Keeping her head down, she pressed the buttons on the key fob with every step, causing the Land Rover’s lights to flash. She climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing the suitcase beside her. Only once the door closed did she let out a breath.
Once on Skye, she would ring David. No. Text. She’d text him, say she wasn’t feeling well, say she missed the children, say the guesthouse wasn’t up to her standards. She’d say something. Or maybe she’d call Gordon. Gordon always did as she asked. Although wasn’t Gordon partially responsible for this mess to begin with?
Through the rearview mirror, she watched the house watching her with its long, dark windows. This would be another day Callum’s favors went unpaid. She turned the key in the ignition.
A wheezing sounded from underneath the bonnet. She tried again, pressing the pedals, but the engine sputtered. Ellie knew nothing about cars, but she did know a two-year-old Land Rover shouldn’t break down like this. She looked out at the loch then, in the mirrors, at the house. No one had come rushing out. Maybe no one had heard. They could all be asleep yet. They were always fond of a lie-in, except Lorna. And if Ellie could find where they’d left their keys . . .
As she hopped out of the car, the clasp on her bracelet gave and slipped from her wrist. When she reached down to retrieve it, a hole in the punctured tire gaped at her like an open wound. The back tire was the same. And the two on the passenger side. All four destroyed beyond repair. She looked at the other three cars. All of them sat lower than they should. All of them bore flattened tires. All of them were useless.
Somehow, she made it back to the house. She didn’t know how or for how long she’d been standing in the foyer, her wet clothes dripping on the floor. When she heard sounds coming from the dining room, she went in to find Lorna there. In her mind, she calmly explained what she had discovered outside, but when she opened her mouth the words tumbled out.
Before hearing Lorna’s reaction, Ellie escaped to the kitchen. Tea, she’d mentioned. Tea sounded like an excellent idea. She took her time choosing a mug from a rack by the sink and a tea bag from a glass canister. She filled a kettle with water, placed it on the stove, and waited for the water to boil.
She wouldn’t be leaving. She was trapped. With them. For at least the weekend. Possibly longer. Trapped. When she hadn’t even wanted to come here at all.
She slammed her fist into the wall. Bits of white plaster dusted her knuckles. She watched her hand bleed, waited for it to sting, and, when it finally did, felt somewhat calmer.
“It will all be fine,” she whispered and ran cool water over her hand, rinsing away the blood and plaster. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
The floor creaked behind her. Ellie turned, but there was no one there.
“Hello?”
She listened.
The kettle whistled.
Once her tea was done, Ellie took one last glance around the kitchen, then returned to the dining room. Just in time to see Oliver kick a chair.
“That fucking son of a bitch!”
She wanted to cover her ears but couldn’t bear to put the warm mug down even as the heat from it burned her palms.
“We don’t know it was Caskie,” said Lorna.
“Of course it was! Must have done it before he left, which is why he scarpered out of here as fast as he did. Should’ve chased his car down last night instead of watching him drive off. Bet he knows all about our blackmail-happy little friend.”
“Then we should let Hollis snoop around,” Lorna said. “See if he can find a way to track Caskie down.”
Oliver snorted.
“He is the detective . . .”
The door clicked open.
“Speak of the devil,” said Oliver, but it was Maeve, looking like she’d rolled out of bed and all the way down the stairs. “Morning, sleeping beauty. Where the fuck have you been?”
Ellie’s eyes flashed at Oliver. He caught her glance and rubbed a hand over his head.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Rough morning.”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep in.” Maeve rubbed her eyes. “I thought I set an alarm. Where’s the coffee?”
“Hollis up yet?” Oliver asked. “Seems we have a little job for him.”
“I thought Hollis was down here,” Maeve said.
“Sleeps in later than you.” He fished a cigarette out of a pack.
“If he’s sleeping, it’s not in his room. Is there a pot of coffee or is it a make your own sort of thing?”
“How do you know he’s not in his room?” Lorna asked.
“’Cause the door’s open and he’s not inside. What about breakfast?” She shuffled halfway into the room, then finally noticed something was bothering them. “What is it? Did you find more notes or something?”
Lorna explained what happened to the cars. Maeve shrieked and ran to the windows.
“You can’t be serious! I just paid it off.”
Oliver laughed around the end of his cigarette.
“It’s not funny! Maybe you can afford a new car every other year, but it took me ages to save for the down payment.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he said. “I was laughing at the situation.”
“What on earth is funny about this?” Lorna asked. “Please explain.”
“He wasn’t saying it was funny. He was only laughing,” Maeve said. “It’s a normal reaction for some in times of stress.”
That was enough to stir up another argument. Their three-way squabbling scratched at Ellie’s brain, this out-of-tune symphony playing like a repeat of a long-forgotten record. When she closed her eyes, she could remember a similar argument from years ago—Oliver standing in a kitchen doorway, Lorna across from him, shouting, Maeve cowering by the closet under the stairs, Callum silent on the old sofa . . .
“That’s it!” Ellie silenced them. “No more shouting. No more arguing. We are adults now. Yes? So we will handle this like adults instead of little children. Is that clear?”
She breathed in the scent of her Earl Grey tea, keeping her eyes fixed on Oliver. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lorna fold her arms. Maeve mumbled a sarcastic, “Yes, Mum.”
Oliver broke their gaze first and stomped into the foyer to shout for Hollis. Lorna and Maeve followed, leaving Ellie alone in the dining room. She watched them from a distance as someone entered the room behind her. The presence was so tangible, she thought it was Hollis and turned to say hello. But there was no one there.
She scanned the dining room, seeking out the corners and curtains, anywhere someone could hide, and saw no one. No longer willing to be alone, she abandoned the mug on a table and joined the others in the foyer.
“We think Hollis went for a walk,” Lorna told her. “Maeve said his jacket’s not in his room.”
“What were you doing snooping around his room?” Ellie asked.
“For the love of—I wasn’t snooping! The door was wide open. And it’s not like it’s a big room. It was easy to see his jacket wasn’t in there. It’s bright yellow, for god’s sake.”
Ellie remembered then what she had found last night and retrieved it from her pocket. “Does Hollis have a child? I found this in the study.”