Deadly Cairns

CHAPTER 2 THE WARNING

CHAPTER 2 THE WARNING

Someone was climbing up towards us. At this hour? The ruins were always empty this early. Even the most dedicated dog owners were still hitting snooze, tourists wouldn't show up until mid-morning, and locals had enough sense to stay away from the biting dawn air. My shoulders tensed automatically. Years of travelling alone with expensive camera gear had taught me to pay attention when something felt wrong, and right now, my internal alarm was quietly going off.

But as the figure got closer, I saw the neon-yellow high-visibility vest. A police officer. In the middle of nowhere. At dawn.

I glanced at Brian. He was still focused on his drone's control panel and hadn't noticed our visitor.

"Brian," I hushed my tone. "We've got company."

"Hmm?" He wasn't bothered.

"Police. Coming this way."

That got his attention. He looked up. "Police? Here? Why?"

"I don't know. What have you done?"

"Nothing!" he protested, a bit too quickly.

"Really? No robbing vegan food trucks? No 'free the bee' protest at the Tesco honey aisle?

"That was only one time, and those bees on the honey pots looked really unhappy."

I poked him in the ribs. "Maybe it's about your drone. Do you have your permits?"

Brian's face went through several expressions before landing somewhere between panic and irritation. "Of course I have my permits! I'm a professional! Sort of."

The officer was close enough now that he could probably hear us. Brian immediately started rummaging through his pockets. His drone controller dangled precariously from one hand.

"It's here somewhere!" he called out. "I have all the legal documents! All of them! Very legal! Very permitted!"

The officer made his way over to us, clearly familiar with scenes like this. He kept a neutral expression, but I noticed a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched Brian search frantically.

"Good morning!" His accent was clearly Highland. "Fine day for photography."

"Good morning, officer," I replied, trying to counterbalance Brian's suspicious-looking innocence with calmness. "Is there something we can help you with?"

He nodded towards Brian's drone, still hovering obediently overhead. "That's what I'm here about, actually."

Brian stopped with his hand halfway into his jacket pocket. "I have the permit," he said weakly. "Somewhere. Promised."

The officer smiled slightly. "I'm not here for permits."

"You're not?" Brian let out a breath.

He shook his head. "No. I'm here with a safety warning." The smile faded, replaced by something more official. "There've been a few... incidents lately. In Scotland. Drone photographers getting themselves into trouble."

I raised an eyebrow. "Incidents?"

"Three murders in the past month."

Murders. Not just a lost sheep or a stolen wallet. Real, chilling murders.

"All three victims were drone photographers," the officer continued. "Found at popular tourist spots across Scotland."

I stepped forward, and the journalist in me switched into interview mode without thinking. "Where?"

"Really different areas, but all very popular. Glenfinnan Viaduct, Dunnottar Castle, and Edinburgh's Victoria Street."

"And you think they're connected?" I asked.

The officer nodded. "Same modus operandi, same type of victim."

"What exactly happened?"

He shook his head. "Can't share details of an ongoing investigation, I'm afraid. I'm just here to warn drone users to be careful. Especially those operating in remote spots or early morning when there's no one else around." He glanced meaningfully at Brian's drone, still humming in the air. "Like yourselves."

Brian had gone pale. "You're telling me that there's a serial killer targeting drone photographers in Scotland? And we're standing in a remote location at dawn with a drone?"

"That's about the size of it, aye."

Brian turned to me. "This is your fault! 'Let's photograph crumbling castles at foggy dawn,' you said. 'It'll be atmospheric,' you said. You left out the part where it might get us killed."

I gave him a look sharp enough to make him stop talking. But he went on, barely pausing for breath. "I should be photographing vegan haggis in well-lit restaurants. Nobody gets murdered for taking pictures of haggis. It's a very safe subject. Boring, but non-fatal."

The officer kept a straight face, but I noticed a small amusement in his eyes. He'd clearly dealt with many overreacting civilians like Brian before.

"Is there a support hotline?" Brian glanced at the officer. "Or maybe a survival guide for drone photographers? Or at least a leaflet like 'Staying Alive While Flying a Drone in Scotland'?"

"Just use common sense," the officer advised. "And if you see anything suspicious, call the police straight away." He fixed his attention on the drone. "I'd advise against flying that until we catch whoever's responsible."

Brian was already tapping furiously at his controller, bringing the drone down so fast I worried it might crash. "Not touching it again," he promised as he snatched the drone from the air. "It's going under my bed at the B&B. Might take up watercolour painting instead. Much safer."

I remained calm and ignored him, as I usually do.

"This isn't really a tourist hotspot like Glenfinnan, though," I pointed out. "It's a bit off the beaten track."

"True," the officer conceded. "But we don't know yet if the pattern will hold. Better safe than sorry."

With a few more warnings and a stern look at Brian's drone, now clutched protectively to his chest, the officer bid us good day and walked back down the path towards the car park.

Brian immediately began stuffing the drone into his backpack, zipping it with unnecessary force. "This thing stays locked away until they've caught the drone murderer."

"That might impact our aerial shots for the book," I interjected.

"I don't care."

I watched the officer walk away, thinking about the little information he had given us. Three murders at major tourist sites. All drone photographers. The officer's answers had been deliberately vague.

"There's more to this story," I said, more to myself than to Brian.

"More?" Brian squeaked. "Isn't serial killing enough?"

I folded up my tripod, barely aware of my own hands. My head was crowded with questions. Since when did police officers wander around at sunrise in the middle of nowhere just to hand out warnings? If it were routine, they could have just posted something online or sent a short notice to the newspapers.

No, this was something the police wanted to keep quiet. The whole thing had the feel of a secret, just waiting for someone to pull at the edges. My fingers itched to find the first loose thread.