“We’re looking for a young woman that’s gone missing,” he said.
Cam looked puzzled, and I felt a prickling of fear run along my spine.
“Name’s Summer Lindley,” Bill elaborated watching me closely. “I believe you two have met.”
“What do you mean she’s missing?” I demanded.
“Her father said they had a bit of a row this afternoon and she stormed out. He sent his security folks after her, but she gave them the slip and no one’s heard from her since. We’ve checked in town and no one’s seen her. Has she been out here?”
“She was here first thing this morning, left a to-do list, but havenae seen her since,” Cam said.
“Have you checked with Grant?” I asked.
“I put in a routine call, but he was out. I wasn’t aware they knew each other.”
“They’ve met. In fact, they seemed quite taken with each other,” I said, trying not to sound fazed. “I’d try the Larches before raising the alarm.”
“I’ll see if I can raise Grant on his cell,” Cam said and headed toward the office.
Given Rory’s problems, I tried to calm my nerves with the thought that Summer had probably turned to Grant for comfort, and from the look on his face the other night he was probably managing to oblige.
“How long has she been gone?” I asked.
“Couple of hours.”
Cam leaned out the office door and yelled, “Grant says he hasnae seen the lass at all today.”
That news didn’t bode well. I suddenly felt guilty thinking evil thoughts about her. Even though she was young and ridiculously beautiful, not to mention shamelessly throwing herself at Grant, I felt responsible for helping to find her for Rory’s sake.
“Let me know if you hear anything,” Bill called over his shoulder as he headed back for his car.
—
I whistled for Liam as we hurried back down the road to the Haven, where I put in a call to Rory. He snapped the phone up on the first ring. From the disappointment in his voice I could tell he was hoping for Summer.
“Sorry, it’s me. No news yet?”
“Not a damn thing. Don’t know why I’m paying these private security prats such a fortune.” I could tell over the phone that he was pacing vigorously up and down. “I even called in the local plod, but they don’t seem to be worth a damn either,” he fumed.
“Bill was just here asking questions.”
“I suppose that’s something,” Rory said. “She’s been here less than forty-eight hours and she’s already crawling the walls. I just want her to stay here where we can keep an eye on her.”
“Try to stay positive. We don’t know for sure that this has anything to do with the Rebels and whoever’s stalking you. It could just be a coincidence.”
“But not bloody likely, is it?” Rory growled. “If they hurt her…”
“She probably just wanted some time alone. This is a lot to process at one time. I’ll lay money she’ll turn up at the MacEwen estate before long.”
“Why would she go there?”
“Summer volunteered to help out with a local event being hosted there next weekend. I thought it might help keep her busy,” I fibbed. “I’ll let you know if I hear from her,” I said, ringing off.
In spite of my comforting words to Rory, I was actually growing more uneasy about Summer’s disappearance by the minute. She shouldn’t have been able to give Rory’s security the slip. They were professionals and armed. She had no car, so she couldn’t have gone far, unless she was taken by someone else. The thought made my blood run cold.
Of course, Summer could’ve planned ahead and arranged for a friend to come up to rescue her. Maybe a boyfriend. We’d just have to hope it was a false alarm. In the meantime, I pulled out the local history book I’d borrowed from the library and looked at the map of the valley of Glenmorrow on the end pages. Fell Farm sat on a ridge above town, looking eastward down the valley. If Summer was walking she couldn’t have headed for town that way, she’d have to have gone along the north road that would eventually wind its way down to the back side of the MacEwen estate. Had she tried to walk it? It couldn’t hurt to take a look. I grabbed my phone, stuffed Liam into Hope’s front seat, and headed for the north road.
I drove around for over an hour before parking outside Fell Farm and walking the length of several footpaths that radiated away from the house and up into the hills. We walked for miles, and I was forced to conclude early on that Liam had limited utility as a bloodhound. The light was fading and my heart was pounding, not just from scrambling along the rocky trails but out of fear for Summer. Had the killer taken her? Rory would never forgive himself.
Far away across the hill line I could hear other voices calling for the missing girl. I only had the light from my cellphone to guide my feet, and it was getting more and more difficult to see. I called for Liam. We’d have to go back to the others and see what Bill intended to do next. I cautiously led the way back down the hillside, relying on the glow from my phone until it rang loudly, causing me to drop it.
I scrabbled around until I found it and answered breathlessly, hoping for good news. The voice on the other end was soft but sturdy, and I recognized it immediately as Nell Furguson’s. Furgie, as she was known in the village, was ninety if she was a day, and still happily living alone in a small cottage on the far side of Balfour tending to her garden. A lovely woman, but not the call I was hoping for.
“Abi dear, welcome home.”
“It’s good to be home,” I said, relishing the way the word felt on my tongue. “How’re you keeping?”
“Quite well, all things considered, but I wasn’t calling about me. I have a young lady here that asked me to call you.”
“Summer?” I said hopefully.
“Yes, indeed. Lovely name, lovely lady.”
I was flooded with relief. “How did she get there?”
