I tried to ease the stiffness in my limbs but found I couldn’t stand. The cold of the stone walls and floor had left me chilled to the bone and shivering. The painkillers had worn off, my throat was raw, and my head was throbbing again. I knew I should force myself to get up and move around, but I couldn’t summon the energy. I lay there fighting the panic, trying not to dwell on the thought that this wretched hole in the hills would be my tomb. What a ludicrous way to go.
I’d been in many life-threatening situations down the years, but I never had time to think. The best I could hope for was time to react. Waiting here in the dark was torture. A parade of regrets wound its way through my head like a conga line. Worse than the things I’d done were the things left undone. The time I’d missed with Ben, my lack of faith in Grant, the things I’d left unsaid.
I slumped against the wall once more and drifted in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity. When I opened my eyes again, the darkness felt even more intense. I could hear a scuffling noise in the corner and realized there must be mice around. That horror was enough to get me to my feet, but my knees buckled and I clutched at a decaying barrel with one hand and my spinning head with the other. The scuffling became louder. Rats? Whatever it was, it was scratching at the rocks, and what shred of fortitude I had left was deserting me. I tried to scare the creatures off by pounding on the barrel with my fist, but the scratching continued, the sound magnified in my head by my own terror.
If only Liam were here. I could almost hear him whining. As I strained to listen, the whine became a muffled bark.
“Liam? Liam, is that you?” I croaked. He must have wandered in circles in the passages and come back to where he started. At that point, I gave up and began to cry. If he was going to be stuck down here, too, I at least wanted him on my side of the rock pile.
Liam continued barking, the sound reverberating off the walls of the passageway beyond. He sounded like a whole pack of dogs.
Then I heard the sound of voices shouting in the distance and I panicked. Were Kristen and Nick back? The shouts grew louder as Liam continued barking like mad, and in the midst of the chaos I heard my name being called. It didn’t sound like Nick or Kristen. I tried to cry out in response but found I had no voice left. I grabbed the dead flashlight and banged it against the metal barrel frame. Soon I could hear Grant’s voice on the other side of the rocks, and I sank to the floor, tears of relief rolling down my cheeks. I felt relieved at being rescued, but just as glad to hear Grant’s voice.
I could see the light of flashlights through the hole in the rock and soon heard the noise of stones being shifted.
“Abi? Abi? Are you alright?” Grant yelled. “Stand back if you can. We’re breaking through.”
A mass of stones came tumbling into the cave and a hole large enough for a man emerged from the resulting cloud of dust. A blinding light filled the space, and Sgt. Rothes climbed through.
“Are you hurt?” He rushed to my side as I tried to get up.
“Only a little.” I realized I must look awful, caked in dust and covered in the blood from my hands. “Kristen and Nick…” I tried to croak out the words, but only managed a thin whisper.
Liam came bounding through next, followed by Grant. I tried to stand once more and Grant caught me as I lurched forward, wrapping me in his jacket and hauling me against him, his arm clamped around my shoulders. I leaned against him, shaking uncontrollably, allowing the warmth of his body to calm me.
“You’re okay. It’s over now,” he murmured as he tried to keep Liam from jumping at my face and licking every inch of exposed skin.
“What is this place?” Rothes asked. He shone his flashlight around the broken casks littering the floor.
“A cave used for storage in the old days,” I whispered. “But how did you find me?”
“The dog,” Rothes said. “He appeared like magic out of one of the caves. We’d searched it twice already. Went through it again with a fine-tooth comb until we found the narrow opening he’d come through. With a bit of encouragement he led us here. You’re lucky neither of you were hurt in the cave-in.”
“But what about Nick and—”
“Not to worry,” Rothes interrupted. “Michaelson’s men are rounding up Nick Bartolli. He’ll be in custody soon. And we’ve sent for the doctor. She’ll be waiting for us up top.”
“What do you mean you sent for the doctor?” I gasped.
“I know you’re a strong lass, but Doc Ramsey needs to take a look at you.”
