‘Right, that settles it. We’ll head off there first.’
Farrell got out and approached the car behind. It was being driven by the officer who had attended the death in Kirkcudbright, PC Calum McGhie.
‘I’m sorry but we can’t advance any further until the MoD arrive, which won’t be for another couple of hours. I’m going to need you guys to wait here until then.’
‘Yes, sir,’ PC McGhie responded, looking glum.
They made a U turn for the second time that day and headed back out to the main road, with Farrell keeping one eye on the satnav. It was so incredibly remote out here that it was nothing short of a miracle the remains had been discovered at all. It was a vast area and ran right alongside the rugged coastline. A thought occurred to him.
‘That forgery case you’re working on with DI Moore, Mhairi, if they’ve disappeared off the radar they may be using this land to smuggle the forged pieces out. It’s so desolate they would have virtually no chance of detection.’
‘It’s possible. Look, there’s the turning there!’
The road was so narrow, Farrell had almost missed it. Little more than a dirt track winding down to a whitewashed farmhouse that had seen better days. A sheepdog ran out barking followed by a wizened old man clad in so many layers he could have passed for a scarecrow. He bade the dog come to heel and stood waiting for them while they parked in his yard, taking care to avoid the clucking disapproval of the hens. A cockerel that reminded Farrell of DS Byers strutted in front of them.
‘Mr Jarvis?’ Farrell said, taking the old farmer’s wrinkled hand in his own. The man’s grip was strong. He wasn’t as frail as he looked.
‘Aye, that’s me, lad. Gave me a fair turn, seeing what I did. Best come in. I’ll stick the kettle on. You too, lass.’
Once they were settled at the kitchen table with mugs of hot sweet tea, he began.
‘I was out with Jess,’ nodding at the dog lying by his feet, ‘looking for a stray sheep, when she raced up that yonder hill into a bit of woodland and stood there barking. I shouted at her, but she wasn’t for budging, so I hauled myself to the top to see what she’d found, thinking it was a dead deer or a fox.’
He paused, relishing the telling of it. This told Farrell that the remains weren’t much more than bones, or he would have been more upset. He figured the old man was lonely, didn’t get the chance to talk often, so let him continue at his own pace instead of trying to hurry him up. He could see Mhairi’s foot jiggling impatiently on the worn tiles, but she too bit her lip.
‘Well, I got up there and could immediately see that the bones were human, so I called off the dog, fetched back here and called you lot. Seemed an odd place to dump a body. Giving yourself all that work slogging up the hill? Didn’t make sense when you could’ve heaved it over the cliffs. It wasn’t even as though the bones were dug up. Just sitting on the surface they were. Mind you, they might have been buried at one point. We had some mighty wild storms this winter.’
Farrell stood up, followed by Mhairi.
‘Can you take us to the remains?’
‘Aye, lad, that I can. It’s a fair way mind. Might be best to take the tractor?’
Farrell ignored the pleading look from Mhairi. He couldn’t run the risk of destroying any trail of evidence. Shanks’s pony it was then. They set off, struggling to keep up with the farmer, who was as fit as a flea. The land was very exposed to the elements, but with spectacular sea views. They could hear the roar below as the waves pounded into the cliffs.
‘What about the unexploded ordnance?’ asked Mhairi, looking as though she expected to be blown to smithereens at any moment.
‘Och, never you mind about that, lass,’ the farmer chortled. ‘More likely to be hit crossing the road.’
After a couple of miles, Jarvis stopped, pointing to a straggly copse of trees on top of a hill.
‘Straight up there. You can’t miss it. Will you be able to find your own way back? I’ve got plenty of stuff to do at the farm.’
Farrell thanked him. He handed a pair of plastic shoe covers to Mhairi and put on some himself. They climbed cautiously up the hill trying not to dislodge any stones or rocks as they went. On reaching the summit, they were breathing heavily. It had been steeper than it looked from a distance. As they moved carefully through the trees they could see the exposed bones lying in a small mossy clearing. They had clearly been placed in a shallow grave.
‘That’s odd,’ said Farrell, frowning. ‘The soil seems to have been turned over recently, but the bones are old.’
‘Look at those marks,’ said Mhairi, pointing to some indentations in the soil.
‘Someone has been up here not long ago, which means the bones were either brought here from elsewhere …’
‘Or someone wanted to take a little trip down memory lane,’ finished Mhairi. ‘About three years ago a girl went missing from this area, an Ailish Kerrigan. It was one of DCI Lind’s cases. He always felt that something bad had happened to her.’
They retraced their steps carefully back down the hill and sat overlooking the sea, while they waited for SOCO. Mhairi perched on a rock and turned her white face up to the winter sun, which was now beating down on them with more fervour than normal for a January afternoon. A buzzard looped lazily around, silent and deadly. The seabirds squabbled endlessly on the cliffs.
Farrell sat awkwardly on another rock. There was something rotten in this sleepy little town. Evil had burrowed under its skin and he was going to have to excise it using all means at his disposal. Comfortable in the silence, he closed his eyes for a few moments and prayed.
‘Sir!’ Mhairi shook his arm, startling him. He should have known better than to think she would give him five minutes’ peace.
‘They’re coming! I can see them in the distance.’
They both scrambled to their feet and waved at the procession of bodies marching determinedly in single file towards them. As the group got closer they could see that there was an army officer leading the two SOCOs, Phil Tait and Janet White, followed by the two Kirkcudbright officers, DS Byers and another army officer bringing up the rear.
As the army officers advanced, with their military bearing very much in evidence, Farrell had to fight the urge to stiffen to attention. He could hear a stifled giggle from McLeod and shot her a quelling glare, which if anything seemed to make her worse.
The leading officer approached Farrell with an outstretched hand. He had been half expecting him to salute.
‘Lieutenant Benjamin Wood, at your service,’ he said.
‘DI Farrell, and DC McLeod,’ answered Farrell. ‘Sorry to drag you all the way here. How did you get down so quickly?’
‘We were at a training course nearby.’
‘What about the risk of unexploded ordnance, Lieutenant?’ Farrell asked.
DS Byers looked worried. Nobody had filled him in then. Mind you, if he ran true to form he would be more concerned about ruining his expensive shoes than getting blown up.
‘Is this part we’re in at the moment safe?’ asked Byers.
‘As far as we know,’ the lieutenant replied. ‘Shells can veer dramatically off course. Don’t touch any suspicious objects, look where you’re placing your feet, and you should be fine.’
‘I’m going up there now with SOCO and, once they’ve done the necessary, the remains can be removed to the morgue at Dumfries and Galloway Royal Infirmary,’ said Farrell. ‘I’m afraid we won’t know much until the