The Loch

by Heather Atkinson

  He looked in the direction of the cottage but it wasn’t in sight. This point wouldn’t be any use for keeping watch on the house, so he walked a bit more south, the white walls of the cottage coming into view about thirty feet away from the pontoon. There were plenty of tall trees, so ample places to hide and watch, not that he or Isla could have seen anyone crouching here watching them, certainly not without binoculars anyway.

  He began searching the ground, looking for signs of anyone waiting here. There were a few twigs crushed underfoot, a few leaves disturbed but that could have been done by animals. Silently he thanked his Uncle Al for the times he’d taken him camping in the woods and taught him to read his surroundings.

  As he made his way up the incline he realised how stupid his big idea had been. The ground became increasingly steep and even though he was in good shape he soon found himself out of breath. He couldn’t imagine anyone carrying an unconscious person up here, even someone as small as Isla, not unless they were The Hulk. The undergrowth had been disturbed but he knew that was from the search party looking for her.

  Feeling defeated, he returned to the boat and sailed back to the cottage. As he tied the boat up at the jetty he spied Neil knocking at the front door of the cottage, his police car on the drive. Mike thought it would be prudent if he didn’t see the shotgun, so he placed it in a storage chest in the cabin. He also decided to leave the backpack behind and he locked the cabin door, despite the fact that someone could easily pry it open with a penknife.

  “I wish you lived on the other side of the loch,” Neil grumpily told him as he reached the cottage. “This road is knackering my suspension.”

  “We like the isolation,” he replied. “Did you come for anything specific?”

  “Aye, a couple of things actually - number one, you chucking out all the police and number two, you threatening a bunch of journalists with a shotgun.”

  “If you want me to apologise I won’t. I enjoyed both of those things.”

  “Thank Christ none of the journalists are pressing charges.”

  “They can’t anyway, they were trespassing.”

  “That is one reason why not. They’re all also currently writing about their traumatic experience ready for print, so everyone will know what you did.”

  “Good. It’ll make sure no more of the cockroaches try to sneak up on the house.”

  “It will also make you look like a violent individual, which is the last image you want to project right now. Where have you been so early anyway?”

  “Out on the boat. I needed to clear my head.”

  “I hope it worked because judging by that stupid stunt you pulled it needs a good clearing,” he snapped bad-temperedly, sending red orbs bouncing before Mike’s eyes.

  “Come in and have a coffee,” said Mike, unlocking the front door.

  Before doing anything else he checked every room but still nothing of Isla’s had been left and he experienced a twinge of panic. What if nothing was ever left again? Did that mean she was dead? He shivered and headed into the kitchen to make the coffee, the familiar routine of boiling the water and preparing the cups calming him a little.

  “Why did you chuck the police out?” said Neil, following him into the kitchen.

  “Because they’re useless.”

  “You need professionals looking for Isla.”

  “They have been looking and what have they found? Her hat and a mitten, that’s it. I’m sick of them. I’m going to find her on my own.”

  “You?”

  “Don’t look so sceptical,” he retorted, pouring out the coffee.

  “So you’re going to search all the isolated countryside around the loch all by yourself, are you?”

  “If I have to.”

  “It’s impossible, you need help.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t have a choice in this. The police have to investigate.”

  “They can, just as long as they stay away from me.”

  “I can see I’m not going to change your mind, so I won’t bother trying. But if any more of Isla’s things do turn up or you have another intruder, you must report it. If you don’t want to go to Stewart then come to me.”

  “I will,” he said, the kettle clicking off as it boiled, steam filling the room, misting the window looking out onto the loch.

  “Or you could come and stay at my place.”

  “So you can keep an eye on me?”

  “No,” said Neil indignantly. “To make sure you’re safe. You can’t stay here alone after your home has been repeatedly broken into.”

  “Would Helen agree to that? She guards her privacy like a rottweiler.”

  “An appropriate comparison,” replied Neil good-naturedly. “And it was her idea.”

  “Tell her thanks but no. I want to be here alone when the intruder comes back,” said Mike darkly, slamming down the kettle, black streaking across his vision. “I want him all to myself so I can make him tell me where she is.”

  “I get that, really I do. I’d feel the same way if someone had my Helen but you’re a graphics designer Mike, not Rambo. You’re a big bloke but they could still end up killing you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Jesus, you’re so bloody stubborn. If you’re not careful it’s going to be your downfall.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Mike, handing him his coffee. “Worry about Isla.”

  “I am worried about her. Every reported sighting of her has been a dud. The last sighting was in Inverary but it turned out to be a tourist twenty years older than her. Every time someone sees a woman with long red hair they’re calling it in without double-checking and wasting our resources. It’s driving me mad. Sometimes the public can be more of a hindrance than a help.”

  “There’s no point checking Inverary because Isla’s here, she must be.”

  “What makes you so sure?” replied Neil, trying not to think about what Stewart had told him of his suspicions of Mike’s guilt.