“You sent for Kristen? Where is she?” I looked from one to the other in disbelief. “She and Nick are the ones that buried me here.”
“Are you sure?” Rothes looked stunned and incredulous in equal measure.
“Do you mean am I sure they chained me up like an animal, blocked the exit with rocks and left me here to die? Yes, I’m sure.”
Grant pulled me closer and turned to Rothes. “You’d better get back up top and alert Michaelson.”
“Do you think you can walk?” Grant asked, turning back to me as Rothes disappeared through the hole once more.
“With help, but not too fast.”
Cam had remained on the other side of the fall, clearing the rocks from the entrance, and now there was a decent-sized opening. Grant boosted me up as gently as he could and Cam helped me slide down the other side, with Liam scrambling along behind.
“Good to see you, lass,” Cam said as he poured me some water before wrapping me in a blanket to ward off the chill. Grant climbed through last, dislodging another fall of rocks.
“We’d better get out of here,” Grant said, supporting me with one arm and grabbing a flashlight in the other. “This whole place could come down any minute. Cam, can you go on ahead and get some help? We’ll need a doctor, but not Ramsey,” Grant added. “And see if you can round up some hot tea and more blankets.”
Cam hurried away, and we limped on behind at a slower pace with Liam leading the way. Our progress was slow as Grant was forced to half drag, half carry me along. My head was killing me, but curiosity overrode the pain.
“How did Michaelson know to go after Nick?” I asked.
“He hasn’t told me anything,” Grant said. “But I did manage to pry out of Bill that they found the car that ran you off the road and linked it back to the Bartollis. It was a rental. Junior claimed he crashed into the wall of the hotel garage, but Michaelson’s men found paint from the estate car embedded in the damaged bumper and they issued a warrant for his arrest. I was told that they’ve been looking for him since yesterday. His father claims he has no idea where he is.”
“He may not.” I tried my best to fill Grant in on what I’d gleaned from my time with Nick and Kristen.
He was silent for some time as we stumbled along. “I can’t believe Kristen would go that far. Selling stolen property is one thing, but murder?”
“People will do anything if there’s enough money involved,” I said.
“Do you think Kristen was responsible for Claire Jones’s death, too?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. She admits to being in Edinburgh that night, and her only alibi was Nick. I suspect if Michaelson digs a bit he can link Kristen to Claire’s death as well.”
My head was hurting and my heart was pounding from the exertion of the walk. We’d reached a dead end and stopped. I tried not to sway as Grant worked out the dynamics of propelling me through the narrow opening in front of us, but was unsuccessful. I gasped in pain as I brushed past a jagged rock in the wall.
“Sorry,” Grant said with a grimace, as he looked down at the blood running from a new gash on my arm.
“It’s alright. Keep going,” I said, turning to reassure him with something approximating a smile.
We stood frozen in the narrow passageway, Grant holding me upright along the length of his body. I looked into his eyes and found myself rising to meet his lips as he bent his head. Ill-advised, ill-timed, and infinitely intoxicating. In his arms I felt safe,
but his lips hinted at a passion that would be all-consuming and dangerously addictive. I allowed myself to be swept along for a few dizzying moments in the dark before my knees gave way. Simple dehydration sadly, but Grant steadied me.
“I shouldn’t have…,” he murmured, “not the time or the place. Let’s get you out of here. Do you think you can manage to slide through on your own? It’s too narrow for both of us.”
Liam had already shot through the opening, and with Grant steering I managed to ease my way through with only a few added scratches. I have no idea how Grant managed, but it must have been painful.
The daylight streaming in from outside was blinding after so many hours underground, but it felt wonderful to breathe fresh air again. Grant eased me along and sat me down on a large rock near the mouth of the cave. Hunter was waiting with a thermos of hot tea, more blankets, and Patrick.
He ran to my side and hugged me gingerly, fretting over the blood and dirt on my hands and face. I leaned against him, feeling suddenly very weak now that Liam and I were safe. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I reassured him. “But how did you get here?”
