripped from knee to ankle and her cheekbone smashed hard against the bricks.
Callanach threw himself forwards, wrapping an arm around her thigh, feeling her slipping away from him. Scrabbling at the rock face, the flailing of her body was making it harder to hold her. The wind whipped around her head, taking her screams down the sheer castle wall.
‘Ava, I’m pulling you up on three. Tense your stomach, stop grabbing the walls and reach for my arm!’ he yelled with no way of knowing if she’d heard.
Forcing his boot tips over the ninety degree angle of the wall he was lying on to gain some stability, Callanach tensed.
‘One, two …’
She wrenched on his arm, moving too early, too jerkily. Her leg ripped away from him as she got a grasp of his hand.
‘Hold me!’ she screeched.
Blood was pouring down her face, and her grip was wet and weak on his hand. Both legs flew out behind her in the wind.
He scraped forwards across the flat of the wall, twisting his body to get better pulling power and dragging a knee up and under his core, roaring as he fought the wind for her, his right arm a vice around her back, launching himself backwards. They flew upwards and crashed against the rear of the visitor information sign, Ava like a rag doll in his arms once her weight shifted over the top of the wall. She landed on top of him, crying out and clutching him madly. Callanach cradled her head, whispering words of reassurance she would never hear over her cries and the storm.
It was minutes before she raised her head to look at him.
‘Do you need an ambulance?’ he asked.
Ava flexed both legs and ran her hand down her neck, tipping her head to one side then the other.
‘I’m okay,’ she decided.
‘You’re not okay. You’ve got a bloody death wish.’
Callanach took her by the shoulders and shook her. She looked at him, horrified, then her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed, shaking against his chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered into her hair. ‘You scared me. Come on, let me look at that gash on your face.’
Ava turned so he could wipe the worst of the blood away to inspect the injury beneath.
‘The cut on your cheek’s not too bad, but you’ve got a hell of a bump on your forehead. We should get you checked out for concussion. Can you walk?’
Ava nodded, rolling to her knees to get upright.
‘Slowly,’ he said. ‘Let me hold you.’
Standing, he pulled her up, sliding one arm around her waist and protecting her damaged face with his other hand. They took the spiral staircase at a snail’s pace, with Ava gripping the wall on one side and Callanach’s hand in front of her as if she were on a ship in a squall, pausing every few steps. He pulled her into one of the tiny but secure side rooms to rest before taking a look at her leg.
By the time they reached the ground, she was shaking so badly, Callanach was worried she might pass out.
‘Let me carry you. It’s flat from here.’
She looked up at him, her grey eyes huge in her ashen face, her hair bloody and flattened against her head.
‘Like hell you will,’ she managed with the smallest of smiles.
He laughed, loud and hard, the tension leaving his body in fierce waves that left him nauseous and breathless.
‘We need to get you warmed up,’ he said when he could finally speak again.
Finally, they staggered in through the visitor centre door, making the uniformed officer posted there jump up and grab for his ASP baton.
‘It’s
