“Was Harcus arrested?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He’s out on bail now, but he’s bragging to anyone who will listen that he never touched Tim and he has witnesses who will testify on his behalf. It was dark out and Danny told me Tim’s wife is begging him not to testify against Harcus. She’s terrified of him.”
“I wonder how many other complaints there have been.”
“Danny said Harcus’s temper is explosive. He must not have impulse control.”
“Apparently not.”
As he drove through the darkness, looking for road signs to navigate his way, he thought about their plans for the next day. “We need a map of Dunross.”
“You might be able to pull up directions on your laptop. I know Gladstone’s office address. It was easy to remember. His office is at 3 Lickey Lake Road.”
“Lickey Lake?” Smiling, he said, “Yeah, that would be easy to remember.”
He pulled over and called Sinclair to get MacCarthy’s office address. When he ended the call, she said, “I’ll bet it isn’t too far from Gladstone.”
He laughed. “Not far at all. MacCarthy’s address is 3 Lickey Lake Road. They’re in the same building.”
“Could they be partners?” she wondered. “And if so, should we trust Donal Gladstone now that we know MacCarthy hired men to kill me? Could he be in on it?” She continued without letting Michael respond. “Still, he asked Detective Walsh to talk to me because he was worried about me, and why would he do that if he was in on it? If he trusts Donal Gladstone, then maybe I should, too.”
Isabel tilted her head back and stared up at the vast night sky, catching glimpses of the moon through breaks in the clouds. An old song she’d composed came to mind, and she began to softly hum it.
Michael liked the melody and asked, “Did you write that?”
“Yes, I did. It’s a romantic song about everlasting love and commitment. I call it, ‘What a Crock.’？”
He burst out laughing. “I swear I never know what you’re going to say. ‘What a Crock’？ When did you become so cynical?”
Since I figured out you’re going to break my heart, she thought but didn’t say. “It’s just a song.”
“Sing it for me.”
For some reason she was embarrassed to sing with just him in the car and darkness all around them. It seemed too intimate. She shook her head at first, and then, with a little coaxing from Michael, she gave in. She sang the song but wouldn’t look at him until she was finished.
“That wasn’t cynical at all,” he said. He wasn’t one to give a lot of praise, and she was surprised when he added, “That was really beautiful, Isabel.”
They passed through one village and then another, the only light coming from the cottages along the route. It seemed they had been driving a long time, but when she checked her watch, less than half an hour had gone by.
A short time later they pulled off the main road onto a side road almost too narrow for two cars to pass. Tall trees hovered on both sides for a short distance until there was a clearing and they drove into a lighted circle, the grand entrance to a huge stone manor house that had been turned into a luxury hotel. Nick had pulled off another impossible feat, securing a room for them at this exclusive, out-of-the-way resort.
Though the manor had been modernized, it still displayed the elegance of a past century. Even more appealing to Isabel, it offered twenty-four-hour room service. There was a charming pub at the back of the main floor, and they could have stepped in for a quick dinner, but all she wanted was a hot shower.
Their room was quite large. The king-size four-poster bed seemed enormous after the beds she had been sleeping in the past couple of nights. In this one, Michael would have room to move around.
There was also a long plush sofa across the room, should he decide to sleep there.
“What do you think? Will this be okay?” he asked.
“I’m never going to leave.”
He laughed. “I guess that’s a yes.”
A small alcove led to a large newly renovated bathroom around the corner. There was a huge shower enclosed in glass and a large marble vanity with two sinks, but what drew Isabel’s attention was the old-fashioned claw-foot tub in front of a stained-glass window.
A hot bath was just what she needed to help her decompress. Her mind was filled with worries.
James Reid, the Patterson Group, Harcus . . . All of them were motivated by greed, and all would love to have her gone.