by Vines, Jolie
I hustled faster, my heels clicking on the tiles.
Overhead, the lights failed, too. Now in almost complete darkness, I spun around. Another footstep fell, loud yet the owner invisible.
Someone was coming.
The hair on the back of my neck rose. Sweat broke out on my brow.
“Hello?” I called.
No reply.
I took a quick breath and kept moving, passing gaping, empty rooms. With every step, my wariness grew. My shoulders bunched automatically, and I could almost sense the touch of a stranger from the dark. Grasping me with a bruising grip. Hauling me through one of the doors along the route.
God, this was freaking me out.
With my papers clutched to my chest, I peered back again, not stopping. Still nothing but the tapping echo.
A door slammed.
I let out a shriek and took off, sprinting to the faint light at the end of the corridor. With a burst of energy, I flung myself into the stairwell and stared back.
An empty hall yawned.
No one pursued me.
My heart banged into my ribs, my breathing coming hard. Fuck. What the hell was that? My imagination or worse?
I set my jaw and swung to hit a fist to the manual light switches this end of the corridor. The overheads sprang to life.
“There,” I called into the empty space, feeling ridiculous. “Do ye think you’re funny? Come on out, if ye dare.”
Nothing moved, and my bravery slipped.
I turned and jogged the two flights of stairs to the office suite.
Jill, Rupert’s PA, waited at her desk. This woman had never once smiled or been friendly to me, but boy was I happy to see her. She peered up and gave me a slow once-over. Her blonde bob had the slick shininess of a fresh hairdressing appointment. I half considered complimenting her, but she’d probably sneer.
The fear in me receded, and I forced my mind back to the business of the day.
“Hi, Jill. Is Rupert in?” I said in a rush.
“You booked this meeting, didn’t you? Mr Gaskill is waiting.”
Okay then. I thanked her and pressed the office door aside, leaving it slightly ajar behind me.
Rupert lifted his head from his screen. “Caitriona. Thank you for coming.”
“Just Cait, please.” I’d told him this a hundred times. Few people used my full first name, and I didn’t want him to be one of them.
He gestured to the door. “Could you close us in? What we have to discuss might be…private. Better not to have anyone overhear.”
Ugh. I obliged then took a seat.
Rupert rounded the desk and settled into the chair right next to me.
His knee touched mine, the smooth material of his brown suit trousers brushing on my tights.
As subtly as I could, I shrank back.
“Your email from last week,” he started, his Birmingham accent making his words friendlier than I suspected they’d be. “I know at the time I acknowledged the request, and of course you have the right to pursue this avenue, should you choose, however, I wouldn’t feel I was doing my duty to you as your employer if I didn’t offer the best of my advice.”
Oh God. I’d informed Rupert, the other managers, and HR, that I’d need time out for appointments with the fertility clinic. It was part of the maternity terms and conditions, and I was entitled to the leave.
No part of my message invited discussion.
“That email was a notification only,” I said firmly.
“I understand, and parenthood is a blessing. One that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. Cait, we’ve known each other for a number of years now. You joined us as a fresh-faced graduate, and you’re still very young…”
He left the sentence trailing, like I should take something from his words.
“I’m sorry, was that a question?”
Rupert put his hand on the arm of my chair and inched forward.
Shite.
My discomfort deepened, and heat prickled me, returning in a rush from my earlier scare. I leaned back farther.
“I have two children,” he said, his eyes wide. “Beautiful. I pride myself on how well-made they are.”
Well-made? Was this guidance? Or…an offer?
“Both are bright. My son is strong-willed but dutiful. My daughter always receives compliments on her pretty face and lovely hair.”
“Why are ye telling me this?”
“Caitriona, it’s important for you to understand that you have options. Children don’t always turn out how you expect, no matter the planning. My brother, for example—”
I stopped listening, caught on the word ‘options’.
Abruptly, I stood, then slipped past Rupert to the door.
The urge to apologise came over me, and I forced it away. He’d made me uncomfortable, and I wasn’t at fault.
“Like I said, the email was a notification only. Thanks…” Don’t thank him. “I need to leave.”
Riding a wave of panic, I collected my possessions and exited. Jill stared from her desk, no doubt taking in my hot face, but I didn’t stop. Not for her, or for the other voice that hailed me as I left the building.
Whether my boss was or wasn’t my stalker, he’d just revealed an unhealthy degree of interest.
I marched straight back to my car and drove home, trying not to cry.
* * *
On my doorstep, a bunch of flowers lay propped against the door. I stopped in front of them, too alarmed to search for a note.
Had Rupert done this? Was it even him behind the weird acts? I clamped my hand to my mouth, nauseous.
Footsteps had me spinning around.
Lochinvar approached, a hand out. “Christ, lass, what’s wrong?”
Thank God.
Instant relief replaced the myriad other emotions. Which was strange, because after the drama he caused with yet another of my relatives last night, I ought to be annoyed.
An acute sense of safety warmed me instead.
I folded my arms against the intrusion. “Lochinvar. I wanted to talk to ye.”
