The House on the Shore (46 page)

“This has nothing to do with a hillwalker.
It seems as though a woman
driving
a Land Rover is missing.”

Mac laughed.
“Yeah, well, they’re lying at the bottom of the hill on the glen road.
I saw the accident myself.
Horrific it was
. T
he Land Rover came down the hill so fast it failed to make the turn
. It
took to the air
and
land
ed
in a field.”

Alistair suddenly felt violently ill.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He gulped in air in a despera
te attempt to calm his stomach.

“
What if I were to tell you our intended target wasn’t driving?”

“Impossible!”

“I assure you it’s true.
I saw Anna MacDonald in the hotel this m
orning.
I even talked to her.”

Mac grabbed Grant by the front of his shirt.
“If this is some sort of sick game to avoid paying me, you’d better think again, your Lairdship.
I’ve already got blood on my hands
.
A
dding yours won’t make any difference.”

He knocked MacKinnon’s arms away, and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe MacKinnon’s spittle off his cheek.

“Check it out for yourself.
Although I should warn you
,
the police are setting up r
oad blocks.”

“But I saw the vehicle leave the road.”

“That may be so.
But incompetent fool that you are, you didn’t check to
see who was driving, did you?”

MacKinnon’s fist slammed into the wall.
“I didn’t think there was any need s
eeing how it was her Land Rover.
”

“God damn it!”
Grant’s eyes narrowed in rage.
“It’s a fucking disaster.
I’m ruined.
Completely ruined!
Well, don’t expect a penny more from me.”

“Shut up!
I’m trying to think.
There
has to be a way to sort this.”

“How?
I
—
”

Mac’s face was vicious.
“I said
shut up
!”

Alistair swallowed.
He’d been a fool to confront MacKinnon.
To hell with the estate and the family name
,
he should just cut his losses and run.
Then
what would he do?
Find a job?
Doing what?
The knot of hatred for his father tightened round his heart.
He watched MacKinnon pull a flask from
his hip pocket and take a swig.

“I don’t think getting drunk is the answer to our problem,” he said, breaking the silence.

Mac gulped down more from the flask and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Right, your Lairdship.
I’ve had a drink and a think, and I have an idea.
This is what we’ll do—
”

The unrelenting sun beat down on Anna’s back as she searched the undergrowth beneath the old birch, pine and spruce trees along the
granite-strewn
riverbank.
Luke and the dogs w
h
ere somewhere off to her right, out of sight, searching nearer to the road.
Hot, tired, but determined to carry on, she lifted the bottle of water and drank heartily.
It slipped from her finger
s when someone called her name.

Squinting into the sun, she stared at the person standing on the bank a short distance away, but couldn’t see who it was.
Ignoring the weight of her rucksack, she scrambled over boulders and pushed aside clumps of nettles in her frantic efforts to reach them.
Twice she fell, but managed to struggle to her feet.
She clawed her way up the bank and stopped on the edge of the field
to catch her breath
.

It was then she
recognize
d the figure.

“H
ello
,
Alistair.
Have you come to help with the search?”

“I’ve brought
you a message from Ewan.”

She wiped the sweat from her eyes.
“Why didn’t he call on the radio?”

“He tried, but the battery must be flat.
I volunteered to come and give you the message.”

“I see.
Here, help me take this off for a minute,” she replied, turning so he could pull the rucksack from her shoulders.
“Oh
,
God, that’s better
.
”
She
rotat
ed
her shoulders to ease the pain that had settled there.
“So, what’s the message?”

“
You’re to search the other side of the river.
Apparently, a hillwalker reported seeing a woman
matching
Mrs
.
McInnes’ description crossing the old footbridge over the gorge.
He said she was acting very strange, as if she was disorientated.”

“Are you sure?”
She gazed at the mountains that towered above the far bank of the river.
“That’s awfully rough terrain.
I th
ink the walker must be mistaken.
Mora
g would never take to the hills
.”

“I know
, my dear, it does seem strange. T
here could be any number of explanations as to why she might have
taken that direction
.
I’m only relaying the message.”

“Even so—
”

“E
very lead has t
o be followed.
You know that.”

