Be Still My Bleating Heart (A Scottish Highland Mystery Book 4)

by Hannah Reed

  Had she really had information valuable to the case?

  I’d been in such a rush, I’d ignored her. Mainly because she’d just inquired about a position as a special constable and I recall thinking she was trying to ingratiate herself with false claims.

  But perhaps she’d had something on Morag. Those two had been tight lately. Something might have slipped. Morag had found out that Rhona was talking to me about the murder.

  Now, suddenly, neither woman was available.

  Where were they? And why were they missing?

  I reeled at one gut-wrenching possibility.

  Chapter 21

  I didn’t know where to start looking for them. Driving around wasn’t going to work.

  I began to drive around anyway, through the village center, past the harbor, through neighborhoods.

  My cell phone alerted me to a call from Sean.

  Driving and talking on a mobile is illegal in Scotland. No excuses allowed and hefty fines or revocation of driving licenses. But I didn’t have a choice. These were desperate times. Besides, I was the police.

  I answered, continuing on aimlessly.

  “Yer Morag Lisle is a professional gambler,” Sean said.

  “Really? She never mentioned it.” Although, I hadn’t asked her about her background, either.

  “Slick with the cards. Have ye spoken tae her?”

  “I’ve been to the room she’s renting, but she wasn’t there. The landlady said she left early. Rhona isn’t home, either.”

  I screeched to a halt, feeling helpless. “I need to find Morag as quickly as possible. Rhona could be with her. I’m sensing something bad is about to happen!”

  “I might be able tae help. Lisle’s vehicle has a registered address, a cottage, just shy o’ the village o’ Dornoch, thirty kilometers or so up the coast.”

  “I’ve been to Dornoch with Vicki.”

  “Then ye know tae take A9. Ye have GPS, right? I’ll get ye the address. Here it is. 124 Beach Road.”

  “Relay this information to the inspector. I’m going to lose coverage soon. I’m down to one bar.”

  I plugged in the numbers and took off. Sean might not have perfected his people skills, but he was turning into a valuable asset with his research abilities.

  Thirty kilometers. Roughly eighteen miles. If I drove fast, I could be there in twenty minutes.

  Morag had said she lived in Edinburgh. Another lie.

  Heading for the cottage was only a guess, the only lead I had, and if I was wrong, well…I couldn’t focus on what might happen to Rhona. If it hadn’t already occurred. A cottage tucked away from sight would be the perfect place for another murder.

  But what was Morag Lisle’s connection to Stuart or Teague? Why had she been snooping around the doctor’s surgery? And why hadn’t she been on our short list to begin with?

  The first two answers eluded me, but I knew the last one. Because we’d thought that Stuart was the actual target. And because we were too quick to blame Dr. Teague. And because Morag had the only solid alibi.

  Until we caught the robber.

  I’d known a professional gambler in the states. He made his living based on wit. He wasn’t afraid to take risks, was overly confident in his ability to control situations, and was extremely disciplined.

  Morag had been checking out the surgery prior to the supper, leaving me certain that he was her intended victim. Perhaps she’d planned to kill the doctor after the supper. Then McKay and Teague had argued. Stuart wouldn’t have made a good impression with Morag. In fact, he hadn’t based on her reaction at the time. She left right after the doctor had.

  Had her attention really shifted from Teague to McKay in such a short period of time?

  Professional gamblers were also quick on their feet. She could have revised a new plan in the blink of an eye, deciding that seeing the doctor in prison for a murder he didn’t commit would be more satisfying than seeing him dead.

  Ten minutes out from the address, I tried to call the inspector. It didn’t go through, the lack of bars on my cell phone explaining why. Surely the area closer to Dornoch would have coverage. I’d try again in a few minutes.

