TWENTY-NINE
Isabel was ready to pitch a fit. Yet another expression she had picked up from her aunt Nora, but in this instance it definitely worked. She had heard every word Ferris said, and she was beyond furious. Someone was selling land near Dunross to the Patterson Group. What land could it be but Glen MacKenna? And what was Reid’s involvement? Was he playing both angles? Was he also trying to broker a deal with someone else, some weasel who evidently thought he owned the land and could sell it? And just who was the weasel? Only one name came to mind. Clive Harcus, the Terror of the Highlands.
She was the one little glitch in their fantasy plan. They would have to get rid of her in order for their scheme to work, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
Michael found her pacing around the desk in the small office. He motioned for the officer with her to leave, closed the door behind him, and then went to Isabel and pulled her into his arms. He needed to hold her close, to know she was safe, for he was still reeling from hearing Ferris so casually talk about the plan to kill her.
Isabel relaxed against him and closed her eyes. A long minute passed without either of them saying a word. She was thinking how secure she felt with his strong arms around her.
He was thinking about doing bodily harm to the bastard who wanted to kill her.
“Michael, you’re squeezing me.”
He lessened his hold but wouldn’t allow her to step back.
Her lips touching his neck, she whispered, “That was some interview, wasn’t it?”
“I wanted to throw Ferris through the wall.”
“I would have helped.”
“Yeah?” he said, smiling. He let go of her.
“Could we leave?”
“Not yet, but soon,” he promised. “I have to go over a few details for tomorrow with the inspector. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Shouldn’t take long,” she’d learn, was code for “at least an hour.” Danny kept checking on her and finally sat with her and told her all sorts of interesting and horrifying facts about Clive Harcus, including one that involved Danny’s own family. His brother-in-law had ended up in the hospital because of Clive Harcus’s temper.
When Michael and Isabel left the station, a chill had settled in the air, and it was so dark they could see only as far as the headlights on their car allowed.
“How do people walk around out here at night?” Isabel asked. “You can’t see your hand in front of your face.”
“Flashlights and phones.”
“I suppose,” she agreed. “Are we staying close to Dunross tonight?”
“No.”
She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Where are we staying?”
“Away from here.”
Exasperated, she said, “That’s helpful.”
“There’s a place about an hour away from Dunross. Nick’s working on it.”
“Working on finding a different place to stay? What about Inspector Sinclair? Will he know where we’ll be?”
“He thinks we’re going to stay at the Dorn.”
“But we aren’t going to stay there?”
“No. It’s too easy for someone to get in and out.”
“Will you tell the inspector where we are?”
“No. I don’t want anyone to know.”