“
Okay.
I’ll sit here for a moment
and
I get my breath
.
”
She
examin
ed
a deep scratch on her arm
and w
ondered whether to put an
Elastoplast
on it.
“Would you mind passing me my pack?
Thanks.”
She rinsed the dried blood off her arm, smeared on some antiseptic cream, and took a bite of a
high-energy
cereal bar.
“Are
you coming with me, Alistair?”

“I have to get back to the house.
I am doing my bit.
The mountain rescue service is due to arrive any moment.
I’ve said they can use Sandy’s old cottage as their base.
It will be a while until they get their comms—communications sorted out, so I’m acting as go-between.
I’ll join the sea
rch tomorrow, if it continues.”

“
I’m glad they’ve finally arrived
, w
e need all the help we can get.
This heat is unbearable.
I just wish
it
were
a little cooler.
I guess I better make a move.”
She took a long drink,
picked up her pack and tucked her hair into her baseball cap.
“Be sure to tell Luke I’m searching
the other bank if you see him.”

“I will.”

Aware that Anna was probably still watching, he resisted the temptation to wave
.
He
continued walking
,
his steps measured and unhurried.
Safely back in his car, he pulled the two-way radio out of the gl
ove box
and
changed the frequency.

“I’ve passed on the message
.
O
ver.
Anna’s heading up the gorge.”

He started the engine
and returned to Killilan House.

Under normal circumstances, Anna would have enjoyed the walk along the tumbling, foaming river, thundering through the deep gorge,
but today she gained no
pleasure from her surroundings.
At nearly two hundred feet deep and a mile and a half long, the gorge was a dangerous place even in summer
.
S
igns warned walkers to take great care on the narrow path.
The
moss and fern strewn walls rose sheer for seventy feet
, the
floor a mass of smooth granite boulders.
Close under the banks, small pools of brown water formed, topped with
a
peaty f
r
oth.
The air was heavy with t
he pungent scent of bog-myrtle.

Pausing now and then to catch her breath and scan the steep sides, she studied every projecting ledge and every visible nook and cranny.
She followed the rough track, worn into the bank by generations of walkers, sheep and deer.
The further she went, the steeper it became.
She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised
to see
how far sh
e ha
d
walked
.

Once or twice she thought she heard the uncanny double echo of boots on rocks, and the occasional snap of branches, but when she turned round to see if someone was
following her, she was alone.

An old, narrow wooden-decked suspension bridge spann
ed
the river at its narrowest point.
On summer days it was a
popular photo stop for those tourists with a good head for heights.
Anna found it deserted, except for the famous Scottish
‘
midge,
’
which swarmed over the roaring curtai
n of water that flowed beneath.

She walked across, the
bridge
creak
ing
and sway
ing
slightly under her weig
ht
.
She paused halfway
,
and leant over the rail
to
p
eer
down at the river below.
Once on the other side, Anna followed the twisting, arduous path through the trees, swatting ineffectively at the tiny buzzing insects that nibbled at her unprotected flesh.
Finally, no longer able to tolerate their itching bites, she sat on a boulder and slipped off her pack,
only to remember that Luke carried
the in
sect repellent in his rucksack.

She pulled out her map, checked her position and tried to understand why Morag might have come this way.
The more she thought about the reported sighting, the more perplexed she became.
The gorge was a good three miles from the road; even if disorientated Morag would have followed the road, rathe
r than head into the mountains.

A branch snapped.

A blackbird screeche
d in protest.
Anna spun round.

“
Hello?
Morag?
Morag is that—”

A hand clamped over her mouth.
An
iron-hard arm crushed her waist
and dragged her off the boulder.
She clawed at the unseen hands, her feet kicking wildly at whoever stood behind her.
She sank her teeth into her
captor’s palm
and drew
blo
od.
There was a muffled curse.

S
omething sla
mmed into the back of her head.

Her world exploded into a
million stars and went black.

“Anna!
Anna!”
Luke called, squatting down to examine the parallel markings in the grass.
Lines of concentration deepened along his brow.
These were vehicle tracks, n
o doubt about it.
The flattened grass was still relatively green.
He stood,
shifted the weight of his pack
and cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Anna!
Anna!”

No answer.
The air was still and heavy; perhaps his voice hadn’t carried to the riverbank.
He followed the tracks back to the bend in the road.
Shading his eyes against the sun, he looked back down the incline.
From up here, it was easy to see where
the tracks
crossed the field before disappearing into a stand of birch and pine trees.