Amusement cut through my irritation. “Well, it’s true.”
“I’m going to use that.”
I let out a little laugh before heaving a massive sigh. “What a waste of a ferry ticket.”
“Why would someone phone you from a post office to lie?” Quinn pulled me to the side as tourists tried to get past us. The post office was on a busy street in Oban, bustling with traffic and pedestrians. Most of the town’s busiest thoroughfares were narrow between the stores, so there was a one-way system in place for vehicles. Despite the rain-slicked pavements and the early hour, the weekend tourism meant we had little privacy for this conversation.
Frustrated I’d come all this way for nothing, I said, “I have no idea.”
“One second.” Quinn held up a finger before he pulled out his phone. I heard the dull ring of it and then the faint sound of someone answering. “Ramsay, quick question.”
I raised an eyebrow as I listened to Quinn’s side of the conversation.
“Can someone call from a number but trick the system into thinking the call is coming from a different number?” Quinn frowned as he stared at his feet, listening to whatever Ramsay said. His eyes shot to me as he nodded and relayed for my benefit, “It’s called ID spoofing. Many scammers use Voice over Internet Protocol technology to manipulate the information that appears on your caller ID display.”
Unease shifted through me as I realized what Quinn was getting at.
“Is there a way to track down the real caller?” He nodded at whatever Ramsay said. “It was Taran who got the call.” He informed his friend about this morning’s events and what had led me to coming to Oban. Our surroundings were too loud for me to hear Ramsay’s response, but Quinn had grown quiet, listening. Then he spoke again, “No idea why, but if we can find out who made the call, maybe we’ll discover why … it could be just a prank, but with everything else going on …”
My mind whirled as I turned from Quinn, taking a few steps away as I tried to think why anyone would make a call like that. What was the purpose?
It did get me on a ferry away from Leth Sholas. I paused, heart picking up pace. Did someone want me off Glenvulin? Or here in Oban specifically?
As I spun to voice my concerns out loud, it took my brain a second to register the hard clamp around my waist. It was only as my feet left the ground I realized I’d been grabbed. Fear shot through me. “Quin—” A sweaty hand clamped down on my mouth as I was dragged backward down a narrow lane between the buildings.
“Taran!” I heard Quinn’s roar as I struggled in my captor’s grip, kicking and bucking, trying to slow them down. A dull pain exploded across my head and I slumped, momentarily stunned.
When my focus returned, my heart leapt at the sight of Quinn. He ran toward us, his face a mask of fury, and more pain ricocheted across my bottom and elbows. It took me another second to realize my attacker had dropped me like a sack of potatoes on the cobbled wynd.
Quinn skidded to a stop, lowering to his knees. “Taran, fuck, Taran,” he gasped, his wild gaze searching for injury. “Are you all right?”
I groaned, pushing up. “What the hell just happened? Who was that?”
“He wore a mask.” Quinn glowered over my head.
“Let’s go after him.” I tried to push to my feet, but my legs were like jelly.
“No, we’ll call the police, and we need to get you checked over.” Quinn’s hands rested on my hips, steadying me as I straightened.
I winced at my aches and pains as horrifying realization set in. “Someone wanted me here. To do this.”
He nodded, his jaw clenching. “Aye, it seems so.”
By the time we left the police station, my adrenaline had crashed, I was exhausted, and I hated to admit it, but I was anxious at the thought of being alone.
Thankfully, the blow to my head hadn’t been hard enough to cause concussion and the first aider at the police station had left it up to me to pay a visit to the hospital or not. That was an “or not” for me. It was bad enough having to explain the situation to the puzzled police officers. They did quite quickly find CCTV footage of my assailant (Quinn ID’d his clothing), but the man, whoever he was, kept his mask on until the cameras lost track of him. The police promised to keep searching. Unfortunately, there was little I could tell them. All I’d smelled was a mix of sweat and something like pickle on the hand he’d clamped over my mouth. Otherwise, my senses hadn’t picked up on anything that would be helpful in identifying him.
Quinn finally informed the police of his suspicions over Eoghan McCall. Even though he knew from the man’s build that it wasn’t Eoghan who had attempted to kidnap me in Oban, he thought there might still be a connection. McCall was the only suspect we had. The police forwarded that information ontoLeth Sholas police, but there was little they could do other than speak to Eoghan.
I’d been asked several times whether there was anyone I’d had a confrontation or altercation with in the past few weeks or months. There was no one, other than Quinn. I was at a complete loss as to who, other than Eoghan, would want to harm me.
It was chilling.
If Quinn hadn’t insisted on accompanying me to the post office, there was every chance my assailant would have succeeded in kidnapping me right off the street. I’d like to think a member of the public would have tried to help, but you never knew these days.
Whoever this was, they’d been desperate enough to plan to get me here and reckless enough to chance taking me in a public place.
“Are you returning to Glenvulin today, Ms. Macbeth?” PC Lewis, a young female officer asked as Quinn and I prepared to leave the police station.
