Under the rafters of the castle’s great hall, several McRaes regarded me, including Gordain on a live video call. Christmas decorations sparkled around us, their jauntiness at odds with the scene playing out.
Serious expressions.
Grim energy.
Our war council had commenced.
Caitriona’s ma had taken Isla upstairs to play dress-up with a box of costumes Mathilda kept for her grandchildren. Caitriona herself perched on the chair nearest to me. At my side, in the way I always wanted her to be.
That conversation couldn’t come soon enough.
Cameron breathed hard, settling into a seat. The final person to arrive, he’d hammered at the locked front door, tiredness darkening his eyes. Last night, a while after I’d got back to the estate, he’d had a call-out—a genuine one—but with hours overnight spent helping a couple off the hill.
I’d scanned the details as I ate my bacon sandwich, beyond impressed with what I’d read. Cameron was a natural leader, and the careful way he now visually checked me over, then moved on to Caitriona, showed me his innate skills.
I gave him a short nod, getting a smile in exchange.
“As ye know,” I began. “Yesterday, an unknown subject approached the primary school and tried to take my daughter.”
Fresh alarm rippled over the family. Caitriona stiffened and reached for my hand, squeezing my fingers. I tried to summon words of reassurance, but the support and shared feelings only fuelled my resolve.
“Before we moved, Isla and I lived on a military base in England. Her mother, my ex-wife, comes from a notorious family of criminals. When Isla was born, her ma warned me that her family wanted the bairn and could hurt her. She told me I needed to take extreme measures to keep her away from them.”
I swallowed and flicked a glance to the stairs. Scarlet would keep Isla out of earshot, but even so, I’d taken pains to ensure she never knew the depths of the struggles around her life.
“There’s more to it than I can explain, but Liv, my ex-wife, believed they’d try to use Isla against a rival family. Or as a minimum, use her to their own ends. For seven years, I’ve kept her away from them, including bringing her here when Liv’s two brothers were released from jail.”
Over the video call, Gordain cleared his throat. “Have they made a specific threat?”
“Negative. I only know that they’re out, and that someone has been sniffing around my old base in search of me. Then there’s the hoax rescue calls, the break in, and the incident yesterday. I believe these things are connected, but there’s a chance they’re not.”
I ran over how Liv had been with me, and how I’d wondered if she’d played me to take care of her daughter when she couldn’t.
Sympathetic faces regarded me, no judgement or suggestions that my reactions had been overblown.
I suspected any one of the people here would’ve done similar.
Cameron raised a hand. “We’ll have CCTV on the abduction attempt any minute. The school had to supply it to the police. They couldnae give it to us directly.”
I breathed in. “Good. The description the receptionist gave me wasn’t enough to identify either brother, or to rule them out.”
Cait sat forward. “There’s also the chance this is connected to me.”
All attention fell on her.
“Why?” her father asked.
Pale, Cait chewed her lip. “Ye all know that several months ago, someone came to the estate and painted a word on my door. Around that, there have been a number of other strange incidents.”
Cait listed event after event, ones I already knew about and others I didn’t. With each, my anger grew.
Someone had followed her.
Hacked her emails.
Stolen from her.
Scared her.
Her cheeks flushed red. “I didn’t think it was connected. The paint on my door was some guy I spurned. A man I saw recently, though I’m not convinced it was him now. The emails could’ve been an IT glitch. Rupert, my boss, has been acting strange, so I’m now thinking he could be behind it all.”
Her father grimaced. “Targeting Lochie and Isla as well as ye?”
She dropped her face to her hands. “What if that’s so? Could he be that insane that he’d hurt someone I loved because he couldn’t have me? What if this is all my fault?”
“No,” multiple voices reprimanded.
I drew her in and hugged her, no small thrill in me from her public claiming. She loved me. I’d never make her regret the fall. “It’s not. Dinna ever take on the responsibility for someone else’s behaviour.”
Gordain’s voice sounded again. “Then we have two possible suspects, lumping the brothers into one category as they have collective gain. One thing to consider is that the incidents could be a combination of these agents acting separately.”
“True,” I acknowledged.
“The rescue calls…” Max unfurled his tall frame from his seat. So far, he’d listened silently, the opposite side of the room from his twin brother. He palmed his plaster-encased arm. “I’ve been listening to them back to back, trying to work out if it’s one person or multiple.”
“Weren’t two of them female?” his father asked.
“Aye, so if it is a single player, they’d be very good with putting on voices. Which is what I looked out for.”
Cait peered at him. “Player, like an actor?”
His eyes flared. “Exactly. And I’m pretty certain I picked up a hint of a Birmingham accent in two of the calls.”
Cait paled further, her fingertips fluttering over her lips.
“What is it?” I asked.
A thud at the heavy oak entrance resounded in the great hall.
Callum and Ally shot up and stalked over. They slid back the iron locks and opened it, revealing a uniformed officer the other side.
Mathilda’s gaze stayed on her niece. Likewise, her two brothers stared.
“Your university friend that used to visit you here was from Birmingham,” Mathilda said slowly. “You brought him to see the castle. He was charming. Overly so.”
“And an acting student,” Max added.
The police officer eyed us, offering a joke over the amount of people converged over the incident. No one laughed. She handed an iPad to Cameron then gestured at something, stepping outside. Cameron locked the door and brought the tablet to me.
Everyone else crowded around, and I hit ‘play’.
The in-colour scene showed the reception area of the school, kids’ rainbow paintings lining a wall. At the desk, the receptionist glanced up, and a pair of boots appeared in the glass doorway, at the top of the screen.
She must’ve buzzed the person in, but the pounding of blood in my ears displaced the sound.
The door swung open. The man entered.
Young. In a woolly hat and thick coat. Only a thin sliver of his features showing.
Cait drew back as if stung.
I knew why. I’d recognised him, too.
Everyone waited on her.
“Jude,” she said on a breath. “That’s who tried to take Isla. My friend Jude—an acting student from Birmingham. Rupert’s nephew.”