  The road followed the coastline, one I remembered as a beautiful drive, but hardly noticed today. Dolphins and seals played in the firth when Vicki and I made the trip. The seaside resort once was a royal burgh and is known for pebbles along the beach that are the size of a man’s fist. Dornoch means pebbly place. Dornoch also had gone down in infamy as the last place in the Highlands to burn a witch—Janet Horne in 1727. We’d visited the Witch’s Pool and the stone commemorating her death.

  The GPS told me that I’d arrived at my destination.

  I turned onto Beach Road and pulled over, deciding not to announce myself by driving up to the cottage.

  I had limited coverage, enough to make a call, but the inspector didn’t answer on his end. I assumed he himself had entered a low cell tower area. A sense of urgency covered me like a shroud.

  I stepped out of the car, silenced my phone, tucking it into one pocket and placed the pepper spray into another. For the first time since becoming a voluntary constable, I wished I was investigating in the states where law enforcement officials are armed.

  I began walking up the drive, leaving my car on the road. The cottage at number 124 was whitewashed. Bluebells and primrose burst from a small garden and evergreens lined the drive. The air smelled of pine resin. And a red Audi was parked next to the cottage.

  Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t Morag’s car.

  “Are you sure about that address?” I stage whispered to Sean, turning back to the road, noting that I’d missed several calls from him as well as two from the inspector in a matter of minutes.

  “142 Beach Road, like I said.”

  “You said 124. You inverted the numbers. Are you sure this time?”

  “I’m sure. But ye need tae wait fer backup. The inspector’s been trying tae reach ye. He discovered there was a Woodward sister. Mia Woodward. And she’s an unstable one at that. Been in and out o’ treatment centers.”

  Could news get any worse? The inspector wasn’t close enough. Another hour or more and anything could happen to Rhona. “Did he see a photograph? Anything to connect her to Morag?”

  “No such luck.”

  “How long before you can get here?” I asked.

  “I don’t have me beat car. Vicki’s broke down and she borrowed it fer shopping in Inverness.”

  Apparently, the news could get worse.

  “How could you do that?” I hissed. “Of all the…thanks for nothing.”

  And I hung up.

  Calm down. Take deep breaths. You don’t know for sure that Morag has Rhona. Or that she’s the mentally disturbed sister of the dead patient.

  I found the situation more distressing than ever. The least I could do is find out if Rhona was in the cottage. Then I’d make a decision whether to wait over an hour for the inspector or risk a confrontation on my own.

  Morag’s Vauxhall Corsa was parked in the drive. The cottage needed a fresh coat of paint and the flower beds were overrun with weeds. Nothing at all like the home next door. But, like the other home it had access in the rear to the coast.

  Should I peek in the windows? That might expose me and my intentions. I couldn’t see a way around it.

  I marched up to the cottage and knocked.

  The door swung open as though I’d been expected.

  Chapter 22

  Morag had her car keys in her hand and was obviously in the act of departing. Her poker face told me nothing, whether she was surprised at my arrival or not.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, voice neutral, not pleasant, but not cold either.

  I’d rehearsed on the drive and acted as believable as possible. “Your vehicle registration is linked to this cottage. I’m glad I found you. Rhona has a family emergency, but her daughter can’t find her. I was hoping she was with you.”

  Mo
rag studied me, and I buried my liar’s face under a look of deep concern that wasn’t so hard to achieve considering present company. “She’s here, down by the water, collecting pebbles fer her collection. I’ll show you where.”

  “I really need to—” I hesitated, taking a step forward. “Would you mind if I used your bathroom first?”

  What could she say? I’d taken another step forward and she’d taken one back, allowing me enough of an advantage.

  She tucked her car keys into the light windbreaker she wore, stepped aside, and let me pass.

  My intention was to slow us down to give the inspector time to get to the cottage so I wouldn’t have to handle her alone. Although, was what Morag claimed true? Was Rhona collecting rocks?

  In the bathroom, I did what every good television investigator would do. I waited an appropriate period of time before flushing the toilet to mask the sound of the medicine cabinet opening. Next, with water running, I scanned inside drawers in a chest against the opposite wall.