He ran his gaze over me, lingering on my belly, then dug his fingers into his black hair. “Aye, I did with ye, too. Step aside, will ye?”
“What?”
He gestured for me to move, then when I did, he stooped and collected the bouquet. “Those are from me. And Isla, too. A thank ye and an apology.”
He held out the bunch of pretty, autumn-coloured blooms, and I stared.
“Those were from ye? Did ye think it might be a bad idea to leave them considering what I found at my home last week?”
He blinked, realisation dawning over his big features.
In a rush, my indignation returned. The events of the day had done a number on me, and I was ready to unleash it all. “While we’re here talking about bad manners, what the hell was that about last night? Ye launched at my cousin, were rude to him, and yet again inserted yourself into my business.”
The enormous mountain man drew a heavy breath. “I know.”
“Do ye really? Seems to me ye bulldoze your way through situations however ye please.”
“It had been a tough evening, the rescue a difficult one. Forget that. I have no excuse.”
I didn’t want him to be reasonable. I was fed up, but more, my blood zinged with increasingly frantic energy. Some new sensation I couldn’t understand but which urged me to continue this fight.
The last thought brought me up short. I had no reason to quarrel with this man. None at all. His crazy acts simply put him into a category of people I wouldn’t be friends with. I pulled back my shoulders.
“I get that we have to be neighbours, and I’m more than happy to look after your daughter, but I’d appreciate it if ye left me alone from now on.”
My chest heaved, and Lochinvar’s gaze darkened.
A moment passed between us where tension rose, tangible and warm. I flitted my gaze from Lochinvar’s piercing eyes to his clenched jaw. The way he looked at me�
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He proffered the bouquet once more, and I gritted my teeth.
I was so sick of men offering me things I didn’t ask for or need. My rational mind completely left me. “Do ye know what ye can do with those flowers?”
Lochinvar’s eyebrows rose, and he burst out with an amused chuckle.
He laughed? Oh hell no.
I spun on my heel and entered my home, slamming the door behind me.
* * *
For the next several days, my wish was granted. Whenever I saw Lochinvar outside the cottages, he’d dip his head in acknowledgement but not speak.
The intensity of his gaze didn’t let up, though.
Blayne dropped me a text to say Lochinvar had tracked him down and given him a well-worded apology. My cousin was easy-going but also a good judge of character. His description of my neighbour as a ‘solid guy’ didn’t go unnoticed.
One evening, the school brought Isla to me. It was only an hour before her father appeared from the mountains, bringing the scent of the wild outdoors with him.
He ushered Isla into their home but paused on his doorstep.
Why was I still waiting? I stopped all the same.
“I ken ye don’t want me to make conversation, but if there’s ever anything ye need, go ahead and ask. You’ve helped me a lot, and I can do the same for ye.”
The calm of the past few days had mellowed me some. I had no clue what had prompted Lochinvar’s gesture, but it was kind. Neighbourly.
“I appreciate that. Thanks for the offer.” I gave him a quick smile. “Goodnight.”
No answer came, and I didn’t wait around for more.
7
Lochinvar
Dawn spread over the landscape, faint light peeking under a heavy sky. I exited my Mountain Rescue Jeep and inflated my lungs with cool, crisp air. Snow would come soon, though we were barely halfway into October. With it, the complexity of my work would rise.
Wintery days brought freezing temperatures and drenching fog that rose from nowhere. With Gordain now having stepped back, I had a wealth of tasks to get on with. Planning. Training. Rotas. Volunteers and professionals I still needed to meet.
So why the fuck was my brain locked on to the enigmatic Cait McRae?
It had been a few weeks since our last conversation outside our homes, and beyond that, we’d barely spoken.
Everything about the lass intrigued me.
Her style—flowery dresses with a denim jacket and brown boots. Her fair hair usually tied up. Her friendliness to everyone who came by.
The scent of baking that wafted from her place. The way she’d warmed to my daughter and made our introduction to our new home ten times easier.
The way, over a month, no boyfriend had appeared, despite the fact Cait was pregnant.
Those little details had started to fascinate me. I shouldn’t have let them. I couldn’t allow the distraction.
I grumbled to myself and stomped down the mountain track. From the only other car in this isolated spot, a dog barked.
Her owner popped the door and climbed out, releasing his animal from a harness.
The brown-and-white Collie, a member of our crew, bounded up to me then shot away to sit by the door of the building we’d come to see. She gave another bark, and Cameron McRae ducked his head in greeting.
“Mr Ross,” he said. Then he indicated to his dog. “Ellie’s keen to get inside.”
“Lead on. Show me the place,” I asked.
Cameron directed me into the small cottage I’d wanted to see. Hill House was vacant of residents and used as an area command centre. In its position high above a glen, it had excellent views but was cut off by a rocky ridge above and thick forests meeting heather-strewn slopes below. It made a good base for rescues in this part of our reach.
I stooped under the low doorway and poked my head into the basic downstairs rooms. Cameron pointed out the generator for power, space for multiple agencies to meet, and supplies for restocking. It all appeared in order.
He led me into what must’ve originally been the front room.
