Page 25

We were lucky on Leth Sholas to have DC Paul Young. A good, honorable officer. But I remember one night in the Lantern, just after the Highland Games took place on the island, he’d confessed to me while he was off duty and a wee bit drunk that there had been two officers sent to help manage the crowds who were entitled pricks on a power trip. He’d cursed the job for attracting those types. He said it was up to everyone else on the force to weed them out for everyone’s sake.

PC Hill was a weed. I’d bet my life savings on it.

When his gaze landed on Cameron’s chest and stayed there for a few seconds too long, I almost lost my shit.

He looked at me and his mouth turned up at the corner.

The fucker was baiting me.

I blanked my expression, even though a man who used a woman to do that to another man should not be wearing that fucking uniform.

“You do know you’re probably going to be arrested for confessing to breaking and entering.” Hill smirked.

I tensed, hoping Cameron wouldn’t let him bait her.

Thankfully, or not so thankfully, she was still too in shock to react.

To my relief, PC Colins returned quickly and with a woman in plain clothes. The woman was probably only a few years older than me and dressed in a fitted suit. She had short dark hair and was as tall as Cameron. Her sharp gaze moved from us to the male officer. “Hill, you can leave.”

PC Hill looked outraged. “Why⁠—”

“I’ll call you if I need you,” the woman clipped with impressive command.

I took great pleasure in watching the bastard contain his outrage as he strode from the room.

“Mr. Dallas, Ms. McQuarrie, I’m Detective Inspector Katherine Mulvaney.” She slid into the seat opposite us. “I’m working in conjunction with multiple police forces’ Major Crime Units along with the National Crime Agency in the country’s current largest manhunt. PC Colins has suggested to me that you have evidence to share with us that might aid us in our investigation of the Iron Ripper murders.”

Cameron nodded numbly.

“I’d like to conduct a second interview. Do you consent?”

We looked at each other and nodded.

My mind reeled.

I still hadn’t fully processed how I’d gone from collecting a car in Aberdeen to breaking into a flat with Cameron only to discover the creepiest fucking evidence I’d ever seen in my life, leading to here. In a police station with Cameron, worrying about her current mental state and feeling the need to scrub the last few hours off my skin.

I couldn’t even imagine how Cameron was feeling right now.

“The time is 4:44 p.m. on April 4. I’m Detective Inspector Katherine Mulvaney accompanied by PC Colins interviewing Cameron McQuarrie of”—she glanced down at her colleague’s notes—“Number 8 Glenbuie Street, Leth Sholas, Isle of Glenvulin, and Forde Dallas of 2 Argyll Way, Leth Sholas, Isle of Glenvulin. Can you please confirm that you have given your permission to be recorded?”

We did and at the tremor in Cameron’s voice, I reached under the table to cover her hand with mine.

“Now, please state for the record why you’ve come here today.”

Cameron shot me a heartbreakingly destroyed look before she turned to DI Mulvaney. “Three and a half years ago, I began casually dating a man called Greig Wallace, a freelance plasterer who stayed temporarily on the island for work. We haven’t dated in over two years, but we’ve stayed in contact … and I have evidence that links him to the Iron Ripper murders.”

Hours passed. If I felt like I was losing my mind, I had no idea how Cameron must be feeling. The police had left us in the interview room, though PC Colins had brought us refreshments and we’d been allowed to use the restroom. They’d confiscated Cameron’s laptop for analysis, but they hadn’t told us much of anything until Colins informed us they’d gotten an emergency warrant to take a blood sample from Greig as well as search Greig’s flat. Our phones had also been confiscated, and I knew people would start to worry about us if they didn’t hear from us soon. Thankfully we had each other. Cameron kept apologizing for dragging me into it, but the thought of her having found that stuff in Greig’s attic by herself … or the thought of him coming home to find her in his flat … I shuddered.

If he really was a serial killer, Cameron had far too close a call. Many times, in fact.

DI Mulvaney had warned us with more compassion than Hill that we might face charges for breaking and entering Greig’s flat. Compassionate she might have been, but I could tell she was fucked off about it because I knew if Cameron was right, and I was pretty sure at this point she was, this could damage the case against Greig.

I wondered if Cameron had contemplated what this meant for her. She would be the star witness in a high-profile serial killer case. Her face would be splashed all over national news. My worry for her made my chest tight.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered for the umpteenth time.

Cameron was always so strong, so prideful and outspoken. To see her looking this defeated broke my heart. I settled my hand on the back of her neck, gripping it ever so slightly. The action cleared her expression a little, which was what I was hoping for. “Stop apologizing.” I squeezed her nape in comfort. “I’m glad I’m here.”