  I almost missed it, but not quite. Under a stack of white bath towels, I found a red purse.

  I’d seen it on the bar counter. It belonged to Rhona.

  My heart jumped into my throat. After all my theorizing and with all my imaginings, I hadn’t anticipated a situation like this. Trapped alone with Morag. Rhona most likely dead. The killer on the other side of the door, playing cat and mouse with me.

  And while I thought I’d been crafty with the bathroom ruse, I’d also given her plenty of opportunity to arm herself against me, if she hadn’t been armed already. I palmed the pepper spray as I opened the door.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

  Morag led the way through a garden in the rear of the cottage, opened a gate and walked onto weathered wooden steps leading down to the rugged coastline. She descended first, calming my fear that she would ask me to walk down ahead of her. At least I was safe from a rear attack until the bottom.

  “The pebbles that she wanted are the larger ones down that way.” She gestured to the left. “We’ll most likely find her there with the bucket she brought along.” Morag headed in the direction she’d indicated, discussing pebbles. “Flint, quartzite, granite, pumice. This is considered a shingle beach because of the pebbles.”

  “A rock collector’s paradise,” I said, stepping over a sea of small pebbles along the shore, balancing carefully as they were wet and slippery. Waves slapped sharply at my feet, the width of shoreline narrow between the sea on one side and steep cliffs on the other.

  “This is as far as I’m going,” I said, stopping after scanning the beach in both directions. “I don’t see her.”

  “There’s a cave not far, set into the cliff. Maybe she’s inside.”

  “Why would she be inside a cave?”

  Unless she’s dead and the cave is her coffin. Was it to be mine as well? What had I been thinking to come down here alone with Morag?

  She faced me, too far to hit her with pepper spray, a small gun drawn from her jacket. I’d done police homework regarding just such an event. Instead of carrying a deadly weapon, I was instructed to make eye contact, to talk and to attempt to humanize myself.

  I never felt so helpless and exposed.

  I also knew that gun fights in the movies weren’t realistic. Accuracy only comes with practice. Did Morag have the skill to hit me? She’d have to take a stance and take time to aim through the sight.

  “Talk to me,” I said, making eye contact. “Where is Rhona?”

  “Dead. She figured it out. Even before ye did yerself, giving me no choice.”

  I shook my head, not having to feign sadness, and took a step forward. “Your real name is Mia Woodward.”

  She nodded. “I’d been searching for the doctor. The internet is a wonderful thing. It took some time, but my hard work paid off and I came for him.” Her trigger finger had relaxed, the barrel of the gun still pointed in my direction but the barrel now pointed down at rock level.

  Keep talking. “You were checking out the surgery. I have the wig.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In evidence,” I lied, wishing it wasn’t in my car. “You need to turn yourself in.” I was on high alert, trying not to stare at the gun. Eye contact. Communicate.

  Morag sneered. “He killed my brother and got away with it. My plan should have been perfect. I’d stab him tae death after the supper that yer friends so graciously invited me tae attend, then fake the robbery tae establish an alibi. But then that silly, vain man gave me a better idea, an alternate plan.”

  “You decided to murder Stuart and set up Teague.”

  “Yer too smart fer yer own good.”

  “I’m smart enough to make sure I have backup,” I said, turning my head and raising my eyes to the top of the ridge as though expecting someone while taking another step toward her, the pepper spray slick in my sweaty palm.

  “I don’t believe a word ye say. Yer one of those do-gooders just like Rhona. And yer careless, bursting into bad situations on impulse.” She smiled smugly after noting my discomfort at her true words. “I’m a gambler and can read ye like a deck of cards.”

  “How did you take Stuart’s knife away from him and how did you know how to use it?”

  “I appealed tae the pompous arse’s ego, admiring his sgian-dubh, asking tae take a closer look at it and he handed it over. And as tae the proper knowledge, ye can find anything on the internet. I studied anatomy lessons so I could use my new skill on the murdering doctor. Justice has been served and yer not about ye ruin it.”