As well as wanting to see the house, I also wanted to get to know this lad. Despite my reservations, he’d impressed me over the past month and, as Gordain had noted, Cameron showed up for almost every call. He’d been a key asset. His animal, too.
From under the table, the dog watched us, all aquiver, and with her attention locked on her owner.
I lifted my chin to Cameron. “How long have ye had her?”
“Three years.”
“She has a good track record.”
“Aye. Same as her owner.” He gave me a thoughtful look but didn’t elaborate on his statement.
This was a big part of my needing one-on-one time with him. I’d seen him follow instruction and manage others with quiet words, typically with a serious expression to his blue eyes that belied his age. Gordain had told me how Cameron had been six foot at thirteen and joined the volunteer team at sixteen, despite being too young to go out on the hill. He knew the locale like the back of his hand, and nothing fazed him. He didn’t yammer on like other people his age, and his capabilities were plain.
With anyone else, I’d expect to have this explained to me in detail in an attempt to impress. Not Cameron.
He reminded me of myself.
I liked this stoic young man. Right now, he was about the age I’d been when my life had turned upside down.
“I’ve been covering off the terrain over the past couple of weeks,” I said. “Hiking the areas that come up most in incident reports.”
Cameron dipped his head in approval.
“The peak beyond this cabin features a lot in winter. Can ye tell me why?”
He rubbed his square jaw, his gaze flitting to the window. “When there’s snow on the ground, the wide glen with the access road makes a picturesque walk. Ye can go deep into the mountains from here, and there’s a hidden waterfall within an hour’s trek. Signal’s shite, though, and the weather can change in a heartbeat. The windchill knocks people on their arses. The cold drains their energy, and they find they can’t get back to their cars. Then if the granite’s naw sticky, the tracks have poor footing. Under snow, it can be a death trap.”
Cameron talked me through the rescues he’d attended here, and I ran over the details of the reports I’d read. They were typically the more straightforward kind—extracting a hypothermic or injured person to medical care via a rolling stretcher—though there had been a winch operation by helicopter once or twice, too.
We were well into the detail when his dog sat up, her ears pricking. She barked once.
Cameron stood and moved to the window. He peered out then went to the door, checking the road. When he returned, his eyebrows drove together. “Strange. Ellie’s telling me someone’s here. She did the same a few weeks ago when we were on a supply run, and she’s rarely wrong.”
“Could be a passerby?”
“Aye. Maybe they’re out of sight.” He didn’t look convinced.
I had no idea why, but Cait’s graffitied door sprang to mind. “What day were ye here before?”
“I’ll check.” Cameron pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, the screen lighting up with a picture of a smiling lass.
“Your girlfriend?” I asked.
Pink spots appeared on his cheeks, and he huffed a laugh, quickly moving on to his calendar app. “I wish.”
The urge came over me to warn him to keep himself to himself for a few years more. Not that his life was any of my concern, but entanglements brought an end to youth. Freedom replaced with constant vigilance and worry. I’d never regret my life, because Isla was my world, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else either.
“Here.” Cameron gave me the date: the day we’d arrived in the Highlands. The same time Cait’s door had been painted.
My sense of misgiving increased. This time, I wasn’t about to expose Cait’s business to yet another of her relatives. Her cousin, Blayne, had accepted my apology, an
d he’d shown deep concern over what had happened. As anyone would. I wished I knew what action Cait had taken. Whether she’d discovered anything.
If it hadn’t been a local, could the perpetrator have hidden out here?
The dog gave another bark. Cameron stood taller.
“Does anyone use this building bar us?” I scanned the rooms again.
“No. They shouldnae.” He gestured to his dog. “Ellie, seek.”
As if rocket-powered, she launched away and scampered up the stairs, her claws clacking on the bare wooden treads.
We jogged after her.
The dog made a beeline for a doorway. In the corner of a bedroom, a sleeping bag laid rolled up on the floorboards. She sat next to it and barked once.
Cameron ruffled the fur on Ellie’s head in praise. “No wonder she was quivering. I instructed her to rest, but she was on edge.”
I picked up the sleeping bag, revealing empty packets of energy bars and a flattened can. A quick examination provided no further clues. No name label that would be there for the property of a scout. No red paint smears, though the likelihood would’ve been small.
“Was this here before?” I asked.
“Naw last month, I ken that for sure.”
“Do ye know of any reason someone would stay here overnight?”
“Not on-crew. It’s not kitted out for that. We’d change teams and send people home,” Cameron added.
“I’ll take it away and bin it. Dinna want to encourage anyone to come back.” I bundled up the mess and took it to my car.
For the next hour, Cameron escorted me on a circular walk around the hill before we went our separate ways.
I drove back the few miles to my cottage, my mind churning over and making connections.
I didn’t believe in coincidences, but I couldn’t be sure if this was relevant to Cait’s problem. Or how I’d find out.
* * *
Cait’s car waited in its usual spot, next to where I parked. She was home. I had an hour until I needed to collect Isla so mulled over going to speak to my neighbour. Yet feverish energy infected me, and I couldn’t shake it off. I needed to burn it up before I could stand in front of the woman who’d claimed my peace of mind.
