Authors: Lin Anderson
EPILOGUE
If they ever found Spike's body, Rhona was never told. When the MOD took MacAulay's body parts and Spike's DNA sample, she was advised, in the interest of national security, not to discuss the case.
The baby's mother reported him missing the day after Spike took Esther from the hospital. Social Services already had him on the at-risk register. He was placed with foster parents and, because of the circumstances, Esther wasn't charged.
Esther took time to recover but Maley's death had freed her of fear. She stayed on in Raasay with Mrs MacMurdo. When Rhona went back six weeks later, she was helping out in the Post Office. They walked together towards Hallaig among the swaying birch trees.
Esther told Rhona about Maley and how the drugs she took when she was with him made her ill. The voices had become less frequent now and she hoped eventually for peace. As she saw it, Spike had saved her life.
'Spike loved you,' Rhona told her.
'I know.'
Rhona gave Esther the song Sean had written for her. Esther promised to come and sing it at the club, soon. With a few carefully-worded enquiries about Esther's health Rhona ascertained that the girl wasn't pregnant, and she never told her the truth about Spike. Esther thought he'd killed himself because of the part he played in his father's death and Rhona let her believe that.
Two months later Esther sang again. In her green silk dress, she reminded Rhona of the birch trees in Raasay Wood. They both imagined Spike standing at the bar watching, a smile on his face.
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ESTHER'S SONG
There's something inside me
A feeling so strong
No shadow can darken
It's here I belong
Dark clouds may gather
Rain start to fall
But I’ll be here
When words try to hurt me
Lost dreams fill my mind
A vision of darkness
I left far behind
Love lifts me higher
Love shows me the way
And gives me a reason
To be here
And that something inside me
Gets stronger each day
I know I can make it
If love shows the way
The notes now are sweeter
'Cos I’m here with you
The shadows are gone now
It's here I belong
Love gave me a reason
To be here
Esther's Song
- Words by Lin Anderson, music by Rage Music. Written for the 2001 STV drama
Small Love
which told part of Esther and Spike's story.
A NOTE ON CLONING
The best known cloning technique is somatic cell nuclear transfer (SCNT). The nucleus from a body cell (male or female) is put into an egg from which the nucleus has been removed. The resulting entity is triggered by chemicals or electricity to begin developing into an embryo. If that embryo were placed into a woman's uterus and brought to term, it would develop into a child that would be the genetic duplicate of the person from whom the original body cell nucleus was taken - a clone.
Dolly the Sheep, the world's first cloned mammal, was born in 1996 at the Roslin Institute near Edinburgh and, apparently subject to an accelerated ageing process, was put to sleep in 2003. Her stuffed carcass is on permanent exhibition at the Royal Museum of Scotland in Chambers Street, Edinburgh. At the time of writing, no human clones are thought to have been born.
About the Author
Lin Anderson has published eight novels featuring forensic expert Dr Rhona MacLeod, of which Deadly Code is the third. The eighth,
The Reborn
is out in paperback in June 2012. Her short stories have appeared in a number of collections. Most recently
Dead Close
was chosen for the Best of British Crime 2011. Also a screenwriter, her film
River Child
won a BAFTA and the Celtic Film Festival Best Fiction award.
Other books in the series, available as print copies and ebooks
Driftnet
Torch
Dark Flight
Easy Kill
Final Cut
The Reborn
Picture Her Dead
Connect with Lin Online:
Author’s homepage:
http//www.lin-anderson.com
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/Lin_Anderson
Dark Flight
Day 1 Monday
‘You can go outside, but stay in the garden. Do you hear me, Stephen?’ His mum’s voice was shrill, like a witch.
Gran’s bedroom smelt of pee. His mum was stripping the bed, while his gran sat in a winged armchair, her hair a fluffy white halo. She winked at Stephen as he left the room. His gran was sick, but she wasn’t cross.
The garden was tiny and surrounded by a high hedge. Once, when he came on holiday, he’d helped his granddad cut the hedge, but now it was so tall, it blocked the light.
Stephen stood on the closed gate, humming to himself... until he saw the bones.
They lay in the shape of a cross, on the pavement just outside the garden. Excitement beat the pulse at his temple. Already his active imagination was writing the bones into a story of pirates and treasure. He looked up and down the empty street. Whoever had dropped them was gone. Probably they would never come back. Conscience assuaged, Stephen dropped to his knees, slipped his small hand through the black bars and stretched his arm as far as he could. He grunted as the metal dug painfully into his armpit, his face squashed sideways to the gate. Out of the corner of his eye, his fingers wriggled disappointingly short of the bones.
He withdrew his arm and rubbed it, muttering under his breath in a decisive manner. ‘I’ll have to go outside. I’ll just have to.’
He sneaked a look at the kitchen window. What if his mum was at the sink? His heart leapt. The window was blank. A mix of excitement and fear coursed through his veins and he swallowed hard.
He conjured up an image of his mum’s angry face if he disobeyed her and he wiped his mouth anxiously. She would go bananas, raving on at him about not doing what he was told. It was a scary thought.
But if he was quick? He saw himself zip out and in again almost instantaneously like Billy Whizz in the Beano comic. The bones were tantalisingly close. And it wasn’t really going outside, he told himself firmly. Not if he was very very quick.
Stephen slipped through, snatched up the bones and stepped swiftly back inside, pulling the gate quietly shut behind him. He stood stock still, his heart thudding his chest. At last he let his breath out in an exaggerated gasp. He had done it!
He smiled down at his prize.
The bones were about the size of his first finger, tied together with red thread. He held the cross to his nose and sniffed. They smelt like the garden when his granddad used to dig up the weeds.
He placed the bones in his left palm and ran his finger over them, studying the three lines scored at the top of each one, which could be a magic mark.
A muffled voice made him look up guiltily. Had his mum seen him go out of the garden? He whistled through his teeth, and shuffled his feet, waiting for the shout that meant trouble.
But no shout came.
When he felt brave enough to look directly, the face that stared at him through the glass was his mum’s, but it didn’t look like her. Stephen’s mouth dropped open and real fear grabbed his stomach. His mum’s face was chalk white, her mouth twisted in pain. Behind her was a dark shadow.
Stephen dropped the bones.
‘Mum?’ His voice emerged in a whimper.
She opened her mouth as if to scream at him and he waited, rigid with apprehension. Then her face jerked towards the glass, once, twice, three times.
Stephen stood rooted to the spot, watching her neck whip backwards and forwards. Then it was over.
She caught his eye and held it. Her mouth moved in a silent exaggerated word. RUN. She said.