The House on the Shore

by Victoria Howard

  Pausing now and then to catch her breath and scan the steep sides, she studied every projecting ledge and every visible nook and cranny. She followed the rough track, worn into the bank by generations of walkers, sheep and deer. The further she went, the steeper it became. She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see how far she had walked.

  Once or twice she thought she heard the uncanny double echo of boots on rocks, and the occasional snap of branches, but when she turned round to see if someone was following her, she was alone.

  An old, narrow wooden-decked suspension bridge spanned the river at its narrowest point. On summer days it was a popular photo stop for those tourists with a good head for heights. Anna found it deserted, except for the famous Scottish ‘midge,’ which swarmed over the roaring curtain of water that flowed beneath.

  She walked across, the bridge creaking and swaying slightly under her weight. She paused halfway, and leant over the rail to peer down at the river below. Once on the other side, Anna followed the twisting, arduous path through the trees, swatting ineffectively at the tiny buzzing insects that nibbled at her unprotected flesh. Finally, no longer able to tolerate their itching bites, she sat on a boulder and slipped off her pack, only to remember that Luke carried the insect repellent in his rucksack.

  She pulled out her map, checked her position and tried to understand why Morag might have come this way. The more she thought about the reported sighting, the more perplexed she became. The gorge was a good three miles from the road; even if disorientated Morag would have followed the road, rather than head into the mountains.

  A branch snapped.

  A blackbird screeched in protest. Anna spun round.

  “Hello? Morag? Morag is that—”

  A hand clamped over her mouth. An iron-hard arm crushed her waist and dragged her off the boulder. She clawed at the unseen hands, her feet kicking wildly at whoever stood behind her. She sank her teeth into her captor’s palm and drew blood. There was a muffled curse.

  Something slammed into the back of her head.

  Her world exploded into a million stars and went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Anna! Anna!” Luke called, squatting down to examine the parallel markings in the grass. Lines of concentration deepened along his brow. These were vehicle tracks, no doubt about it. The flattened grass was still relatively green. He stood, shifted the weight of his pack and cupped his hands to his mouth.

  “Anna! Anna!”

  No answer. The air was still and heavy; perhaps his voice hadn’t carried to the riverbank. He followed the tracks back to the bend in the road. Shading his eyes against the sun, he looked back down the incline. From up here, it was easy to see where the tracks crossed the field before disappearing into a stand of birch and pine trees.

  He picked up his two-way radio. “Luke to base. Over.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Ewan, it looks like a car crashed through the dry-stone wall at the bottom of the hill, about a mile east of Home Farm. I’m going to check it out. Over.”

  “Checking the map. Hold on. Okay, Luke. I see where you are. I’ll radio the mountain rescue team leader and pass on your location. Over.”

  Luke clipped the radio back on his belt. With the dogs at his heel he re-traced his steps. The tracks cut a swath through the rough pasture, flattening everything in their path. Clumps of heather and cotton grass gradually gave way to silver birch and rowan, interspersed here and there with tall Scots pine. As he neared the trees, the ground inclined steeply, and he saw the raw wounds where branches had snapped off bushes and trees. A young birch lay on its side, its willowy trunk clearly no obstacle to whatever had passed this way.

  Treading carefully, he picked his way through the trees. He stopped and listened. Without warning, a combination of wet grass and loose stone sent him plummeting down a steep bank. He reached out wildly, seizing a tree root with his left hand. Thankfully, it held. His shoulder muscle screaming with pain, he thudded to a stop right at the edge of a high-sided ravine.

  Breathing heavily, he thanked God he didn’t roll another six inches.

  Then he saw it: Anna’s Land Rover.

  It lay in a heap. Rear wheels in the air, the hood curled around the trunk of a huge Scots pine, the only thing between it and the boulder-strewn floor of the narrow gorge fifty feet below.

  His heart pounding, Luke dragged himself backwards to firmer ground and got shakily to his knees. As bruised and sore as he was, somewhere down in the gorge lay Morag.

  Ensay and Rhona barked in the distance. He didn’t hold out much hope for the radio, but unclipped it from his belt and hit the send button.

  “This is Luke. Can you hear me? Someone answer!”

  A burst of static, then, “Search control. Over.”

  He offered up a silent prayer. “I’ve located the Land Rover. Repeat. I have found the Land Rover. Over.”

  “You’re breaking up. Confirm. You have found the vehicle.”

  “Affirmative. It’s halfway down the gorge. I can’t tell if anyone’s inside.”

  “Understood. Emergency personnel are on their way. Stand by.”

  Fearful of dislodging boulders lest they upset the vehicle’s precarious balance, he removed his pack and inched his way towards the mass of twisted metal.

  “Morag! Morag, are you there?”

  Silence.

  He hoped she was okay, but he feared the other possibility, which seemed much more likely.

  He called her name again. There was nothing but the sound of a few birds twittering in the branches of the trees above him and the tumbling river far below. He crawled back to his rucksack and opened a bottle of water, pouring it over his head. The cold stream felt good, but it did nothing to diminish his growing fear. This was Anna’s best friend. How could he not find her?

