Read Thin Air: (Shetland book 6) for Free Online

fetch her in.’ He stopped again. ‘But I’m a stubborn bugger. I went to bed. And I’ve never had any trouble sleeping, so I went out like a light. When I got up this morning there was no sign of her.’ For the first time he seemed to lose control. He stopped walking and put his head in his hands.
    Perez waited for a moment. ‘She definitely didn’t sleep with you? Even for a while?’
    He shook his head. ‘She must still have been wearing the clothes she wore to the party. Nothing else is missing. Not even her trainers. She hadn’t taken off her make-up, because her cream and wipes were still packed, and she’d do that even if she was too drunk to stand.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘She’d love this: playing the lead in her own ghost story. Disappearing into nothing.’
    By now they were halfway along the beach and Perez could see the Meoness community hall, where the night before there would have been music and dancing, bunting and flowers, and a big glittering sign with the newly married couple’s name on it. They turned and had almost reached the house when they saw Sandy Wilson, standing on the deck and waving. The sun was so bright behind him that Perez couldn’t make out the expression on his face. It was impossible to tell if this was a wave of celebration or an urgent call for Perez’s presence. Perhaps Eleanor had been found by the search party, with nothing more serious than a broken ankle. Perez hoped so. He would like to meet her. Ian broke into a run.
    On the deck Sandy had been joined by Polly.
    Now Ian was close enough to shout. ‘Where is she? Have you found her?’ Perez sensed the desperation in his voice.
    Sandy didn’t reply.
    The women had left Eleanor’s phone in the planticrub, with Caroline to keep guard of it. At least the spate of US crime shows had made people aware that a possible crime scene shouldn’t be disturbed. Walking along the sheep track on the top of the cliff, Perez tried to work out what the discovery of the phone might mean. Ian had told him that he’d tried to call Eleanor as soon as he’d realized she was missing: ‘Of course I tried to get in touch with her. It was the first thing I thought of. And I’ve been trying ever since. But there was no answer.’
    Why did the woman no longer have her phone? And did this mean that someone other than Eleanor had composed the email to Polly Gilmour? Perez repeated the words in his head. Don’t bother looking for me. You won’t find me alive. He ran through explanations for the message, which grew wilder and more improbable: a killer setting up the scenario that Eleanor had committed suicide; someone playing a tasteless and elaborate joke. One thing was certain. Eleanor was still in Unst, whether she was alive or dead. The ferry boys had already told Sandy that nobody matching her description had left the island that morning.
    Lowrie’s new bride was sitting on the grass outside the crub, but scrambled to her feet when she saw him approach. She looked to Perez very English, strong and healthy, with curly fair hair and good white teeth. He could imagine her running up a hockey field and cheering her team on. And when she spoke there was a no-nonsense tone to the voice.
    ‘Is Polly OK? I didn’t want to send her off on her own, but I thought someone should stay here. Scare off the sheep. And any stray walkers.’ If she was upset about Eleanor’s disappearance there was no sign of it. But perhaps not showing emotion was part of her character too.
    ‘Polly’s with Marcus.’ Perez paused. Marcus had been comforting the woman as if she were a child, offering to wrap her in a rug, to make her herbal tea. ‘She’s distressed of course, but she seems fine.’ He looked over the wall. ‘You’re sure that belonged to Eleanor?’
    ‘I haven’t touched it to look at the call records,’ she said, ‘but it’s certainly the same model and colour.’
    He put on gloves and reached over the wall to retrieve the phone. It