“Callum, this is Tara Fletcher. She recently made inspector and transferred up from Glasgow. She’s your new partner.”
“Nice to meet you.” Fletcher smiled and held out her hand. I shook it, eyeing her. She seemed young, especially for an inspector, but she’d taken that man down like she was simply knocking a box over, and there was an easy confidence in her stance that I liked. Not that I would tell her that.
“Callum MacBain,” I said instead. “Look, I don’t know what the chief inspector has told you, but I--”
“Let me guess,” she interrupted. “You work alone.” She deepened her voice as much as she could and planted her fists on her hips, brow furrowing. A moment later, she broke out into a grin again and laughed. “Come on, man, where’s the fun in that?”
“One case, Callum,” Dunnel said. “If it doesn’t work out, then fine, you can be a lone wolf or whatever it is you want.”
“Fine. One case,” I agreed.
Dunnel clapped me on the shoulder. “Brilliant. Because I already have one ready for you.”
Two
Alec MacGowan sat in an unassuming white car across the street from 21 Crown Drive, watching the darkened windows and the silent yard. The day was overcast, the clouds spilling shadows across the street and threatening rain. He knew he should wait for nightfall, but he was jittery, on edge, and he wanted this job done as quickly as possible.
When he was sure the house was empty, he left the car and strode across the street, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black rain jacket, its hood pulled up to ward off the day’s chill and to hide his bright red hair. He ignored the front door. Instead, he walked down the narrow alley between this collection of townhouses and the next. A wooden fence, taller than he was, enclosed the small yard at the back, but it was easy enough to step on a stack of forgotten bricks, plant his hand on the top of the fence, and swing himself over, his feet landing silently on the stone patio on the other side. He crouched there for a moment, listening. But the neighbourhood was silent, its inhabitants still away at work.
Alec tested the sliding glass door but found it locked. He pulled a metal strip from his inside pocket and slid it into the seam between the door and the wall, wiggling it around until he felt the lock pop, and he was able to pull the door open. He stepped into the kitchen, the appliances small and a little outdated, and the wooden cabinets scratched in several places. A table with mismatched chairs sat just outside the kitchen, between Alex and a set of French doors, though they seemed completely unnecessary since there was a second, normal door leading out of the kitchen and dining room right beside them.
Alec shut the glass door behind him. Now, if he were a deed to a castle, where would he be? He ghosted across the dining room floor and poked his head into the short entrance hall, looking in on the den just to his left. The leather chairs looked plump and comfortable in front of a fireplace just waiting to be lit. He made his way up the staircase, nosing around until he found the master bedroom. The bed dominated the floor, and bookshelves covered one wall, full of paperbacks and pictures of the Highlands outside the city. If he were a deed to a castle, he supposed he’d been in here.
So he searched the room, rifling through the dresser drawers, the jewellery box, and the spaces between the books, pocketing a few shiny bangles to throw any investigation off his true target. And he needed the cash. His employer wasn’t paying him for this little break-in.
He found the deed tucked in a leather folder on the top shelf. Dust puffed into the air as he lifted it, and he sneezed. Dust allergies were not all that helpful for someone in his profession. Alec opened the folder and flipped through the papers inside until one caught his name: the deed of ownership to the Castle of Old Wick. He glanced through the rest of the papers, just to make sure there was nothing else of value there, but it was mostly old tax returns and the contract for the townhouse. Alec folded the deed and put it in his inside pocket for safekeeping, then placed the leather folder back where he found it. Time to get out of there before the owners came home.
And as if he summoned them with the thought, Alec heard the front door swing open. Boots stamped off the day’s dirt on the welcome mat, and a woman’s sigh reached his ears, followed by the rustle of her coat rustle as she hung it up.
Alec cursed silently. The window by the bookshelf opened up right over the front door and dropped straight to the ground where someone would definitely see and hear him if he tried to climb out. He ducked out of the bedroom, unsure if the door had been open or closed when he arrived, leaving it open since that seemed right as he snuck along the short hall by the bannister, praying that the woman's head was not about to appear between the wooden slats. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her walk into the kitchen.
Alec opened one of the doors on the other end of the hall, right at the top of the stairs. The roof was shallower on the backside of the house, and he should be able to creep along it and drop to the ground in a blind spot.
A lamp clicked on as he pushed the door open. A small, tousled head appeared from under a mound of blankets, sleepy eyes turning to look at him.
“Mum?” a small child asked. He was still dressed in his uniform jumper, though it was rumpled
