Alec still knew Ainslee’s phone number by heart. He’d stopped just long enough to pickpocket someone and buy a burner phone, and now, he wondered if he should call her. He’d asked MacBain to keep his involvement a secret, but a part of him still wanted to explain, apologize. But he was too afraid. Afraid of how she would react, what she would say, afraid she would regret those years they spent together if she didn’t already. Perhaps that was a box better left shut.
He was driving well above the speed limit as he charged over the next bridge, but luckily, there was no one out and about to see him. It was just him and the twin beams of his headlights ghosting over the ground. The Scottish Highlands were different at night. During the day, they were rugged and beautiful, but once the night fell, they did not seem to belong wholly to the humans. The shadows of the trees and bushes, and even the rocks, took on a life of their own, dancing amid the landscape, and more than once, Alec thought he saw something moving just beyond the periphery of his headlights. If asked, he might have admitted to being a bit superstitious, but how could he not be, living somewhere where the very wind had a voice of its own, and the mountains wept clear water?
The road curved around a lone thorn bush and then continued on. Alec knew he should feel out of control driving at these speeds, but instead, he just felt a sense of eerie calm as if there was something else controlling the car for him. He was very familiar with the Highlands outside of Inverness, having travelled them extensively over the past few years, and he’d marked the route with his eyes while looking at MacBain’s computer, so it wasn’t hard to wind his way towards the Dormach Firth. The A9 would take him all the way there.
The hard part would be reaching the island.
About an hour later, he crossed the long bridge over the Dormach Firth itself and, at the first chance he got, turned west and began to wind his way down towards the water. MacBain had also marked Meikle Ferry on his map, though Alec could only hope he’d decided to go a different way. Might make for an awkward conversation if they ran into each other.
He felt like he was going well out of his way trying to reach the ferry, the backroads narrow and poorly maintained, prone to turning at odd angles and looping back on themselves. He knew the ferry was to his south, back towards the firth, and eventually, he found a road running alongside a tributary that he was able to follow down to Meikle Ferry and the Dormach Firth.
He took a couple of wrong turns before he finally found the little ferry business right on the water’s edge. A small, dark booth sat between the rickety dock and the empty, dirt parking lot. Clearly, MacBain had gone another way. Alec parked at the back of the lot. The needle on the fuel gauge hovered just above the red zone, but that would be a problem to solve later.
Rain splattered across his head as he stepped from the car, and he shivered against the wind, wishing he had kept the police jacket. He wore only a jumper and a pair of trousers, and the cold ripped right into him.
There was a torch in the glove compartment, and he followed its dim light down the gentle slope to the dingy little booth. Wooden shutters covered the window, but the lock broke with a sharp tug, and he swung them open, climbing inside to search for the keys to the ferry. The structure stank of mildew and animal droppings. He found a ring attached to a worn, red key float hanging beneath the counter and swiped it, glancing around the tiny space for anything else of use before he clambered out again.
The dock just beyond the hut trembled beneath his weight, the wood showing signs of rot and disuse. A single pontoon boat sat at the end, bound to a post by fraying ropes. The gate in its railing creaked as Alec swung it open, and the whole thing rocked as he stepped aboard. He had a brief moment of panic as he wondered if the thing had gas or would even start, but he tamped the rising wave back down because he would just have to hope things worked out.
Alec gingerly avoided the stagnant water at the bottom of the boat as he made his way to the steering wheel. The rain made everything slick, and he shivered, wiping the droplets away from his eyes. There was a slot for the key just beside the wheel, though he had to force it in and fight with it to get it to turn. He primed the engine, but he had to press the ignition button five times before it finally caught and held, and each time, he felt a stab of fear go through him because Finn was waiting for him, and if he failed, he might as well let himself sink to the bottom of the firth.
But the engine finally rumbled to life, and he did a