“Wandered into my back garden. Said she was hiking on the ridge and had a wee accident.”
“Is she alright?”
“Banged up a bit, but nothing that won’t mend. She specifically asked that I call you, not her father,” Furgie added softly.
“Tell her I’m on my way.”
I made my way back to my car and called Bill as I bumped along the road toward Furgie’s cottage. “Call off the dogs. I’ve found Summer.”
“Where?”
“She had a bit of a tumble on the ridge and had to limp her way back to the village. She wound up in Furgie’s back garden. I’m on my way to pick her up now. Can you call Rory? Tell him I’ll bring her home.”
“Right you are. Shall I call Grant or will you? He’s been frantic.”
“Oh, you should probably call. He’ll want the official word.”
Frantic. Hardly the response of a disinterested party. Well, now that Summer was back safe I could happily return to impugning her reputation.
—
I arrived at Furgie’s to find Summer in front of the fire with a large brandy. She’d hurt her ankle and her arm, but refused a visit to the local surgery. Furgie had bandaged her up, and I gingerly loaded her into the car to take her home.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she said once we were alone. “I couldn’t face calling Rory. He was furious when I left, and I was scared of him.”
I thought about Patrick’s notes on Tina and Rory’s divorce. “He didn’t hurt you?” I asked tentatively. “I mean, physically.”
“No, nothing like that,” Summer admitted. “He’s just a control freak. Has to order everyone around. And he has a flash temper.”
“From what I’ve seen, he cares about you a great deal and he’s just trying to protect you.”
Summer looked down at her hands. “I guess so.”
She looked like there was something else she wanted to say. I decided to prod. “You had us all scared. Especially Grant.”
“At first I honestly thought Rory was being melodramatic about all this stalking business,” Summer conf
essed. “Someone out to get him and the Rebels seemed crazy. I mean, I know they were big in their day, but they’re just old news now.” Summer paused, toying with a long strand of rose gold hair.
“But?” I prompted, wondering how this was related to her disappearance.
“But after the concert I started to take things seriously. Then, today, when I took off I saw that there was someone out there watching the house. I would have gone back inside, but I’d already given the security blokes the slip.”
“Just out of curiosity, how did you manage that?”
“Easy. I climbed a tree.” Summer smiled slightly. “May not look like I could, but I was always a bit of a tomboy. I waited till they moved off toward the main road, but from where I was I could see movement in the bushes off to the right. Thought it was another one of Rory’s goons, but then I saw a stranger. A man in a hunting cap with binoculars. He was looking into the house. Gave me the creeps. I climbed down the tree as quietly as I could and started moving in a wide arch, angling away from binocular dude and back toward the house, but he must’ve heard me. He started heading my way. I was scared to death. I started to run, and that’s when I got too close to the edge of the ridge. I lost my footing and ended up tumbling all the way down. It took a while, but I eventually limped my way into the outskirts of town.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t seriously injured. Thank God there’s so much heather around at this time of year. Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“No. The hat he was wearing was the kind with earflaps, and it was pulled low over his face. I couldn’t even tell what color his hair was.”
“But you’re sure it was a man?”
“Yes, I mean, pretty sure. He had that kind of build, and he was wearing men’s clothes. Of course, it could just be a crazy fan stalking Mickey Dawson.”
“You’ll have to tell your father about this, you know.”
“Couldn’t you just tell the police? I’m afraid he’ll go all grizzly bear on me and lock me in the house. Please. I’ll go crazy if I can’t go out.”
“The police need to hear this from you. Not from me. And the police will tell Rory. I’m afraid you’re kind of stuck, but,” I couldn’t believe I was saying this, “I’ll do my best to talk him into letting you come to the Larches during the day to work with Patrick. At least that’ll get you out of the house some.”
“Brilliant.” Summer latched onto the idea with enthusiasm. “Being with Rory’s just too close to the line of fire. He can’t argue that I’d be much safer away from him. Somewhere protected and isolated.” A smile formed on her perfect lips. “Maybe I can convince Grant to give me a room at the Larches.”
How did that happen? One minute I was making a charitable gesture and the next she was moving in with Grant. “He doesn’t really know about all the things going on with Rory right now. I suspect he’d find it odd if you just asked to move in out of the blue,” I pointed out. At least, I hoped he would.
Summer ignored me. “We’ll see,” she said. “Besides, you’re like his sister. I’m sure you could talk him into it.”
No doubt I could, but I wasn’t about to.
Chapter 14
We pulled up in front of Fell Farm and Rory shot out the front door, closely followed by his security guards.
“What the hell happened?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Summer snapped.
“Are you hurt?”
“She took a tumble down the ridge at the back,” I said. “She’s cold and sore, but she wouldn’t let me take her to the doctors. I suspect she just needs some rest.”
“Thanks for bringing me home, Abi. I’ll be in touch.” Summer walked past her father without a glance and slammed the front door behind her.
Rory swore violently in the direction of the house before turning to address me.
“Come in,” he said. “I need a drink.”
