by Amy M. Reade
“Chloe mentioned that you had taken a leave from your job. No one knows where you are, and I think some of your colleagues are a wee bit worried.” I had the feeling he wasn’t telling the truth. “Have you been following me?” I asked him, feeling a little more courageous now that I knew the source of the noises I had heard in the woods.
“I have,” he answered. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I know you’re a photographer, and I saw you come into the woods and head down toward the shore. I figured you’d know the most beautiful places, so I followed you.”
“You should have announced yourself,” I said. “I could have talked to you about the loch, given you some tips on where to go next.”
“It seemed like you were trying to be quiet, to take pictures, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Something about this conversation was unreal. I was sure he was lying, and he probably suspected my thoughts, but I continued speaking to him as if I believed him and he believed me.
“Well, it was nice running into you, Hagen. I have to be getting home. Take care of yourself.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, reaching for my arm. I pulled it out of his grasp.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Tell me what you know about the painting.”
I didn’t bother pretending not to know which painting he was referring to. “I don’t know anything about it, and I don’t know where it is.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t know what happened to the painting after Florian was killed?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Now I have to leave.” I marched away quickly, only looking back once or twice to see if he was watching me. He was. I shivered. I wouldn’t be venturing into the woods again soon, no matter how lovely the view.
When I returned to Gorse Brae Eilidh was waiting for me. “Chloe phoned,” she said. “She tried to reach you on your mobile, but it went right to voicemail.”
“Did she leave a message?”
“She just said she was trying to find you.”
I tried calling her back, but there was no answer. Her phone went straight to voicemail, too. I left her a message asking her to ring me up when she got a chance.
I spent the rest of the day going through the photos I had taken at the loch. Some were very good, some were just average. My favorites were always the ones with heavy dark and light contrasts, but those photos weren’t always my customers’ favorites. I’d put all kinds of pictures online and had discovered an audience for each type.
Chloe rang me up that night as I was getting ready for bed. Mum had announced that she would be going back to Dumfries in a couple days, so she and I had stayed up late talking. I hated the thought of her leaving—I had gotten used to having her around and suddenly I didn’t want her to go.
“Sylvie, you’ll never guess what happened. Remember Thea? Hagen’s ex-wife? She was found murdered in her house.” Chloe said breathlessly.
I was stunned. “Do they know who did it?”
“The police don’t know. Her body was found yesterday. She had been dead for several days.”
“I can’t believe it. Because you’ll never guess what happened to me today. I was in the woods down by the loch taking pictures, and who should be following me but Hagen!”
“You saw Hagen?” She sounded incredulous.
I nodded as I spoke. “Yes. He looked terrible. He hadn’t shaved in ages and he was dressed in clothes that looked as if he’d slept in them for days.”
“The police have been looking for him everywhere down here,” Chloe said.
“Will you tell them to come up here?”
“I have to. They say he’s not a suspect, that they’re looking for him because they want to talk to him.”
“You know what it means when the police say they just want to talk to someone. I’m sure he’s a suspect. How could he not be?”
“He’ll be crushed when he hears the news,” Chloe said.
“If he doesn’t know already,” I said pointedly. “If he knows, he must also know the police are looking for him. And yet he chose to disappear and come up to the Highlands, allegedly to get back to nature.”
“Where did you say he was?” Chloe asked.
I told her I had been walking near the shore of Cauld Loch when I saw him. It wouldn’t be long, I knew, before the peace of our tiny village was disrupted again, this time with police looking for a possible murder suspect. The world was indeed becoming a scarier place.
I was right—it was only an hour or so, during which I tried unsuccessfully to sleep, before I heard sirens breaking the silence of the darkness, no doubt speeding toward the woods by the loch and their grimy inhabitant. I texted Chloe to let her know the police had wasted no time in their search for Hagen.
Let me know if they find him, will you? she replied.
I don’t know if I’ll even find out, but I’ll text you if I learn anything. I answered.
The next day I drove by the loch, hoping to see some evidence of activity that I could report to Chloe. There were several police cars parked along the side of the road near the spot where I had exited the woods, but no sign of any people. I wondered if they had found the elusive professor yet.
Later that afternoon I checked the local news online. Indeed, a man wanted for questioning in connection with a crime in London, a Dr. Hagen Ridley, had been apprehended in the woods near Cauld Loch. I texted Chloe with the news. She was grateful, and said she would pass the information along to the people in Hagen’s department who were worried about him.
Seamus had seen the news, too, and he came straight to Gorse Brae to talk about it.
“You’ve heard about Hagen, I assume?” he asked as he came in through the door of the shop.
“Yes. Chloe called last night and told me the whole story.”
“Do you think he did it? Murdered his ex-wife?”
“How would I know that?”
“You met him.”
“So did you.”
“Aye, but don’t women have a sense about those things?”
“I wouldn’t think so. Otherwise all crimes would be solved by women and their ‘sense,’” I answered, wiggling my fingers like a magician.
