“John’s place?”
“Yes.”
“Four kilometers down the A-9. An hour’s walk. But if it’s John yer lookin’ fer, I’m sure he’ll be comin’ round for the hoolie, aye?”
“Yeah. Someone mentioned it. Still, if you happen to find a taxi, or an Uber?—”
“I’ll give it a go. If I dinnae ring ye back in ten minutes, I had no luck.”
“Good enough. Thank you so much.”
“Auch, and welcome back to the land o’ the livin’, miss.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and wondered if I could sneak out the back and get down the road without anyone stopping me. I had nothing to change into. No other coat. And walking that far in my ski boots?
Just out of reach sat the whisky bottle on its fancy wood platter, resting on an artfully placed throw, on top of an oversized ottoman.
You’re going to need me, Matty lass,it said.
I shook my head. “I’m saving you for Cian.”
I watched the clock on the nightstand. Ten minutes ticked by like seconds. The phone never rang, but I couldn’t give up!
My boots didn’t matter. If someone questioned me or tried to stop me, I would just ignore them and keep going. If I could get down the road a little, maybe someone would offer me a ride. All that mattered was that Cian was waiting for me, and I had to get to him before he gave up and disappeared.
Once my divorce went through, there was no snowshoe trail to lead me back to him. And it wasn’t as if I could fly back to Scotland every summer to spend a few weeks with him. I could wait by the armory on the first Saturday of the month and follow him home again. But what if he stopped coming altogether? Or worse, what if I ended up leading that traveler to him?
I realized I was pacing and stopped to look at myself in the mirror. What a mess! How could he have kissed this ragamuffin? But I realized that, to Cian, I had basically been the only woman in the world. Given a choice, he probably wouldn’t have picked this…
I pulled the hair ties off the end of my braid and ran my fingers through my hair. It didn’t improve anything.
“Oh, Matty, you’re an idiot! You knew him for two days! It was never even a relationship! You have to let him go!”
I closed my eyes for a minute and asked myself if I could live with that. Then I flipped off the bitch in the mirror and headed for the door. “Not without saying goodbye, I don’t.”
I tucked the key into my coat pocket and opened the door. Standing in my way were the two police officers. They had my two suitcases, but they weren’t handing them over, and they weren’t smiling.
I wondered what I’d done. “Hi guys.”
“Mrs. Gaines.”
“Thank you for your trouble.” I pulled the door wider. “Do you have questions for me?”
They exchanged a look, then stepped inside, dragging my bags. I invited them to sit down, but they shook their heads.
The stocky one spoke first. “We went to the Balavoulin. They had yer things packed, but…”
“Then yer husband had arrived, so…they left the cases in yer room.”
“My husband? Here? In Scotland?”
“Aye. And…a woman. The Balavoilin folks gave them yer room, ye see?—”
“Since he was yer husband and all. They arrived in the night?—”
“Come to help the search?—”
