Whenever she heard MacKenzie utter a sharp intake of breath or sensed that panic wanted to take a stranglehold, Anna paused, ostensibly to point out a flower or bird. She chattered about the wedding that was fast approaching or about current affairs, anything to distract her friend from the horrors of the past.
Her kindness was almost MacKenzie’s undoing.
“Strange there aren’t more visitors,” Anna remarked, suddenly realising they hadn’t come across a single visitor or estate worker on their travels.
They stopped and peered through the trees, looking for the usual groups of families going on a bear hunt or collecting pine cones.
A twig snapped somewhere behind them and both women spun around in reflex, but there was nobody there.
*
The main house was equally deserted and the reason soon became apparent. Following the escalation of Victor Swann’s death to ‘suspicious’, visitor access had been suspended for a period of twenty-four hours to give the police a chance to conduct more detailed enquiries. Faulkner’s team of CSIs had been recalled, this time to give the staff room and Victor’s locker a thorough going-over, in addition to the man’s home in Rothbury. All but a skeleton staff remained to keep Cragside house and grounds operational, the others having been given the rest of the day off. The entrance was manned by a shiny-faced young constable who told them to enter their names into a log book. He scrutinised MacKenzie’s warrant card before handing it back to her.
“Sorry, ma’am, I almost didn’t recognise you.”
MacKenzie chose not to be offended but it stung nonetheless.
Had she changed so much?
They paused to cover their shoes in elasticated plastic, then made their way inside the house. To their right, they could see the CSIs already hard at work sweeping the staff room and they headed upstairs to the drawing room, where they found Ryan setting out the sequence of last night’s events for Yates’ benefit.
“There are two entrances to this room, one at the north end and one at the south end, which leads you through the billiards room and back around in a loop to the main corridor off the gallery,” he was saying. “Including Cassandra Gilbert, there were twenty-two people gathered in this room last night. Some seated around the dining table, others grouped together chatting, accounting for eight who had already gone home by the time Swann died.”
“Thirty guests in total, twenty-two remaining by the time Swann died,” Yates repeated, making a swift note in her book. “Does that include Lionel Gilbert?”
“No, that would make thirty-one.”
“Ah-ha,” Yates amended the note. “And, it was too dark to tell who might, or might not, have been absent while Swann made his way down to the fuse box?”
Ryan gave a brisk nod.
“We’ll re-interview everyone over the next couple of days while it’s fresh in their minds but I can tell you it was like a cave. You could barely see more than a few metres in front of your own hand, let alone be able to tell who might have slipped out of a room this size. I can start by listing who was in my immediate vicinity and we can ask the other guests what they can remember but that’s the best we’ve got.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for any CCTV?”
“You suppose correctly,” Ryan confirmed. “The Gilberts prefer to keep everything authentic, as close as possible to how things would have been during the Victorian era.”
Yates opened her mouth to ask another question but Ryan’s attention was immediately drawn elsewhere as he spotted Anna and MacKenzie entering the room.
He flashed a smile and strode across to greet them.
“This is a very pleasant surprise,” he said, leaning in to bestow a kiss on Anna’s upturned face.
Turning to MacKenzie, he couldn’t fail to notice the weight loss and general air of exhaustion but he had the Chief Constable’s words ringing in his ears from earlier that morning and felt optimistic that her arrival was a big step in the right direction.
“Are you sure you’re ready to come back to work?”
MacKenzie lifted her chin.
“I’m going to start with part-time duties and see how it goes.”
Ryan searched her face and whatever he read there seemed to satisfy him.
“That sounds sensible but don’t be shy to tell me if you change your mind.” He gave her a warm smile. “Welcome back, Mac.”
“Thanks,” she said and felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
Behind them, the floorboards creaked beneath the weight of two pairs of feet and Phillips entered the drawing room with Lowerson at his heels.
Their footsteps slowed when they caught sight of MacKenzie.
“Denise?” Phillips’ jaw fell open.
Uninhibited by the crowd of onlookers, he hurried across the room.
“Are you alright? I tried to call you—”
MacKenzie stifled a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Frank, I left my mobile phone at home. Anna came to see me and we drove out here together.”
Phillips sent Anna a frustrated glare.
“Out here? To the woods? Surely—”
“I asked her to,” MacKenzie put in firmly. “It’s time I started living again. I can’t hide away forever.”
He had questions, a lot of questions, but he decided to save them for when they had less of an audience.
“That’s good,” he rubbed his hands up and down her arms and then stepped back again, giving her the space she needed. When they were at work, Denise remained his superior officer and Phillips was always careful to respect that distinction.
“Hasn’t been the same without you,” Lowerson put in, with a wide smile.
“There’s no telling what mischief you’d get up to, left to your own devices,” she teased.
At the other end of the room, Yates watched them with a stab of envy. They were bonded together, a close-knit team of colleagues who behaved more like family, whereas she was on the periphery. She wondered if she would ever be welcomed with open arms, without the cool, professional formality Ryan employed as a default.
As if sensing her observation, he turned and gestured for her to join them.
“Yates?”
She hurried forward.
“I think you’ve all met PC Melanie Yates but I don’t know if you’ve met my fiancée, Anna?”
Yates pasted a friendly smile on her face and held out a hand to the tall, slim woman with the face of an angel.
“Doctor Taylor,” she said, politely.
Anna laughed but it wasn’t an unkind sound.
“Please, call me Anna. Only my students call me ‘Doctor Taylor’. Or Ryan, when he’s being facetious.”
Yates watched a smile pass between them and something lurched in her stomach. She nodded as the others drew her into conversation but her eyes strayed back to where their two dark heads leaned together, fingers touching now and then in the kind of natural gesture that spoke of two people who were supremely comfortable with one other.
When Anna excused herself to return to her own work, Yates raised a friendly hand to wave her off.