“Walsh told us you sent him to talk to Grace MacKenna,” Nick said. “Is that right? And if so, why?”
“Yes. I didn’t expect there would be any danger for him there in Boston . . . I shouldn’t have asked him . . .”
They could tell Gladstone was rattled and gave him a moment to calm down. Then Noah repeated his question.
“I was concerned about her coming here and wanted my friend . . . Detective Walsh . . . to talk to her face-to-face and impress upon her the need to be on guard. I didn’t want her to come up here alone.” He added, “It might not be safe.”
“In what way?”
“I haven’t lived here long, and it takes time to build trust with your neighbors. The people around here tend to keep to themselves and are hesitant to talk to outsiders. One night I received a call from a man who wouldn’t give me his name, but he said he was concerned. He told me he was in a pub late one night and heard three men talking about Grace MacKenna. One of them said that she was an interloper, and that no one wanted her here. The man on the phone said he was worried for her safety and that I should tell her not to come. It could be dangerous. I asked him why he called me, and he told me he knew I was handling the MacKenna estate. He also knew I was taking over for another solicitor and wanted to move to another building. He knew he could trust me because he had heard from several others that I was nothing like MacCarthy and that I was honorable and would look out for Miss MacKenna. He disconnected the call before I could ask him more questions.
“I had spoken to Grace about making arrangements for her to come to Scotland and she told me she was heading to Boston and would be there for a week. Then I got the anonymous call. I couldn’t reach her so I called my friend, and he tracked her down. I feel terrible that I’ve caused him all this trouble. And I hope Miss MacKenna got the message and isn’t planning to come to Scotland just yet.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late. She’s already there.”
“Oh no. Grace will be walking in blind. No one up here is going to tell her anything. I doubt they’ll even talk to her.”
TWENTY-FOUR
ISABEL COULDN’T GET THEM TO STOP TALKING. WHEREVER THEY WENT, SHOPKEEPERS AND
restauranteurs, customers and diners were eager to tell her all about their beautiful village or town and the colorful and charming people who lived there. They were fiercely loyal to one another—a trait she greatly admired—and were proud of their country and their heritage.
By the end of Monday Michael and Isabel had fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine, but it took a while to get there. Before they had even started their journey, they had an argument. They were in his car, parked down the street from the auto shop. Michael had taken the key to Isabel’s rental inside and had a lengthy conversation with the owner. When he came out, he was smiling.
“You were inside a long time,” she commented. “What were you talking about?”
“Cars.” He didn’t embellish with the fact that they discussed her car in particular, and maniac drivers.
“I have our route figured out. As I’ve mentioned before, I want to stay off the highways and take back roads to Ballyloch. We could spend the night somewhere around there, finding a hotel where we could look out at the North Sea.”
He reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a map. Flipping it open, he handed it to Isabel. “Inverness and Dunross, you’ll notice, are northwest, and Ballyloch is northeast.
You want to go in the opposite direction?”
“Yes, I do.”
She could tell he was going to be difficult, so she rushed ahead to explain her plan. “I want to get the lay of the land and a feel for the people.”
He didn’t understand. “For God’s sake, Isabel, we’re not on a sightseeing tour.”
“I need time,” she admitted with a sigh.
“You what?”
“I need time to absorb what has happened. I know I’m going to have to deal with it soon.”
Michael rubbed his brow. “Sweetheart, do you need to read what was on that flash drive again?”
“Why?”
“So you’ll remember there are people here who want to kill you?”
He couldn’t be more blunt than that, she supposed. She decided she would have to be honest with him, and if he then thought she was weak, that was on him. “So I’ll remember? I haven’t stopped thinking about it, and inside I’m freaking out. I need time to calm down and come up with a plan. I