He pulled out a bottle of excessively old Macallan and poured us both a large drink and pointed to the couch. “I’m still out of Abbey Glen,” he said with a scowl.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I turned to face him and took a much-needed drink. The Macallan was the grand dame of the Speyside malts, rich, mellow, and sherry laden with a heavenly finish. Just the thing after roaming through the hills in the chill damp air. “Heard anything new from the police?”
“Patty and Gerry were asked to stay in town for a few more days. The cops are still going through the computers and the electric generators.” Rory drained his glass and poured another. “I’m just sick about Leo.”
“You heard the police, it was an accident,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Are they sure?” Rory asked. “Seems like another ‘coincidence’ to me.”
“Why would someone want to kill Leo?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have. Or maybe I’m just seeing murder everywhere these days.”
“You have reason to. I haven’t discounted that possibility myself, but first we need to focus on who’d want to label you as a killer.”
“I told you the other night, I don’t know.”
“Killing isn’t only murder,” I pointed out. “You can kill someone’s dreams, kill a career by dragging someone through court—like Penrose.”
“Penrose did it to himself.”
“What about Simon Moye?”
“Don’t know much about him anymore. I understand he’s working with Mayhem. I figured that was why he was at the show.”
“Well, he was quick to say he wasn’t there to see you.”
“No, he wouldn’t be,” Rory said with a trace of sadness. “We’ve known each other since we were kids in school.” He stretched an arm along the back of the couch and rested a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t help feeling a shiver of anticipation running down my spine, but looking at his face he was lost in thought and not about me.
“Simon’s departure was a mess. The first of many. At the time Penrose told us he was being unreasonable about the music, making outrageous demands over royalties and credits. It was the start of the crazy paranoia. If I’d been thinking clearly at the time, I’d have realized that wasn’t the Simon I knew, but things were happening so fast. I didn’t bother to raise questions about Penrose’s version of events until the lawsuit came up, but by then it was too late. Too much water under the bridge. I still feel guilty about that one.”
“Is Simon the type that would have nursed a grudge all this time if he blamed you and the rest of the band for what happened?”
“Maybe. He was stubborn.”
“Hamish Dunn replaced him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And Hamish was the first to go,” I pointed out.
Rory winced.
“And no one would question Simon being around at Ravenscourt. He’d be able to follow Ian easily enough, and he was certainly around on Friday night.”
“I guess.” Rory sounded doubtful. “But that wouldn’t be the Simon I knew. He was the levelheaded one, I was always the hothead. But what do I know anymore.” He drained his glass and poured himself another. I continued to sip mine more slowly. The more I talked about Simon, the more he sounded like a reasonable option. I couldn’t write him off just because Penrose was such an odious old goat.
“I’d like you to look at the pictures from the concert. Just to see if anyone stands out to you. I took shots of the guests, shots of the crew and most of the folks hanging around backstage.”
“If it’ll help,” Rory said.
I pulled my computer out of my shoulder bag and called up the file of pictures from the show, enlarging the images to full screen. Rory moved closer and turned the screen to face him. “Page through and see if you recognize anyone we haven’t already discussed that might be significant,” I said, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt.
I poured myself another drink and watched as dozens of faces flashed by in review. Rory paused only occasionally to study on
e closer. “Rock-and-rollers should never age,” he remarked. “They should just spontaneously combust at about thirty-five. Much less embarrassing.”
“Do you recognize most of the older folks?”
“Recognize? Yes. Do I know them in any real or meaningful way? No. A few of the crew guys and some of the women. But the particulars are fuzzy. It was a fuzzy time. If one of them is holding a deep-seated grudge, I wouldn’t know which one or why. What was her name?” Rory paused for a moment. “Can’t remember, but she’s aged well. Little nip and tuck, no doubt.”
Rory continued to flip through the images, stopping at the picture I’d captured of Tina being hauled away in the wake of her husband. She looked skittish and frightened, like a racehorse about to bolt.
“Still ‘Hell on Heels,’ ” Rory said.
“Apparently so. Were you surprised she showed up?”
“No. That husband of hers is a big noise now at the studio. He signed a couple of major bands in the last few years and his stock has been rising.” Rory continued paging through the files, flying past his own photos as if it was painful to see himself.
He paused at the photo of the guitars leaning on the cannon and frowned. “I told JR we had the red Fender at the show.”
“Sorry?”
Rory pointed at the red and black guitar in the middle of the line of instruments. “The red Fender is one of my favorite guitars. It went missing during the show. JR tried to tell me I must not have sent it over, but I knew it was there.”
“And it’s missing? Did you tell the police?”
“It slipped my mind with Leo and all, until I saw the photo.”
Rory continued paging through the images. “That’s more like the Tina I know,” he said, pausing at the photos of Tina and her young buff companion.
“Any idea who he is?”
“The latest,” Rory replied. “Could be anyone that takes her fancy.”
There were several pictures of Patty talking to various Ravenscourt execs and some of the big donors. I noticed Rory lingered on the photos longer than any of the others. “Recognize someone?” I asked.
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