“This wasn’t about hiding gold,” she said. “It was about making sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Flynn’s voice was low. “And now?”
Heather straightened.
“Now the last piece comes home. Not to a hearth or a saddle, but to Scotland itself.”
She folded Flora’s letter once more.
“They trusted that someone would come who wouldn’t care what the gold was worth.”
Flynn looked at her.
Heather met his gaze, steady and sure.
“We’re not meant to have it,” she said. “We’re meant to return it.”
Chapter 53
Heather—Present Day
Blue lights washed over the stone walls of Flynn’s cottage, rhythmic and impersonal.
Two police vehicles remained in the drive. Another idled at the gate. Angus stood just beyond the fence line, massive and unmoved, as if he’d decided this was no longer his concern.
Heather stood on the porch, wrapped in Flynn’s jacket, the cold finally settling into her bones now that everything else had stopped moving.
Eleanor leaned against the doorframe behind her. Silent. Watchful.
A black SUV appeared at the far bend in the lane.
It didn’t rush.
It didn’t hesitate.
It rolled forward with irritating confidence and came to a neat stop beside the cruisers.
Dr. Flora Henderson stepped out alone.
She took in the scene in a single, efficient glance—the police, the pasture, the cottage windows lit from within. Her mouth tightened, not in fear, but annoyance. Like a woman who’d arrived late to a meeting she considered beneath her.
She locked her car.
Straightened her coat.
And walked forward.
An officer intercepted her halfway up the drive.
“Dr. Henderson?”
She paused, surprised—but only briefly.
“Yes?” Her tone was polite. Measured. Academic. “I came as soon—”
“We have several individuals detained on this property who arrived in vehicles registered to your research foundation.”
Henderson’s brows lifted a fraction. “That’s impossible. My team is in Edinburgh.”