  “Because what would be the point in taking her up there only to drive over an hour with pieces of her clothing? They’re staying nearby so they can watch the house and find the best times to sneak in with her stuff.”

  “That makes sense,” he was forced to concede.

  “This isn’t some passing nutjob who saw a chance and took it. It was someone who knows we like to sit out on the boat in the evening while it’s moored to the jetty, someone who knows the layout of our house and the surrounding land, someone who’s been inside our home and knows where we keep the coffee. In short, it’s a local, probably even a friend.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone around here doing something so twisted. And there’s one possibility you left out.”

  “What’s that?” said Mike, left eye twitching slightly as he thought he was about to be accused of hurting her.

  “That Isla’s doing this herself. You have to consider it,” he pressed when Mike shook his head.

  “She’s not. This isn’t like her.”

  “You’ve known each other eighteen months. Can you honestly say you really know everything about a person in that length of time?”

  “I know enough. Isla would not do this to me.”

  “You get two hundred grand if she dies but she also gets the same.”

  Mike grabbed him by the shirtfront and slammed him up against the wall.

  “Now take it easy Mike,” said Neil, holding up his hands.

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” he snarled.

  “I have to consider every possibility. It’s my job and I won’t apologise for that.”

  Mike grunted and released him.

  Neil massaged his lower back with a grimace. “I won’t arrest you for assaulting a police officer.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “I’m not worried. I’m the one with the incapacitant spray,” he said, patting the can attached to his belt. “So, I’ll ask you one last time - are you going to see sense
and let someone stay here with you, or are you going to come back to mine?”

  “You already know what my answer is,” replied Mike, sipping his coffee.

  “Right, fine. No one can say I didn’t try but if something happens to you then on your head be it.”

  “I’ve no problem with that.”

  Neil studied him with his head cocked to one side, putting Mike in mind of a spaniel. “You look different.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, more confident, stronger. The last time I saw you I genuinely thought you were on the verge of a breakdown, it’s one reason why me and Helen decided to invite you to stay.”

  “I’m not going to breakdown, not when Isla needs me. I finally feel like I have a purpose now. Stewart and his clowns wouldn’t let me get a look in, they just told me to sit by the phone feeling useless. Now I’m in control again. I’m not a control freak but there’s nothing worse than wanting to help the person you love most in the world and not being able to do anything about it.”

  Neil nodded. “I can only imagine. Anyway, I want to hang around here for a bit if you don’t mind, do some more checking around the house.”

  “Help yourself. I’m off out anyway.”

  “Where?”

  “Just into Strachur. I need more supplies.”

  “I thought you’d only just got some?”

  “I did but I didn’t get enough.”

  “You could always order some in from a supermarket. They’re better stocked than that little shop. Or wouldn’t it be better to go into Dunoon where there are more shops?”

  “I don’t need much.”

  “You’re not going into the village for any other reason, are you?”

  “No,” said Mike innocently.

  “I don’t believe you. I hope you’re not taking the shotgun with you?”

  “Course not.”

  “Where is it by the way?”

  “Safely locked away.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to your friend, would you?”

  “No.” Mike reasoned he wasn’t lying because it was locked away, just in the boat.

  He left before Neil could ask any more questions, got into his Land Rover and drove off. The press were still gathered at the top of the drive, although their numbers had shrunk. Sloss however was still there, the persistent dick. At least they had the sense not to approach the house again. He glared at them, daring them to approach the car but they didn’t, not even Sloss. Mike gunned the engine, wheels spinning and sped off up the road.

  The village of Strachur might have been a forty minute drive away but Mike was going to concentrate his search around it. Isla had been born and raised in that village, so she knew most of the residents. They were part of her life, they knew her and had been invited into their home. When they’d moved into the cottage they’d had a house warming party so Mike could get to know Isla’s friends. Her brother had even come back from a dig in Egypt so he could be part of it. Mike had worried he’d be upset that their grandmother had left the cottage to Isla and not him but he hadn’t wanted it because he was rarely in Scotland anyway, he spent most of his time travelling the world with work, which was his obsession. Their mother had already died of a brain haemorrhage seven years prior and their father had passed away when they were very young. Their only other relative had been their grandfather but he’d run off with another woman twenty years prior and no one had seen him since, so there had been no one else to leave the cottage to.

  Everyone had been so friendly at the housewarming party. Isla had left the area for four years to live in Edinburgh, so she could be nearer work but she’d dreamed of returning to the loch, she didn’t like city life, as incredible a place as Edinburgh was. It was why her grandmother had chosen to leave the cottage to her, she knew Isla would appreciate the beloved home she’d lived in most of her life. The move meant she hadn’t been able to play as much with the orchestra but the private work she took on compensated for that.

