Secrets and History: McBride and Tanner by Rachel McLean, book 4 in the McBride & Tanner series - Chapter 1

Angus Wallace trudged through the damp grass, his boots squelching with each step. The early morning mist clung to the village of Lochranza, obscuring the loch’s edge.

“Kylie! Heel!” he called, his voice gruff from disuse. He lived alone these days, and barely spoke to anyone except his dog.

The black terrier ignored him, straining at her lead. Angus sighed. He should never have let his daughter name the dog.

As they neared the loch, Kylie’s excitement grew. With a sudden jerk, she slipped her collar and bolted towards the castle.

“Kylie! Get back here!” Angus shouted, but the dog had vanished towards the ruins.

Muttering under his breath, he followed. The castle loomed before him, its stone walls eerie in the mist. The dog had gone into the structure, through the lone opening. He followed with a grimace.

Inside, the air was cold and damp. Angus’s footsteps echoed as he trudged up the steps to the left of the narrow entrance, calling for the damn dog.

“Where are you, you daft mutt?”

A bark echoed from deeper within the ruins. Angus turned to follow the sound, rounding a corner into a large chamber and then a smaller, darker one off to one side. The old prison. He shivered.

Kylie stood a few meters in from the entrance, rigid, staring in at something. Angus followed her gaze.

His breath caught in his throat.

An object sat in the centre of the chamber, its shape becoming distinct as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. It was… it was a rowing boat.

A boat? In here? There was no water in here.

He edged forwards, wondering if it was wise. This dark chamber had given him the creeps ever since he was a child, his pals daring him to come in here.

He gasped as he saw what was inside.

A man.

Kylie gave one short sharp bark, then drew closer to Angus, leaning into him.

“It’s alright, girl. Nothing to be scared of.”

He was trying to reassure himself as much as the dog.

The man lay sprawled on his back, his limbs at odd angles. His face was pale, almost grey in the dim light. Dark hair clung to his forehead, matted with what looked like blood.

Angus didn’t know him, but he’d seen the man around the village. One of those bloody cult members, the ones staying up at the campsite. He’d seen them all in the pub, at first chatting with the locals like normal people, but then becoming increasingly isolated the longer they’d stayed.

But what was he doing here?

The man’s eyes stared blankly at the stone ceiling, lifeless and glassy. His mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Angus’s gaze travelled down the man’s body. His clothes were soaked through, as if he’d been pulled from the loch. But how had he ended up here, in this boat, inside the castle ruins?

Angus swallowed. Kylie was gone now. He hoped she’d run out of the castle. She’d wait for him, she was a good dog.

Angus took a step forward, raising his phone to shine the light more clearly onto the dead man. A deep gash ran across his throat, the skin around it ragged and torn. Blood had pooled beneath him, staining the wooden boards of the boat.

Angus swallowed hard, fighting the urge to be sick. He’d seen bodies before, but never like this.

Kylie whined from somewhere, breaking the silence. Angus shook himself out of his daze.

“Get out of here,” he muttered. Bloody fool, disturbing what was probably a crime scene.

He turned and headed out of the old prison, crossing himself and muttering a short prayer. Kylie was in the main chamber, her gaze on him, her head cocked. The mist had seeped into here, and with it an air of menace.

“It’s alright, girl.” He bent and ruffled her head, and she whined.

Yeah, me too.

Hands shaking, he pulled up his mobile and dialled. PC Sam Henderson. He didn’t envy the lad, having to deal with this.

“Sam? It’s Angus Wallace. You need to come to the castle. Now.”