  His muscles and joints heavy with fatigue, he rose, and using first one tree, then another for support, wove his way back up the incline to the waiting dogs. He kneeled down, and gave them a reassuring pat.

  “Where’s your mistress? Where’s Anna?”

  The dogs panted, but gave no other reaction. Luke walked to the edge of the trees and called her name once more, hoping she’d respond. As before, there was only silence. Surely, she’d heard the dogs barking, so why hadn’t she come to investigate? He knew he should stay with the vehicle, at least until the emergency services arrived. He thought for another moment, turned, and with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, walked back to the dogs and sat down to wait.

  Luke leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes. Perhaps he was the target all along. He’d put enough people behind bars during his time with the agency.

  Could this be payback time?

  It was no secret he lived on Cape Cod, and that he kept Sandpiper in the local marina. Anyone could have climbed aboard and installed a tracking device without his knowledge. If they’d wanted to kill him, they could have done so while his yacht was in open water, where it would have sunk to the seabed without a trace. A small incendiary device, hidden in the engine compartment or fastened to the hull, would have blown him to hell and back. Everyone would have assumed it was an accident. He could even see the headlines—‘Cape Cod artist perishes at sea.’

  He shuddered.

  Before he had a chance to consider the possibilities further, a siren wailed in the distance. Anna must hear it, and realize its significance. Luke braced himself, this was the moment he’d been dreading. While he hoped his fears for the outcome were premature, he was also realistic. Morag’s injuries, no matter how superficial or serious, would have been compounded by the delay in finding her.

  A short time later a vehicle arrived, the words ‘Mountain Rescue Team’ emblazed on its side. A tall, burly, bearded man climbed out and strode towards him.

  “Andy Munro, Team Leader,” he said in a broad Scots accent. “Are you Tallantyre, the guy who found the missing vehicle?”

  “It’s hanging over the
gorge. It’s in a precarious position and looks very unstable. I couldn’t tell whether the driver is still inside.”

  A hand the size of a ham descended on Luke’s shoulder. “Well, we’d best find out.”

  “Wait a minute. Is this the whole team?” Luke looked over his shoulder at the two men accompanying Munro.

  “We’re just the first to arrive. The rest will be here soon, along with the police. There’s an ambulance on its way from Fort William.”

  “An ambulance? What about a doctor?”

  “Mike, our doctor, is travelling in the second vehicle. Don’t worry, laddie, we’ve all been trained for this. Your friend, assuming she’s still inside and alive, will be in good hands. Besides, if things are as bad as you say, it’s going to take some time to secure the vehicle and get her out.”

  “Sure, but won’t you need a helicopter?”

  Munro rested his other hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I know you’re concerned, but to be frank, the longer you keep me here talking, the more critical the situation becomes. I’ll decide whether we need to call in a helicopter nearer the time. Now, suppose you show me where the vehicle is. Robbie will wait here until the rest of the team arrives.”

  “It’s this way. What happens now?” Luke asked, as he, Munro and another man walked briskly towards the gorge.

  “Jamie, my deputy, will help me do a recce—that’s what we call a reconnaissance of the scene. Once we’ve decided on the best way to approach the vehicle, I’ll go down and assess the situation.”

  The three men crawled towards the edge of the ravine, and peered over, visually measuring its depth.

  “You can reach it, can’t you?” Luke asked.

  “I think so,” Munro replied. “But search and rescue is an imprecise affair, more art than science. Oftentimes our success depends on prayer. If you haven’t already started praying, I suggest you do so now.”

  Luke stood off to one side as Munro, already geared up in safety helmet and harness, abseiled down to the Land Rover. With great care, he manoeuvred around the vehicle, and examined it from every angle. Occasionally, his foot dislodged a small rock, sending it plummeting down the hillside into the gorge below. By the time he climbed back to the top, the rest of the team had assembled and were waiting to be briefed.

  “Right, lads. This is a tricky one. We need to stabilize the vehicle before we attempt to extract the driver,” explained Munro. “We’ll do that with a combination of pulleys and winches. I want a five-point anchor belay for the stretcher. It’s too dangerous to lower it to the bottom of the gorge for a carry-out.”

  Luke’s eyes widened in surprise. “Morag’s inside? Alive?”

  “Aye. Incredulous as it sounds, the driver is still inside the vehicle. She appears to be in a bad way.”

  As he turned to walk away Luke caught him by the arm. “There must be something I can do to help.”

  Munro was about to say ‘no’, but thought better of it. “You can give us a hand unloading the equipment.”

  Luke dragged a rucksack out of the Land Rover and heaved it on to his shoulder. It had to weigh all of thirty pounds. By the time he reached the top of the gorge he was breathless and sweating. After three trips he felt exhausted.

  The rescuers gathered on the top of the bank, a vast amount of equipment at their feet. Luke watched in awe as two team members set up a complicated system of winches and pulleys, while two others hammered wedge-shaped metal blocks into cracks in huge granite boulders for the rope belay anchors.

  Carefully avoiding tree roots and ropes, Luke made his way to where the medical team was assembling their gear.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking hold of one half of the stretcher and holding it steady while a young woman inserted a bolt.