  Mike thought back to that night. No one had bothered that he was American, they’d welcomed him as though he’d lived in the village for years. Due to the size of the cottage Isla had only been able to invite those she was closest to. As it had been a pleasant summer evening they’d set up a small marquee in the large back garden, so they could accommodate a few more guests. There had been Phoebe and Jake of course, Joyce from the shop and Billy from the café. He and Billy had hit it off immediately, Mike feeling like he’d known him for years. They had a lot in common, including a love of hunting. Mike had faithfully kept his promise to Isla that he would never take the life of another living creature again, apart from the spider he’d accidentally squashed underfoot one day in the utility room. He recalled with fondness how she’d treated that tiny crumpled corpse with such reverence, carrying it outside in her bare hands and placing it beneath one of the rose bushes. Most people would have thought she was being silly but it had only made him fall in love with her even more.

  He dragged his mind back to the night of the housewarming party. There had been Colonel Arundel, the upright, middle-aged man who did everything with military precision, including using his organisational skills to suck the fun out of the drinking games they’d played. Malcolm Thomson, the local joiner, as well as a few other guests, good friends of Isla’s gran who Mike was ruling out of his investigation as they were too old and decrepit to be the kidnapper. There had also been two other couples their own age, the women in each couple friends of Isla’s since school. However Phillipa, one of the women, had been a proper bitch, casting a disapproving eye over their eclectic range of furniture and commenting on how poky the house was. Her husband Alex, a wealthy banker, had seemed embarrassed by his wife’s behaviour, although he’d said nothing to her about it. In Mike’s opinion he was pleasant but a drip of the first order. Phillipa’s attitude had upset Isla but she’d refused to show it at the time, maintaining her sweet demeanour despite the provocation. Only when all their guests had left did she let rip about what a snobby cow her old friend had become. Fortunately Hannah, her other old friend, had been sweet and kind, even staying behind after the party to help tidy up. Mike had got on with her husband Will, who was also a keen outdoorsman.

  Mike gripped the steering wheel tighter, his smile grim and humourless. He was looking forward to paying them all a visit one by one.

  CHAPTER 9

  Mike parked the Land Rover beside the convenience store and strode inside, this time determined to take no crap from Macbeth’s witches.

  The three of them were gathered at the till, giving him their shallow concerned smiles. Only Joyce worked in the shop. He had no idea what the other two did all day except hang around here discussing other people’s lives. Sad really.

  “Good to see you Mike,” said Joyce with false sincerity. “What can I get you?”

  “Nothing. I want information.”

  She blinked at him. “Information? About what?”

  “When was the last time you saw Isla?”

  “Excuse me, if you’re trying to insinuate…”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m trying to piece together her last movements. When did you last see her?”

  There was a new steel in this usually gentle man’s eyes that made her feel she should tell him what he wanted to know. “Err, it was in here three days before she disappeared. You should know, you were with her.”

  “Yeah I was but I left her to talk to Billy in the café. What happened when I wasn’t here?”

  “Mike,” said Emily. “What is this about? Why are you asking Joyce these odd questions?”

  “I’ll get to you in a minute,” he retorted, never taking his eyes off Joyce. “Well, what happened?”

  “Nothing much,” said Joyce. “We had a chat about the weather and the Colonel’s war with Malcolm Thomson over the extensions they’re both building in their gardens. Oh and about the arguments Hannah McNair’s having with her husband.” She nodded at a cottage across the road. “Some
times we can hear them in here, it gets so loud.”

  “So you were gossiping,” replied Mike, knowing how much Isla would have hated that, she loathed gossip.

  “No,” she retorted grandly. “Just discussing the day’s events.”

  “And then what?”

  “She paid and left.”

  “Did anyone else come into the shop while she was here?”

  “Err, the Colonel did because we were talking about his extension at the time.”

  “Did they speak?”

  “They said hello but he was raging about something Malcolm had done to his vegetable patch so she left, just in time too because Malcolm came in just after she’d gone and got into a dreadful row with the Colonel.”

  “What had Malcolm done to his vegetable patch?” said Vicky.

  “Thrown weed killer all over it. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “I think I would have remembered that one,” she said, eyes dancing with pleasure.

  “And what about you?” Mike asked Vicky, interrupting their conversation. “When did you last see Isla?”

  “The day before she vanished,” she replied without hesitation. “I was shopping in Dunoon and I bumped into her in the street. She said she was in a hurry and had to get home, so she couldn’t stop and chat.” She gave Mike an odd look, as though it was his fault she’d had to hurry home. However he knew it was because she hadn’t wanted to talk to Vicky because she would have kept her there all day.

  “And you?” he asked Emily. “When did you last see her?”

  “The day she disappeared,” she replied more timidly than her friends. She had more sensitivity about her than the other two. “I was just leaving Balliemeanoch Farm after visiting my friend. She stopped and asked if I wanted a lift home. I thanked her and said I’d walk because it was such a nice day and my doctor had told me I need more exercise.”

  Her large blue eyes were sad, her smile gentle as she recalled the event. “She’s so big-hearted, always has been, right from being a bairn.”

  “Yes she is,” replied Mike gently, touched by the tenderness in her gaze. The wind taken out of his sails, he thanked them and left the shop, heading next door to the café.