“Isabel?” He said her name after a minute when she hadn’t answered him.
“It’s beautiful . . . pristine.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. The view was spectacular. There were gently rolling hills in the distance and black-faced sheep in the meadow, grazing on grass so green it looked like velvet. More sheep dotted the hills beyond. A clear wide stream flowed down from the highest hill and curled like a ribbon across the valley floor. Squinting against the sun she thought she caught a glimpse of a waterfall near the peak of that same hill. She was probably wrong, but it was a fanciful hope all the same. There were some stone cottages as well, but only a few dotting the hills.
The longer Isabel studied the landscape, the stronger her determination grew to keep it out of Patterson’s hands. She wasn’t going to let anyone destroy this magnificent land. She was going to sell it to someone ethical who would value it. Finding the right buyer would be difficult but not impossible. She would put stipulations in the sale to make sure they would protect the land and keep it as beautiful and unspoiled as it was now.
“It’s almost too perfect to be real,” she remarked. “Like paradise.”
“Almost?”
“There’s a serpent living in one of those cottages.”
“Ah . . . Harcus.”
As they sat quietly gazing over the beautiful scene, Isabel began to daydream. What would it be like to live here? she wondered. She could go hiking up the hills, she supposed. She had never hiked before, but there was always a first time for a new adventure. And fishing. She could go fishing, too.
Though she’d never attempted it, she was sure she would enjoy it.
Michael’s cell phone rang, pulling her back to reality.
He looked at caller ID and said, “Inspector Sinclair.”
The conversation was quick, and when Michael ended the call, he told Isabel, “The inspector wants us to meet him at Rosemore Police Station.”
“Where’s Rosemore?” she asked, reaching for the map again.
He scratched his jaw. “I’m not sure. His assistant gave me directions, but he was talking so fast, and his brogue was so thick, I only caught a couple of words, ‘past Garve.’？” He laughed and added,
“At least that’s what I think I heard. I speak five languages, but I didn’t understand any of what that man was saying. I’m not even sure it was English.”
“I love their brogue. The sound is musical.”
He could come up with a lot of words to describe their brogue. Musical wasn’t one of them.
Getting to Garve was easy, but finding Rosemore took work. The GPS on Michael’s phone wasn’t any help, and there weren’t any signs. They could have stopped and asked someone, but Michael was a Buchanan, so that wasn’t going to happen. Men in his family didn’t ask directions.
When they finally found Rosemore, they were surprised by how large the village was.
“Someone really needs to put up a couple of signs,” Isabel said. “Isn’t it pretty here with all the flowers blooming?”
Michael noticed two teenage boys, one with a bloody nose, fighting over a package, and a drunken older man throwing up in a trash bin. And yet Isabel noticed the flowers blooming. She always saw beauty in everything. Even people. She looked for and usually found some good in them.
No wonder he was drawn to her. She had a sweet pure heart . . . with a bit of vinegar in her attitude . . . toward him, anyway.
The building they were looking for was painted white with blue trim. If there hadn’t been a police sign on the lamppost out front, they would have thought it was just another house.
? ? ?
INSPECTOR KNOX SINCLAIR GREETED THEM AT THE DOOR. HE WAS A HANDSOME MAN AND
terribly polite. Tall and thin, he was impeccably dressed in his dark blue uniform and starched white long-sleeve shirt with a navy blue tie. Isabel thought he looked quite stylish. His hair was blond and trimmed in a buzz cut. His mannerisms reminded her of Detective Samuel, though the inspector was much younger, perhaps in his late thirties.
There were two other men waiting to meet them. The older of the two told her his name was Matthew. He shook her hand, then turned to answer the phone. The younger man’s name was Danny, and he looked as though he had just gotten out of school. As soon as he opened his mouth she knew he was the fast talker who had given Michael directions over the phone. She had to seriously concentrate on what he was saying to understand him.
Once the introductions were made, Sinclair led them into an office around the corner from the entrance and asked them to take a seat.