“Och, you know what I mean. You read people better than men.”
“Sometimes,” I conceded. I didn’t add, If I read people so well, how come I didn’t know about Rose?
As if he was reading my mind, Seamus blushed and looked away.
“How did you hear about Hagen?” I asked, trying to find a way to peek through the curtain that had suddenly fallen between us.
“Saw it online. I wonder how the police knew to look up here.”
“I saw him yesterday in the woods, that’s how.”
Seamus looked at me in shock, his mouth agape. “You saw him yesterday?” he repeated.
I nodded. “I was down by the loch trying to get some good shots and he appeared behind me.”
“He just happened to bump into you?” Seamus asked, a skeptical look on his face.
“He had been following me.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? Why has anything happened lately? Because of that Leitch painting, that’s why.”
“What did he say?”
“At first he tried telling me that he wanted to get back to nature, and that he followed me because he knew I was trying to take photos. But I didn’t buy it, and I think he realized it. Eventually he fessed up and asked what I knew about the painting. I told him I didn’t know anything.”
“And he just accepted that and walked away?”
“No. I walked away. He watched me leave.”
“Och, you shouldn’t have been in the woods by yourself, Sylvie.”
“I know that, but I’ve never had an issue in the past. It’s always been peaceful and quiet down by the loch.”
“Please take someone with you next time.”
“I will.” I expected him to suggest taking him, but he
didn’t.
Seamus didn’t say anything for a few moments, and the silence started to feel awkward. “Are you staying here to work this afternoon?” I finally asked.
“If it’s all right with you. I’m working on a big piece, one that’s too big to paint at Callum and Eilidh’s house.”
“That’s fine. I’ll do something in the shop.”
“You can stay in the studio. It would be nice to have you in there with me.” His tone was light, hopeful.
“I don’t think so, Seamus. Not yet.” It was getting easier to say that to him, even with the look of sadness that crossed his face when he turned to go into the studio.
“Where’s your mum?” he asked, turning around at the doorway of the studio.
“She left this morning.”
“Oh. I didn’t know she was leaving.”
“I’m sure she wanted to say goodbye, but with things the way they are right now, it was probably best for her not to.”
“Oh.”
I left him alone while he worked and eventually went into the kitchen to make dinner for myself. I was stirring the contents of a pot when Seamus poked his head in.
“I’m headed back. Anything you need done here?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“What are you making?”
“Tomato soup.”
“From a can?” he sounded incredulous.
“Yes, from a can,” I replied testily.
“At least let me show you an easy way to have homemade soup. Throw that rubbish away,” he said, pointing to the pan.
I looked dubiously at him. “I don’t mind tomato soup from a can,” I said.
“It’s horrible. Get rid of it. I promise you’ll like mine better.”
I shrugged. I was secretly happy he had caught me making my dinner. I wasn’t looking forward to soup from a can, but now that Mum wasn’t doing the cooking I didn’t know how I was going to survive. I didn’t know how to cook a thing. Mum had tried to teach me a thousand times, but I was lucky enough to have married a man who knew his way around a kitchen.
And I had kicked him out.
This didn’t mean I was letting him come back to Gorse Brae—it simply meant I was accepting his help in becoming more self-sufficient, more independent.
He sautéed onion and garlic, then added a large can of tomatoes, some broth, a wee splash of cream, and salt and pepper. He handed me the immersion blender and showed me how to use it. It was easy—and fun. We didn’t talk much while we worked side by side, but the silence wasn’t unbearable. It wasn’t a comfortable situation, but it wasn’t terribly awkward, either.
While the soup was simmering I cut thick slices of bread and offered to let Seamus stay for dinner. To my surprise, he said he would go back to Callum and Eilidh’s house and eat there. I thanked him for helping me and he left.
While I ate I contemplated everything going on with Seamus. Was it possible he was getting along fine without me? Did he miss me?
I thought about ringing up Eilidh and asking her, but it seemed such a teenaged thing to do that just thinking about it embarrassed me.
I had no choice but to accept that I was by myself for the present, and I would have to get used to it. Maybe it’ll get easier, I thought.
But when it came time to get ready for bed, I was afraid. Memories of Florian’s murder, the attack in the cottage, of Alice’s visit, and of Hagen’s mysterious appearance in the Highlands crowded their way into my mind and prevented me from falling asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened the last time I was alone for a night—the night Seamus went camping in the Cairngorms. The attack had been horrifying, and as I lay in my bed, listening for every sound, I tried to think of happier times. I thought about the day Seamus and I were married, the day Greer was reunited with Ellie after Neill had kidnapped her, and the fun I had had with Felix and Chloe when they visited. I thought about getting together with Greer on trips to Edinburgh and came up with a bucket list of places I wanted to photograph.
Eventually sleep came, but it didn’t last long.
The phone rang in the middle of the night. It was Eilidh. She was crying.
