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Shona leaned over Baird. His eyelids were drooping, his face a deathly white. Blood was seeping through Shona’s fingers. ‘Gavin, can you hear me?’
‘Hanlon… got to stop them,’ he gasped.
‘How, Gavin? How do I stop them?’ Shona leant forward; his whispering breath fluttered like birds’ wings against her cheek.
‘I… Not money… clean.’ Baird’s fingers were searching for something to cling on to and she took his hand squeezing it tightly. ‘Never meant… to harm you…’
‘I know, I know, Gavin,’ Shona said desperately. ‘How do I stop them?’
‘Hard…’ He breathed, his eyes rolling back. Shona felt the blood soaking her jeans, seeping up from the carpet as struggled to hold onto Baird.
‘I know it will be. Help me stop them.’
‘Shared…’
‘What? What did you share? Gavin, open your eyes for me,’ she called desperately. ‘The ambulance is coming.’ But as the faltering red glow of the exhausted flare was replaced by sweeping blue lights, Baird’s slackened muscles and glassy stare told her it was too late.
She heard a commotion in the boat hall. Voices yelling, ‘Police, show yourselves.’
‘Up here,’ she shouted. Constable Guy Matthews appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by the bright red hair of Special Lewis Johnstone, torches waving like searchlights through the lingering smoke. Their jaws dropped at the scene of horror before them. ‘Get the paramedics,’ Shona yelled. Her last ditch attempts to revive Baird were failing, blood seeping from the gunshot wound with every chest compression. ‘Matthews, that’s the shooter.’ She pointed a bloody finger over the rail at the boat bay. ‘Secure the weapon, it’s down there somewhere.’
Suddenly, Murdo was at her elbow, pulling her away. Outside, Becca ran to Tommy, who was sitting on the pavement, a dressing held to his head. Kirkness residents were gathering, drawn by the sirens descending on their village. Shona searched in vain for Rob among the shocked crowd lit by the flickering blue beams of the emergency vehicles.
‘Boss?’ Murdo’s face had a thousand questions. ‘You okay?’ He gripped her shoulders.
‘Yes, yes.’ She nodded. ‘I guess you’ll need statements…’ She was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.
‘Never mind that now. I’m taking you and Becca to hospital.’ Murdo kept one arm round Shona as he led her to where Becca sat, a blanket over her shoulders. Shona leaned gratefully against his solid bulk, her limbs suddenly heavy with tiredness. ‘It was Evan Campbell. You need to secure the scene, get forensics down here…’
‘Aye well, never you mind that. Campbell’s dead, broken neck. He’s not going anywhere. Ravi and Kate are on their way. I think you should get checked.’ He motioned to a bruise on Shona’s face which she had no idea how she sustained. ‘Is Baird really…’
‘Yes, Campbell shot him. Dan…’ Shona felt her pockets. Her phone was out of charge and lying somewhere in the crew room with Baird’s lifeless body. ‘Tell Dan what’s happened.’
‘Shona, Shona.’
The voice sounded fuzzy, far away over the tinnitus roar, a residue of the gunshots. Rob had burst through the police cordon and seconds later enveloped Shona and Becca in a tight embrace. She could feel the wet smear of tears across his cheeks. His breath came in huge gulps and he was shaking with shock. Murdo motioned away the constable who’d run after Rob and was trying to restrain him.
‘Right, no arguments,’ said Murdo. ‘Have you had a drink today, Rob?’ He turned to Shona’s husband, once more the severe officer in charge.
Rob looked chastened by Murdo’s tone. ‘No, I haven’t.’ Shona thought of the whisky she’d emptied down the sink and their lack of cash, and decided he was telling the truth.
‘Right well, I’ve a job for you. Take your wife and daughter to hospital. Get them checked over. Think you can do that for me?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Rob said, pulling Shona and Becca close. ‘I can look after my family.’ He sounded as if he was convincing himself as much as Murdo, but when Shona looked at the firm set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes, she knew he meant it.
Chapter 35
Nearly two weeks later, on a bleak Thursday afternoon, Shona buttoned up the front of her black wool coat and straightened her shoulders. The mournful drone of bagpipes filled the damp October air. The guard of honour came to attention as a single piper led the funeral procession towards the crematorium. DCI Gavin Baird’s coffin was carried on the shoulders of uniformed officers and draped with a white b
anner showing the Police Scotland shield. Detective Superintendent Malcom Munroe, in full dress uniform and medals, walked behind the piper. Baird’s widow Nicola and their children were in the following car.
Shona had given a brief statement about Gavin Baird’s death. Now she heard echoes of her own words in the police chaplain’s address. A brave officer. Cut down in the line of duty. Gave his life to protect others.
Murdo was waiting for her in the car after the tea and ham sandwiches at a local hotel. ‘Let’s give her an hour to get back to the house,’ Shona said, and Murdo nodded in agreement.
They pulled up to Baird’s detached villa in Newton Mearns just as the light was going. The orange glow from the picture windows spilled out onto the gravel drive. In the living room, Nicola was still wearing her fitted black dress but had shrugged off the matching coat. Her phone was pressed to her ear. She laughed at something the caller said as she unpinned her tightly wound chignon of blonde hair and shook it free.
‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Shona said to Murdo.
