Read Online Written in Bone by Simon Beckett - Free Book Online Page A

raised his hand in response to the respectful goodnights that accompanied them to the door. As they went out they almost bumped into Ellen coming the other way. She checked, almost spilling the steaming plate of stew she was carrying.
    ‘Sorry, our fault,’ Strachan said, his arm still round Grace’s waist.
    ‘Not at all.’ Ellen gave them both a polite smile. I thought I saw a flicker of something else on her face as she looked at the other woman, but it was gone before I could be sure. ‘Evening, Mrs Strachan.’
    It seemed to me there was a reserve there, but Grace didn’t appear to notice. ‘Hello, Ellen. Did you like the painting Anna did at school the other day?’
    ‘It’s on the fridge door, with the rest of the gallery.’
    ‘She’s got real promise. You should be proud of her.’
    ‘I am.’
    Strachan moved towards the door. He seemed impatient to leave. ‘Well, we’ll let you get on. Night.’
    Ellen’s face was so devoid of emotion it might have been a mask as she set the plate in front of me. She acknowledged my thanks with a perfunctory smile, already turning away. As she went out I reflected that Brody wasn’t the only person on Runa who didn’t seem overly impressed by the island’s golden couple.
    ‘Bitch!’
    The word seemed to ring in the quiet of the bar. Karen Tait’s mouth was pressed tight with bitterness as she glared at the door, but it wasn’t clear which of the two women who’d just left the insult was aimed at.
    Kinross levelled a warning finger at her, eyes angry above the dark beard. ‘That’s enough, Karen.’
    ‘Well, she is. Stuck up—’
    ‘
Karen.
’
    She subsided resentfully. Gradually, the ordinary sounds of the bar began to fill the silence. The clicking of the domino players’ pieces resumed, and the tension that seemed to have momentarily been present was dissipated.
    I took a forkful of the mutton stew. Ellen was as good a cook as Brody had said. But as I ate, I suddenly felt someone’s eyes on me. I looked up, and saw Kinross staring at me from across the bar. He held my gaze for a moment, his expression coldly watchful, before he slowly turned away.
     
    When I woke the hotel room was dark. The only light came from the window, where the street light outside lit the drawn curtains with a diffuse glow. There was an unnatural hush. The wind and rain seemed to have stopped, leaving not a whisper in their wake. The only sound was my own breathing, a steady rise and fall that could almost have been coming from someone else.
    I don’t know when I realized I wasn’t alone. It was more a dawning awareness of another presence than a sudden shock. In the dim light from the window, I looked at the foot of my bed and saw someone sitting there.
    Although all I could make out was a dark shape, somehow I knew it was a woman. She was looking at me, but for some reason I felt neither surprise nor fear. Only the weight of her mute expectation.
    Kara?
    But the hope had been nothing more than a waking reflex. Whoever this was, it wasn’t my dead wife.
    Who are you?
I said, or thought I said. The words didn’t seem to disturb the cold air of the room.
    The figure didn’t answer. Just continued its patient vigil, as though all the answers I would ever need were already laid out for me. I stared, trying to fathom either its features or its intent. But I could make out neither.
    I jumped as a gust of wind shook the window. Startled, I looked round, then turned back, expecting the shadowy figure to be still at the foot of the bed. But even in the darkness I could see the room was empty. And always had been, I realized. I’d been dreaming. A disturbingly realistic one, but a dream none the less.
    For a long time after my wife and daughter had been killed, I’d been no stranger to those.
    Another gust shook the window in its frame, driving rain against the glass like handfuls of gravel. I heard what sounded like a cry from outside. It could have been an owl or some other