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “This thing can eat fingers. I’m Irene, by the way.”

  “Luke. I can’t begin to tell you how impressed I am by all of this. You guys are truly awesome. They must pay you very well.”

  “I wish. We’re all volunteers. Didn’t you know?”

  “I thought you were like the police, on call twenty-four/seven.”

  “We are. But every team relies on donations.”

  “And yet you risk your lives trying to save others? I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ seems so inadequate.”

  Irene grinned. “Care to help me get the vacuum mattress out of this bag?”

  “The what?”

  “Vacuum mattress. We use it to immobilize anyone who’s been injured. Once the air is pumped out, it forms a rock hard shell around the patient and helps reduce the risk of further injury.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Things have changed quite a bit over the years. It looks like they’re getting ready to go down and stabilize the vehicle.”

  Luke watched from the safety of a rocky outcrop and wondered where Anna was. He became increasingly uneasy. No longer able to sit and watch, he got up and started pacing about. She must have returned to the hotel, he reasoned, rather than see her friend pulled twisted and broken from what remained of the Land Rover. Part of him wanted to go and find her, comfort her, but he knew he had to see Morag safely on her way to hospital.

  The minutes became hours. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the thud-thud-thud of a helicopter approaching, the pilot circling, looking for somewhere suitable to land. It seemed like an eternity before eight members of the team brought the stretcher bearing Morag to the top of the gorge. Luke listened intently as the doctor relayed a list of her injuries by mobile phone to the hospital, fifty miles away.

  “One female casualty. Approximately forty years of age. Weak pulse. Tachycardic…” The list ran on and on. He was too stunned to take it all in.

  “Casualty? You said she was alive!” Luke said, as the doctor stood back to allow the stretcher to meet the waiting helicopter.

  “You’re an American. You may call injured folk something else, but that’s what we say here. Yes, she’s still alive, but badly injured. We’ve managed to stabilize her.”

  “How bad?”

  “Quite extensive I’m afraid. Fortunately, she was wearing a seatbelt, but she has chest injuries, a broken collarbone, broken left and right tibia, and, as you would expect, she’s badly dehydrated. She’s in considerable pain, but I’ve given her something to help with that.”

  Luke hung his head. “Be honest, doctor. Is she going to make it?”

  “Her age and the fact that she appears to be relatively fit are factors in her favour. However,” he paused and looked away. “I’ll not lie. The next twenty-four hours are critical.”

  “Can she speak? Can I talk to her?”

  “She’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. You can try, but no longer than a minute or two, mind you.”

  “Morag, can you hear me? It’s Luke,” he said softly, taking hold of her hand.

  Her pain-filled eyes fluttered open. “Anna—danger,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “What about Anna? Morag!”

  The doctor brushed him away. “I’m sorry, she’s lost consciousness.”

  “But—”

  “Let us get on with our work, man. We can’t delay getting her to hospital any longer.”

  Luke nodded and backed off, allowing the stretcher party to make their way to the waiting helicopter. The door closed. The rotors sped up, the downdraft pushing him into the ground as it lifted off into the haze. He turned and walked back to where Munro and members of his team were resting.

  “Is there any chance you could lower me down so I can have a look at the vehicle?”

  Munro’s blue eyes stared at Luke. “Are you mad? You’ve seen for yourself how unstable it is.”

  “Call me crazy.”

  “After examining the marks on the road, the police are of the opinion it the accident was caused by steering failure.”

  “Anna took good care of that old piece of junk. I know. I drove it a couple of times.”

  Munro scratche
d his beard. “You think it may have been tampered with.”

  “Let’s just say I have a suspicious nature.”

  “All right, laddie, but you should be having this conversation with the police, not me.”

  “If I’m right, I will. Now, do I get to go down, or not?”

  Munro glanced at his deputy for signs of objection. “What do you think, Jamie? Should we let him have a look?”

  “I don’t see how it can do any harm, not if he’s careful. I’ll get him a harness.”

  Equipped with safety helmet and gloves, Luke took a deep breath and stepped backwards over the edge of the gorge. Only the skill of six men and a couple of ropes stood between him and certain death.

  Exercising extreme caution, he inched his way under the mangled Land Rover. Unsure of what he was looking for, he examined each wheel in turn. The tyres appeared undamaged, except…he pulled off his glove and ran his fingers over the brake pipe. They were covered in fluid.

  It took several minutes for him to reach the safety of the trees and free himself from the ropes. Munro looked at him questioningly.

  “Thanks, Andy. I saw what I needed to see,” he said, stepping out of the harness.

  Without another word, he turned and walked towards the waiting dogs.

  He’d kept his promise. He’d found Morag, all right. Alive. She might not make it, though. He knew he had to tell Anna.

  But where was she?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alistair Grant squatted on the filthy cellar floor in the disused farmhouse, three miles from Killilan House. He knelt next to Anna’s battered body and felt her wrist for a pulse.

  “You’ve hit her too hard,” he spat at the other man.

  Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Stop fretting. I only tapped her on the head.”

  “Then why is there so much blood?” Alistair dabbed ineffectively at the back of Anna’s head with his handkerchief.