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Kris wasn’t sure what to say. Whoever was killing women in Drumnadrochit had probably been killing people in other countries. And if he or she was even caught, the chances of the killer meeting a lethal end were slim with all the countries involved. But was it right to execute someone without a trial?
Before she’d come here, Kris would have answered that question with an unequivocal “no.” Now she wasn’t so sure.
“First I need ironclad proof,” Marty said quietly. “I’ll get it. One way or the other.”
“Okay.” Kris nodded. “Okay.”
“If it’s your … friend, I’ll still call.”
“Friend?” Kris echoed.
“Lover.” Marty’s lip curled. “God, I hate thinking that about my little sister, but I guess you’re all grown-up.”
“You think Liam is a serial killer?”
“He thought I was one.”
“You just said he doesn’t have a passport. How could he have left here and gone to all those other places?”
“You just said I was looking under the wrong name.” He glanced at the door through which Liam had disappeared. “I’ve got a bad feeling.…”
Kris did, too, but not about Liam’s passport. She didn’t believe Liam was a serial killer. However, he was up to something. She only hoped it wasn’t something that was going to get him killed.
“I spent some time at the Inverness Library,” Marty continued.
“Good for you,” Kris said, still thinking about Liam. And that tattoo.
“I’ve been trying to decide what legend the killer is imitating.” Kris forgot about the tattoo. “I found an obscure story in a really old book.”
His voice became more animated, as did his face. He obviously loved researching fairy tales as much as she’d once enjoyed listening to them.
“Didn’t find the account anywhere else,” he continued, “which is strange, because usually they get repeated and repeated until they become the basis for a lot of local boogeyman tales. For instance, you’d think that folks along the loch would use the threat of Nessie to warn kids away from the water.”
“‘If you go too close, the monster will get you,’” Kris said, and wiggled her fingers in the universal sign for “scary.”
“Exactly. But I couldn’t find anything like that, and considering the story I uncovered, I should have.”
“What’s the story?”
He motioned for them to sit and, when they had, continued. “Once upon a time, there was a kelpie.” Kris sat up straight, and her brother’s eyes widened. “You’ve heard this?”
“I’ve heard about kelpies, but nothing specific.”
“According to the librarian, every body of water in Scotland and Ireland has a kelpie legend. Which again makes me wonder why they aren’t telling one here.”
“Because it’s all Nessie all the time?”
“Or because they’re hiding something.”
“For a gazillion years?”
“You’d be surprised. The legend I read equates kelpie with Each Uisge.”
“Supernatural water horse.”
He nodded. “The beautiful horse would lure the unsuspecting onto its back to swim across the water; then for kicks and giggles it would become a fish, a frog, an eel, the very water around them. In over their heads, and most unable to swim in those days, the victims would drown. But the Loch Ness kelpie was different.”
“Different how?”