“I was worried sick about you after we last talked. I manufactured some meetings in Edinburgh this week so I could have an excuse to come back up and check on you. The police came into the Society asking questions the day after I saw you, and I knew something was going on. I got nervous when I couldn’t reach you on your cell, and I decided to rent a car and drive up. Hunter told me you’d gone missing when I arrived at the Glen last night.”
“Aye, we’ve been out on the hills all night,” Cam said.
“Thank you for not giving up on me—all of you.” Grant and Cam owed me no allegiance except through their relationship with Ben, and yet they had stood by me and rescued me. In their own way they had welcomed me into their world, and after nearly leaving it, I was finally starting to feel a part of it. I felt guilty about all the horrible things I’d imagined about Cam and Grant and all the staff at the Glen. Maybe there was still time to make amends and find my way into the Abbey Glen family.
After a brief rest and a drink, I felt strong enough to tackle the path down the hill to the Glen. As we descended—Grant on one side, Patrick on the other—I could see two police cars and an ambulance in the yard along with Michaelson’s dark sedan. The ambulance pulled out with its lights flashing as we made our way around the shell of the Malt Barn. Michaelson strode over to meet us.
“Wasn’t that for Abi?” Grant asked.
“No,” said Michaelson. “But we can call another if you need one.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather go by car. It looks worse than it is.”
“I’ll need to get a statement as soon as you’re able, Ms. Logan,” Michaelson said.
“She needs to see a doctor,” Grant said, guiding me into the backseat of his car. “Can’t the questions wait?”
“It’s alright, Grant,” I said as Liam crawled across me and lay down with his head in my lap. “I’d rather do this while it’s fresh in my mind.”
I did my best to download every detail I could remember from Kristen’s story. Michaelson recorded my ramblings and took notes as he went along, stopping only long enough to alert the Edinburgh authorities about Kristen’s possible connection to Claire’s death. After twenty minutes or so, he gave way in the face of Grant’s thunderous glares. His displeasure was palpable even from the other side of the yard.
“I’ll be by to see you later to review your statement. In the meantime, you should go get checked out. You’ve been through the wringer in the past forty-eight hours.”
“Have you found Kristen and Nick?” I asked as the others returned.
“We have Dr. Ramsey in custody, and Nick Bartolli’s being transported to the hospital in Edinburgh,” Michaelson said, nodding in the direction of the ambulance.
“What happened?”
“We’re still trying to piece things together, but it looks as if their usual path out of the tunnels was cut off by the searchers,” Michaelson said. “They must have decided to split up. Dr. Ramsey managed to make her way down a series of passages that open out behind her house. We arrested her there. Bartolli must have snuck back down the waterfall side to Abbey Glen, and had the misfortune to arrive at roughly the same time as my men. Best we can tell, Bartolli must have taken refuge in the Yeast Room in one of the empty vats. He must not have been aware of the danger from the carbon monoxide. Took them a while to find him, and he was unconscious when they did.”
“Will he be alright?”
“Jury’s out on that one. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter 26
You know you’ve been accepted when you take priority over a stash of forty-year-old vintage whisky in this corner of the world. I felt honored that Grant, Hunter, and Cam insisted on settling me into the hospital in Stirling before racing off to secure the casks that were being retrieved from their hiding place at Kristen’s. The whisky, now under police lock and key in Abbey Glen’s storehouse, was supposed to remain undisturbed as evidence. Of course, Grant managed to siphon off a few bottles before Michaelson came by to restrict his access to them.
After a night in the hospital, I’d been allowed to return to the Haven on the condition that Patrick stayed with me. He was in heaven, working his way through a sample bottle of Martin Furguson’s vintage 1962 and taking his nursing duties to heart.
