The Dream Catcher by Marie Laval

her by a silversmith in Bou Saada.’
    Her voice wavered. ‘Malika and I grew up together, Lord McGunn. She’s my closest friend, almost a sister. I pray to God it’s not her. I don’t even know how it could be her, but I have to be sure.’
    At last he took a breath and nodded.
    â€˜All right, if you’re sure that’s what you want, but I’m warning you, it will upset you.’
    He took hold of her arm, his touch surprisingly gentle for once. As they got nearer an outcrop of rocks, she caught a glimpse of the black cloak, of long dark locks of hair spread out of the wet sand. Her head started spinning and her heart beat as loud as a bendir drum. She hardly noticed she was falling to her knees.
    â€˜Oh no…’ She heard her own hoarse, heart-wrenching cry. Her legs buckled under her. She felt the cold, damp sand under her cheek. And then she felt nothing at all.

Chapter Six
    â€˜How is she doing?’
    Kilroy closed the door and walked to the fireplace.
    â€˜She’ll be fine. Well, as fine as she can be under the circumstances. I understand she knew the dead girl.’
    â€˜She was a close friend of hers.’ Bruce pushed the papers on his desk into an untidy pile and reclined on his chair.
    He felt hot and shivery, exhausted and achy – no doubt as a consequence of several journeys up and down the cliff, first carrying an unconscious Rose back to the Lodge, and later the body of a dead woman.
    Untying his black necktie, he loosened the top buttons of his white linen shirt before rubbing his throbbing forehead with his fingers. That damned headache had come back with a vengeance. He could hardly see straight, let alone concentrate on his work, or anything else – like trying to remember where and when he had seen the beautiful, black-haired woman before today.
    â€˜This is a very odd turn of events indeed.’ Kilroy walked to a side table and poured himself half a tumbler of whisky.
    Bruce slammed the palm of his hand on the desk.
    â€˜Damn it, Kilroy, it’s more than odd. It’s downright bizarre. What the hell happened to Fenella MacKay and why was the body of an Algerian woman washed ashore on my land, when she’s supposed to be in Algiers, or Bou Saada or God knows where else?’
    He paused, closed his eyes and tried to silence the dark voice whispering that he knew the answer to both questions.
    â€˜McGunn, are you all right?’
    Bruce forced his eyes open.
    â€˜I’m fine,’ he growled.
    â€˜All I can tell you is that both suffered similar injuries,’ Kilroy resumed speaking. ‘Both were raped, tortured, burned and strangled.’
    â€˜Aye, I saw the burn marks this time.’
    Kilroy swallowed a mouthful of whisky, pensive.
    â€˜Human depravity will never cease to amaze me,’ he sighed. ‘Malika appears to have been killed in the last few days. The thing is, I don’t think either woman spent very long in the water – a few hours, at most. It’s almost as if they were both left near the beach, deliberately, to be found.’
    Bruce rubbed his forehead again.
    â€˜Are you still taking that tonic I had made for you?’ Kilroy asked. ‘You look as if you could do with a good measure of it right now.’
    Bruce opened the drawer of his desk and took out a half-empty brown glass bottle.
    â€˜Here is your medicine, doctor. I take two spoonfuls every night, like you ordered. See what a good patient I am?’
    He let out a short, joyless laugh.
    â€˜The brew is vile by the way, and doesn’t seem to be doing me any good whatsoever. I wonder what the hell you’ve put in it.’
    He put the bottle down on the desk.
    â€˜Give it time.’ Kilroy studied him. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’
    â€˜About what?’ Bruce pushed his chair back and got up but swayed as he rose. When he reached the fireplace he had to hold on to the