  Morag grinned, her eyes for the first time showing the depths of her hatred, the insanity within her. “To the cave,” she said. “You first. After you drop whatever is in your hand.”

  I stared into the barrel pointed directly at me.

  I considered running into the waves, but the water wasn’t deep here, so diving down to avoid a spray of gun fire wasn’t a viable option. I’d be forced to move slowly over the stones and my exposed back would give her time to sight in on me.

  Instead, I had no choice but to drop my only weapon.

  “Get moving.”

  I passed close to her and pretended to slip on the wet pebbles. My arms shot out as though struggling for balance, while throwing my shoulder into the arm holding the gun. To my utter surprise, Morag went down flat on her back.

  She struggled to sit up, to take aim.

  But I was on her.

  We wrestled for possession of the weapon. Both of our hands gripping it. Both of us panting with exertion. I felt all-consuming fear mixed with a growing sense of rage. This crazy woman had killed Stuart and Rhona and was trying to gun me down. Adrenaline seemed to give me renewed strength.

  I blindly found one of the large pebbles with my free hand, closed my fist around it, hauled my arm back, and struck Morag in the forehead with as much force as I could muster.

  Her body relaxed momentarily, allowing me the opportunity to grab the gun from her and rise. At first her expression registered surprise. Then I saw her vision clear, her eyes narrowing. Morag rose on one knee, staring at me.

  I struck her again, not holding back, not caring whether I seriously injured her or not. All I knew was that Morag had to be stopped.

  She rolled back down. I pulled out the handcuffs I’d recently been approved to carry and restrained her with them.

  Satisfied that she wasn’t going anyplace soon, I demanded, “Where is Rhona’s body?”

  After a pause long enough that I seriously considered kicking her until she answered, she muttered, “In the boot.”

  Chapter 23

  I pulled the keys out of her pocket and made my way as quickly as I could through the pebbles. They became smaller again on the cottage side of the shingle beach. Taking the steps two at a time, the gun dangling in my hand, I ran to Morag’s car.

  There I hesitated, not sure if I could bring myself to open the trunk and witness whatever gruesome act had been committed on Rhona. I heard a car app
roaching and looked up to see the inspector’s police vehicle pull up with Jamieson driving and Sean riding in the back on the driver’s side. Leith Cameron burst out of the passenger seat and headed my way.

  “Go through the garden and down the steps,” I told the inspector, who was right behind him.

  “You disarmed her?” the inspector asked, veering my way, his eyes widening when he saw the gun in my hand.

  “She’s cuffed. Here, take this thing.”

  Jamieson accepted the weapon and ran for the steps, calling to Leith, “I can handle a handcuffed woman on my own. Make sure Eden’s all right.”

  Leith pulled me to him in an embrace. I’m pretty sure I clung to him like a lifeline that had been thrown to a woman drowning in sorrow. Tears threatened now that I felt safe.

  But a banging sound from inside Jamieson’s police vehicle ended the moment. Leith released me. “We left Stevens locked in the backseat,” he said, walking over and opening the door.

  “I’m going tae help the inspector,” Sean called, hurrying away.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Leith.

  “I called the station looking fer ye, since ye weren’t answering my calls.”

  “I never got them.”

  “Stevens explained how ye were after a suspect and that the inspector was on his way. I hitched a ride with Jamieson, meeting him out on A9. I wanted tae talk tae ye about something important tae me, but it can wait until we handle this situation.”

  He took my hand in his. I looked at our locked fingers. At his hand, realizing it was the same tender hand from my reoccurring dream, that of the faceless lover.

  “I need to talk to you too,” I said, feeling an electric current charging through my body and allowing it to release instead of bottling it up.

  Ami had been right all along. But I’d been too afraid to risk opening my heart, afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same. But his eyes told me otherwise. Our friendship was about to become something much more. I knew it with total confidence.