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“Prison? How do you know that?” Isobel was behind him in an instant, trying to peer over his shoulder. Which, considering she was a full head shorter than he was, wasn’t going to work. He moved to the side to make space for her, and pointed at the five dots on the man’s hand.
“Four dots forming a square, like walls of a building. One dot in the middle to show he’d been locked inside.” Callum reached for the man’s right hand, already knowing what he would find. He pointed at the letters above the knuckles of each finger. “ACAB—‘all cops are bastards’.”
Isobel’s eyes were wide again. “He’s a criminal?”
“Woman, he came off a boat that skulks into shore in the middle of the night. Did you think he was a tourist?”
“Is sarcasm your default setting?”
“Aye.” He turned back to the body.
The man looked to have been in his thirties, and there was evidence that he’d lived a rough life. His nose had been broken at least once. There was a patch of hair missing on the side of his head where an old scar was. And he had two teeth missing. Callum snapped photos of the face, making sure to get the front angle and the profile.
He shifted the body to get into the man’s pockets and spotted more of that telltale jail-black ink peeking out from under his shirt, along his hip. He lifted the material to get a look at the tattoo, and stilled when he saw it. Things had just gotten a whole lot worse.
“We need to call in the police.” He kept his voice even.
“We can’t. You promised. I can’t go to jail. I have two kids to look after. I can’t leave my kids.” Isobel was pacing again, wringing her hands and looking as though she might flee at any moment.
“He’s Russian mob.” Callum kept his eyes on her as he dropped that information. “The cops need to deal with this guy.”
She stopped and stared at him. “If he’s Russian, why is he here?”
“The Russian mob are everywhere. And you do not mess with them. Whatever is happening in your cove is way bigger than you thought it was.” Callum didn’t like this one bit. Every instinct he had said to call in the authorities and get Isobel and her family as far from this as possible.
He felt a gentle hand on his arm. The heat from it seared right through him. “I can’t, Callum. Please, don’t make me. There has to be another way to deal with this. Please.”
Callum sighed. He was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. He should walk away while he still could. He cast a glance at Isobel’s belly, to remind himself that the time for running had passed.
“If the mob is involved,” he said, “this is no amateur operation. These guys know exactly what they’re doing. They wouldn’t have dumped the body on the beach without having a reason. A warning, maybe?” Callum stilled as his heart skipped a beat. He looked at Isobel. “They had to know you’d seen them. How would they know that? Have you had contact with anyone who’s come off that boat?”
Isobel started to shake. She reached behind her, dragged an old wooden chair closer and sat down.
“No.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands. “Maybe the dead-body message was for someone else.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t think so. Callum’s brain was firing fast, connecting the dots of sketchy information Isobel had provided. He didn’t like the picture that was forming. “Isobel, have you had anything at all to do with these men?”
Her lush bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. It was almost enough to distract him. Almost. She looked up at him through thick black lashes.
“Last month…” She cleared her throat, and Callum didn’t dare move. He knew already that he wasn’t going to like what he heard. “Last month, there was a storm. They dropped a bag on the path up to the bluff and they didn’t come back for it.”
There was a thick silence. “Where’s the bag, Isobel?”
She visibly swallowed. “I took it to Campbeltown and sold the contents to the pawnbroker. I know it was wrong. I know it. I really needed the money and I knew they weren’t doing anything legal. But I still shouldn’t have done it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I stole from them. You may as well know that about me too. As well as having unprotected sex with inappropriate men, I’m a thief.”
She seemed to shrink, as though to protect herself from the condemnation she seemed sure was coming. She wouldn’t get it from him. He was more interested in the fact that there was something in the bag Isobel could take to a pawnshop. Callum had imagined the boat sneaking in at night had been smuggling contraband—cheap alcohol and cigarettes from Europe was a common haul. Drugs were rarer, but much more dangerous. But neither haul was something she could have sold to a pawnbroker.
“What was in the bag?”
Her wide eyes blinked. Callum folded his arms and waited.
“Camera equipment, mainly,” she said.
Callum felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. “Was there anything else in the bag?”
“Yes, but I only sold the things I recognised. The rest I gave to Jack to throw away. I asked him to take it over to the bin behind the shop, because I didn’t want it anywhere near us.” Her eyes flickered away from his. “You know, in case the men came looking for it, or the police found me with stolen goods. It didn’t look like much anyway, just some parts from electronic equipment.” She wet her dry lips. “Should I have kept them?”
Callum didn’t bother pointing out that she shouldn’t have touched the stuff in the first place. “What kind of camera equipment was in the bag?” Callum heard buzzing in his ears and knew it was his instinct screaming at him. Everything about this situation was wrong.