Technically, I was on bed rest, but I’d insisted on moving to the sofa in the sitting room so I could keep up with everything going on around me. Richard Thomas arrived before I even left the hospital, and had stayed, watching over the estate and keeping a fatherly eye on me. My adventures on behalf of the Glen had melted what remained of his rigid demeanor and we were now on a first-name basis.
I’d been treated to a whole new side of Richard over the past forty-eight hours. I could see why he and Ben had been so close. And who would have thought he and Hunter would get on like a house on fire? I often saw them bent over Hunter’s latest creation, and Richard even had a go with a chisel and a piece of wood before nicking himself and declaring Hunter’s legacy safe.
Liam had rebounded from his adventures with some bruises and a slight concussion. The vet said to make sure he got plenty of rest. He’d taken that to heart and he was lazing in front of the fire, reveling in his fame. Numerous well-wishers had brought bones and other treats as news spread of his part in the rescue. I’d been getting tokens as well. Floss and Malcom Robinson sent over a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk the size of a suitcase. Furgie was keeping us in hot soup, and even Siobhán sent flowers.
“The role of hero suits Liam,” Patrick said as he flopped into an armchair by the fire.
“He was born to it,” I replied. “And, credit where credit’s due, he was amazing.”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Patrick leaned down and scratched Liam’s head. “And so were you. I knew you’d piece it all together.”
“Are you kidding? I was almost dead wrong. Literally dead wrong.”
“Nonsense, you just didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle until the end. You still understand people, but you have to learn to trust your instincts.”
“Good to know. I need a shot of confidence before heading back to work.”
“So you won’t stay? Even now?”
“I couldn’t.” I sighed. “For so many reasons.”
“Is one of those reasons Grant MacEwen?”
I couldn’t meet Patrick’s gaze. “One of them.”
“I don’t get you. You were worried that he was trying to kill you. Now that you know he’s not, you’re leaving.”
“I don’t want to screw things up. I always do. I’m gone too much, and I’m no good at the whole relationship thing. Most times it doesn’t matter, but I don’t want to make a mess of things here.”
“I think you’re scared,” Patrick insisted.
I couldn’t admit out loud how right he was. I was scared. Scared to screw up the friendship Grant and I were
just beginning to enjoy. Scared that this might turn into more than a fling. Scared that I might get badly hurt in the end.
“I need this place, Patrick. It’s the home I haven’t had since Ben sold the first Haven. I can’t really explain it, but I feel like I’m a better person when I’m here. Time here isn’t measured in hours or days, it’s measured in seasons. I have more space—to grow, to think, to breathe, to live. I don’t want to risk losing that over some short-lived Highland fling.”
“Come on, what were Grant’s three words?” Patrick asked.
“I really don’t have any idea. It’s complicated, but for the first time I didn’t get three clear words. I have one, but I’m keeping that to myself until the rest emerge.”
“Then you’ll have to come back.” Patrick’s eyes twinkled.
“Of course I will.”
“Well, at least I’ll have a place to stay when I visit.”
“You’ll have to earn your keep if you’re going to turn into a squatter. You can start by answering that,” I said as a knock at the front door sent Liam skidding into the hallway, barking like mad.
Grant entered the sitting room, and Patrick quickly excused himself, muttering something about helping Richard make tea.
“How’re you feeling?” Grant asked.
“Sore and tired, but getting stronger,” I replied. Grant settled into a chair some distance away. He’d stopped by once before, but hadn’t come near me since he handed me over to the staff at the hospital. I should have been relieved since I was leaving, but I had to confess to a vague feeling of disappointment.
“Any news about Nick Bartolli?” I asked.
“Nothing good. He’s still in a coma, and it sounds like he will be for some time. Even when he comes around, they doubt he’ll be able to stand trial. In the end, the Bartollis will buy their way out of this mess.”
“What about Kristen?”
“She’s in jail. They think they can link her to Claire Jones’s murder. She won’t admit that she saw you talking with Claire on the day of the funeral, but Bill says they have a witness that will place Kristen in the club the night Claire died.”
Single Malt Murder Page 27