“Sylvie, I’m so sorry to bother you at this hour,” she sobbed.
“Eilidh, what’s wrong?” I threw off the covers and propped myself up on one arm, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. When light flooded the room I blinked, still confused.
“Callum and I had a fight.”
“About what?”
“My job at your shop. He thinks I should be looking for something in accounting, like I had before.”
“Why? Doesn’t he approve of you working in our shop?”
“He just thinks I could make more money if I had a full-time job that didn’t fluctuate with the seasons.”
“But your job with us is a stable position—we talked about that, remember? Seamus has made enough money that we don’t have to worry about being able to pay an employee… an assistant,” I corrected myself. I didn’t want Eilidh to think we considered her to be nothing more than an employee.
“I think he wants me to have a job that sounds more posh, not just working in a shop somewhere.”
“Do you want to come over?” I asked. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand.
“I’d better not leave. He’d be mad.”
“What can I do to help you?”
“Nothing, I guess. I was just so upset. I needed to talk to someone and Seamus isn’t really an option. I don’t want to ask him to take sides when he’s staying right here in our house.”
“Come over in the morning. I’ll make tea. We can talk then.”
“Okay,” she sniffled. “I’ll be there early.”
I never did get back to sleep after she called. I was worried about her—she was such a sweet soul, and she didn’t take criticism well. Callum, for as much as he loved her, sometimes didn’t think before he spoke. I wondered if she would start looking for another job. I had gotten used to having someone around the shop to do the little, time-consuming chores I didn’t have time for when I was working on my photography. And it was nice to have some company, as much as I was trying to get accustomed to being alone.
I was on my third cup of tea by the time Eilidh showed up in the morning. I had spent the rest of my night watching television, and a very dull show at that. If that show couldn’t put me to sleep, nothing would.
Eilidh’s eyes were red and puffy when she walked in. She turned to face me and sniffled, placing a tissue against the end of her nose.
“I’ve cried so much my nose hurts,” she said with a little smile.
I put my arms around her. “I’m sure Callum was just in a foul mood and he took it out on you. I bet you’ll find that he’s in a much happier frame of mind today. Have you seen him?”
“No. He left for work whilst I was in the shower.”
“You’ll see him later. Maybe the two of you can talk things over.”
“Here’s my problem, Sylvie: If you and Seamus aren’t living together right now, why should it be any easier for me and Callum? You and Seamus are the last people anyone thought would have problems.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. I thought for a few moments before answering. “Seamus and I are going through a rough patch, that’s for sure. But it’s because of a lie. Or a deception, or whatever you want to call it. That’s the difference. There’s been no lying between you and Callum—just a disagreement over money, and lots of couples deal with that. And they get through the problems just fine. And so will you and Callum.” I gave her another squeeze.
Eilidh was subdued the rest of the day. She didn’t engage with the customers in her usual jovial way, and she moped around like her world was coming to an end. Finally I pulled her aside and told her to go into the kitchen, ring up Callum at work, and talk to him.
“Your glum face is driving away business,” I told her with a smile. She managed to smile in return and left.
She didn’t come back for over thirt
y minutes, during which time I happily waited on customers and talked to them about art and photography. I gave them the experience they expected to have in a Highlands art shop.
“Well, how did it go?” I asked when the only remaining customer had left. “You certainly look happier—you’re smiling, and you look more relaxed.”
She beamed. “Callum apologized for everything and wants to take me out to dinner. He’s so sweet. He said it was all his fault—which it was—and that he’s lucky to be married to me.”
It didn’t take much to appease Eilidh, I decided. I was a little disappointed that she should accept his apology so readily, but I had to remind myself that Eilidh and I were different, and just because I expected more from Seamus didn’t mean she needed to expect more from Callum.
That night I finished the soup Seamus had made, wondering if I should make it last another day so I wouldn’t have to worry about dinner the next night. But it was too good—I decided I would handle tomorrow’s dinner somehow. I spent a quiet evening in the cottage after making sure the doors were locked and the closets were empty of people. I don’t know what I would have done if I had actually found someone in one of the closets, but I felt better after I had checked.
I had just curled up to watch television when my mobile phone rang. It was Chloe. She had talked to Hagen.
“First of all, is he still near here, or is he back in London?” I asked.
“He’s in London.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. “So has he been arrested?” I asked.
“No. He talked to Scotland Yard and they let him go. I don’t know what to think about the whole situation.”
“Tell me what he told you.”
“I was actually a little surprised to hear from him. I thought he’d call family, but I think he feels comfortable talking to me.
“He and Thea divorced about five years ago. He dated a few women over those years, but nothing serious. He and Thea remained friends throughout that time.
“Recently—within the past few months—Hagen mentioned that he and Thea were having dinner together. After that night, her name began coming up more often, and before long he told me that things were heating up and that he had been spending lots of time with her.”
“She lives in London? I mean, she lived in London?”
