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Outside my cottage, I dismount and head for the door. Just inside, on the hall floor, a white envelope waits for me—one of those grim official ones with my name printed in bold type. The logo in the corner tells me exactly what it is.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, shaking my head at the universe’s idea of a joke.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CAT

The final bell rings, and I practically sprint from my classroom. I’ve been sneaking not-so-subtle glances at my phone since lunch, when David texted to say Robbie had been released. My S3 class definitely noticed my distraction during our discussion of Romeo and Juliet. Somewhat ironic, given my own romantic drama unfolding.

I drive to Robbie’s cottage, my stomach in knots. I tried to see him at the police station last night, but they wouldn’t let me in. After that, I couldn’t sleep, just kept seeing him being led away in handcuffs and feeling the weight of everyone’s judgemental eyes boring into me.

Pulling up beside Robbie’s motorcycle, I take a deep breath then get out my car. The cottage looks peaceful against the backdrop of Bannock Woods. Hard to believe its owner’s life is imploding.

I knock, but there’s no answer. So I try again, louder this time.

“It’s open,” Robbie calls, his tone weary.

I head in then go through to the kitchen, where sunlight streams through the French windows, catching the dust motes in the air. Robbie sits at the table, hunched over a mug of something I think might have long since gone cold. He looks up as I enter, dark circles under his eyes, and for the briefest moment, he looks almost lost. Then his expression shutters closed.

“Hey,” I say, dropping into the chair opposite him and putting my bag on the one beside me.

“Hi. How was school?” The question, which would be perfectly ordinary any other day, seems ridiculous today.

“Not bad, but I had trouble focusing. Romeo wasn’t the only troubled hero on my mind.”

He attempts a smile. “Och, I hope you weren’t worrying about me. I’m fine.”

I reach across the table and place a hand on his. “Are you, though?”

He shrugs. “Well . . . honestly? I’ve been better. But my da paid my bail, so that’s something, I suppose.”

Robbie briefly fills me in on what happened, including that his second hearing is next Tuesday. My knowledge of the justice system is sketchy at best, and most of what I do know comes from TV, which isn’t much help since in Scotland we do things differently than in England or the US. But apparently, his second hearing is when he enters his plea.

“Well, you’ll be saying not guilty, obviously.”

The fingers of his free hand tap restlessly against his mug.

“I’m not sure it’s that simple. Da wants me to chat with his solicitor, and I will—maybe I’ll have a clearer plan of action after that. But at court this morning, I got five minutes with the duty lawyer before my bail hearing. He said if I plead not guilty and get found guilty anyway, I’m probably looking at three to five years. But if I hold my hands up from the start . . . one or two years maybe, less with good behaviour.”

“Jesus, Robbie. You can’t plead guilty to something you didn’t do!”

“Aye, but what if I fight it, lose anyway, and spend even longer locked up?”

“We’ll find evidence to clear your name,” I insist. “We just need⁠—”

“A confession from Samantha? CCTV footage that doesn’t exist? Some kind of miracle?” His mouth twists in a wry smile. “Besides, my bail conditions include staying away from the resort and from Samantha. Break my conditions and I’ll be remanded in custody until my trial. Makes proving my innocence a bit difficult, doesn’t it?”

“I can keep investigating. I’m not bound by your bail conditions.”

“No. You’ve done enough already.” He gently pulls his hand away from mine. “This town has a long memory, Cat. If they decide you’re trouble, they’ll hold it against you forever. Trust me, I know. I don’t want to bring you down with me.”

“I don’t care what people think about me,” I say, though that’s not entirely true. I heard the whispers at school today, saw the way some of the other teachers looked at me. Word of my rather vocal defence of Robbie last night has, of course, already made its way around town. It doesn’t sting yet, but I know how these things work. Gossip has a way of wearing you down over time.

“You should care. You’re new to your position at Bannock High. You’ve got your whole career ahead of you. Standing by me . . . it’ll turn folk against you.”

The fact he’s worrying about my future when his own is dangling by a thread . . . well, it just about breaks me. The town might see Robbie as trouble, but I know the truth.

“I’m not abandoning you. We’re in this together.”