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I pause a moment before answering, then point out with half-hearted grouchiness, “Seems like he didn’t do a very good job of not telling anyone.”

David waves away this comment. “I don’t count. The point is, we both know what Johnny’s like. He’s not one to step out of line or do things he’s not supposed to. So, not only has he been worrying himself sick about you, but the thought that he did something wrong by lying has been gnawing away at him.”

Guilt tugs at my conscience. I’ve always tried to protect Johnny, shield him from the worst parts of life. It bothers me that he’s suffering on my account.

“So, here’s what I need to know,” David says, straight-faced now. “Did you do it?”

“Are you being serious?” I step towards him. Old instincts—get bigger, get mean—kick in before I can think better of it. “You come here to my own home and ask me that?”

“I need to hear you say it.” David doesn’t back down even though I tower over him. “Did you do it?”

“No. Of course I bloody didn’t.”

David watches me for a few moments more, then he nods. “Yeah, I know you didn’t. I just needed to hear you say it.” His shoulders relax. “Anyway, Johnny isn’t supposed to talk to you about the investigation, but . . . I’m not Johnny!” He grins, our charged moment of just a few seconds ago apparently already forgotten. “And when I suggested that maybe I could come here and talk to you, the biggest smile lit up Johnny’s face. Honestly, you should have seen it. It was adorable.”

A reluctant smile twitches at my lips. I can imagine the look on my brother’s face.

“I don’t have much of an update,” David continues, “but Johnny has mentioned that nothing else has been stolen since you left, which is a pain.”

I groan. That just makes me look guiltier, as if my absence has magically solved everything and I was the problem all along.

“However,” David says, “Johnny was able to get me some things that may prove useful. Let me fetch them from the car. Drumroll, please!”

He’s as bad as Cat.

“This isn’t a game show, David,” I growl, although there’s no real heat behind it.

“Fine, fine. No appreciation of drama, you Highlanders.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “But trust me, you’re going to want to see this.”

He heads back to his car, whistling as he goes, and despite myself, the tiniest spark of hope flickers in my chest.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CAT

I open the front door to the Bannock Hotel—my childhood home—and peek inside. Reception is empty. Result. Still, I’ll need to be quiet. Lewis is probably through in the restaurant, setting up for dinner service.

I make a beeline for the supply cupboard, ease it open, and cast a quick glance over the shelves. Spotting what I need, I nab two bottles of shampoo and a conditioner then tuck them into my tote bag. Next target: the ever-essential toilet roll.

Guilt nips at me. Here I am, a grown woman with a teaching job, pinching toiletries from my brother. But is it really stealing when technically a portion of this hotel belongs to me? Besides, there are a ton of products here. Surely one or two going missing won’t make a difference? Plus, I need to save every penny to pay Robbie back.

My stomach twists at the memory of how we left things earlier. The look on his face when he realised I might not be able to cough up what I owe. God, I’ve made a mess of things. I should never have never trusted that stupid manifestation book.

I’m reaching for another roll of posh toilet paper when there’s a soft whine behind me. I freeze then slowly turn around.

Bruce, the hotel’s black Labrador, stands in the doorway, his tail wagging furiously. He lets out a delighted wee whimper.

“Shh, Bruce,” I whisper, giving his head a quick pat. “Not now, boy. Shoo!”

But Bruce has no intention of leaving. If anything, he gets more excited, his tail thumping rhythmically against the doorframe, the noise echoing through the quiet hallway.

“What are you up to there, Bruce?” a familiar voice calls.

Oh, shit.

A moment later, Lewis appears in the doorway. “Cat! What are you doing skulking about?” He spots my tote bag, which is now twice its normal size and bulging suspiciously at the seams, and lets out a heavy sigh. “Really, Cat? Nicking from your own family? Classy.”

I flash him my signature mischievous grin, the one that’s got me out of trouble more times than I care to admit. “Come on, it’s hardly a daring heist. Just a few bits and bobs.”