Page 68 of Highland Games
‘My shoes? Why?’
‘The laces. We remove anything from your person that could be used to self-harm.’
Zoe layon the bench along the back wall of the cell, looking at the ceiling, trying to make out the scratched names and obscenities. She could hear drunks singing in other cells, repeatedly kicking the doors, and smell the acrid tang of vomit and bleach. She knew Scottish winter nights were long, but this was an eternity. Stress hormones flooded through her, her heart thudding quicker and louder than normal in her ears. As the hours went by, she kept repeating to herself ‘this too shall pass’ over and over again like a mantra.
Eventually the custody officer opened the hatch in the door. ‘Miss Maxwell, another solicitor has arrived offering to represent you.’
Zoe jumped up. ‘What? Who?’
‘Mr Alastair McCarthy. From MacLennan and McCarthy? He wants you to know he’s here at the request of the Earl of Kinloch. Would you like him to represent you instead of the duty solicitor?’
Zoe wavered. She was so tired and strung out she didn’t want to make the wrong decision. Rory had sent help. He couldn’t have been the one who called the police on her.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll have him instead,’ she replied.
Half an hour later, a very thin old man entered the cell carrying a large leather bag. He stood in front of Zoe and cleared his throat noisily. ‘Miss Maxwell, I am Alastair McCarthy. May I sit?’
Zoe nodded and scooted to the end of the bench. He slowly levered himself down, his craggy features softening. ‘Ahem, I must first offer an apology on behalf of the earl. He is, ahem, extremely, ahem, agitated by what has occurred today. He is currently giving a statement at the front desk refuting all the charges made against you.’
Zoe slumped back, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks. A clean hanky was passed to her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
‘No, no, it is not you, ahem, who should be apologising. There will be an interview at some point in the next couple of hours which I will attend with you. It is a mere formality. After that you will be free to go.’
Two hours later,Zoe collected her belongings and walked out into the reception of the police station with Alastair. Sitting waiting for her was Jamie.
He stood up awkwardly. ‘Hey, Zo. You okay?’
‘How did you know I was here?’ she asked in a daze.
‘That Rory bloke came to find Mum.’
Alastair turned to her. ‘Miss Maxwell, I trust I will see you again. Under, ahem, better circumstances.’
‘Thank you for all your help,’ she replied.
He gave her a short nod and left.
Jamie turned to her. ‘Mum’s made Fi’s old bed for you tonight if you want to come back to ours? Fi popped to yours earlier to fill the Rayburn and get you some clothes. She even brought your pet back with her and Mum didn’t say a word, which shows how much she loves you.’
Zoe clenched her jaw shut against the tide of emotion that was pushing to get out.
Jamie’s eyes crinkled with concern. ‘Zoe, what’s going on?’
She tried to speak but a sob burst out.
Jamie held out his arms and she stumbled into them. ‘Come on, Zo, let’s get you to Mum’s.’
23
Zoe woke to the smell of bacon the following lunchtime. She lay in the warmth and comfort of Fiona’s childhood bedroom, pulling her consciousness back into her body as she stared at the ceiling, so different from the one in the prison cell. Without allowing herself any thoughts or tears, she got up, showered, put on the clean clothes Fiona had brought her and went to find Morag in her pinny by the stove.
‘Ah, there you are, my darling!’ exclaimed Morag. ‘Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of tea. I’m making you brunch.’ She put her arms around Zoe, enveloping her in a hug. ‘Oh, you make me feel so small! How did you sleep? Sorry I missed you last night, I just couldn’t keep my eyes open, and Jamie had to go to work so he’s missed you too, and Fi’s at a class with Liam, so she sends her apologies and wants you to ring her as soon as you can.’
‘I’m so much better now, thank you.’ She blinked away tears.
Morag sat her down in a chair. ‘My poor wee lass, what a to-do, eh? Let’s get some food in you, then we can have a chat.’
Morag put the kettle on and finished making Zoe an enormous pile of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, black pudding and toast, while chatting merrily away. When Zoe was eating, she kept up the verbal barrage, ensuring all Zoe had to do was chew, swallow and nod. When the plate was clear, Zoe sat back, puffing out her cheeks.
