LITMIR.BIZ

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why hadn’t he? If he was genuinely there on behalf of the family to collect one of their paintings and the gallery owner had randomly attacked him, why wouldn’t he have reported her to the police?

      At the very least he’d have withdrawn the offer for her to evaluate the rest of the collection. She hadn’t exactly acted professionally. The fact that he hadn’t only added to her suspicions that something dodgy was going on.

      And she’d had her fill of dodgy men. She wasn’t about to get involved with another one. No matter how blue those eyes were …

      She rolled over, more awake than ever.

      In among the panic she’d felt at seeing an unauthorised man in her basement, she’d also felt a frisson of heat, which wasn’t welcome.

      She reasoned that it was her hormones having a laugh at her expense, throwing a tall, cute guy in her direction to mess with her instincts. But instead of making him trustworthy and decent, recompense for having been scammed by a cheating liar in the past, the gods had made him a carbon copy of her ex. A good-looking charmer, after whatever he could get, and doing whatever was necessary to ‘close the deal’.

      Well, she hadn’t fallen for it. She’d confronted him. Challenged his motives. Resisted his attempts to charm her … and then stabbed him.

      Oh, God. She buried her head under the pillow.

      She’d been so mortified by her actions she hadn’t even told Tasha what had happened. By the time her sister had arrived home the blood had been mopped up, the Woman at the Window had been returned to the showroom and she was in bed pretending to be asleep. If she’d told Tasha, then her sister would have wanted to know why she hadn’t called the police. More significantly, why she’d gone on to invite the blue-eyed thief into their flat and fed him cake. As she didn’t know the answer herself, it’d seemed better to keep quiet.

      Her alarm buzzed. It was six thirty a.m. and she hadn’t slept a wink. She sighed and blinked as the faint Scottish sunlight seeped through the small cabin window, obscured by a thick pleated curtain. She climbed out of bed and spent the next thirty minutes attempting to wash and dress in the cramped space.

      A guard knocked on the door. He handed her a breakfast parcel and recommended she head to the lounge car to enjoy the views.

      After thanking him, she locked the cabin door behind her and made her way down the corridor. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. A sensible person would have opted for glasses today instead of lenses, but they were packed at the bottom of her suitcase and she hadn’t fancied unearthing everything.

      As she entered the lounge car, the sight that greeted her more than made up for a sleepless night. They were travelling through the Cairngorms.

      She found a seat on a couch and took a moment to absorb the wash of purple heather speeding by. The early morning mist hadn’t quite lifted and in the distance she could see snow-capped mountains, at odds with the onset of summer.

      She opened her breakfast parcel, delighting at the smell of hot porridge. The tightness in her chest momentarily eased. This was an adventure. She needed to stop focusing on life’s stresses and enjoy the experience. After all, where else could you look out of a window and see a stag standing proud just a few feet away, his antlers backlit in the morning sunlight. It was breathtaking.

      Her elation briefly dipped when she sensed someone watching her. She turned to see a man disappearing into the corridor. Had he been watching her? She caught herself. It was much more likely he was returning to his cabin to fetch something. Yes, that was more plausible.

      She resumed eating her porridge, followed by a banana and a hot cup of tea. She pocketed the mini shortbreads for later and settled in for the remainder of the journey.

      The rocking train helped to relax her stiff muscles. She slid lower on the couch and rested her head against the window, admiring the views as they sped past. Green fields filled with sheep, cows and deer. The horizon dominated by huge mountains, the ground covered in dense yellow gorse and clusters of trees. Beautiful.

      The train passed through numerous stations without stopping. She caught glimpses of signs in both Gaelic and English, the old station buildings built from grey slate. They travelled over the Glenfinnan Viaduct, the location for Harry Potter and his flying car. Her tummy flipped as the train climbed higher and the landscape disappeared below, almost as if they were airborne.

      She was so mesmerised that she startled when the guard announced they were pulling into Inverness. She had to run back to her cabin to collect her things.

      A few minutes later, she was ready to disembark. Lifting her suitcase onto the platform while trying not to drop the wrapped nineteen-inch painting tucked under arm proved harder than anticipated. She could have used a courier to return the painting to its rightful owners, but the cost of insuring a potentially valuable Renaissance painting would have been astronomical. Plus, there was no guarantee a courier would take proper care of it. It was safer this way.

      Thankfully, she wasn’t trying to contend with heels. She’d opted for her 1940s blue-spotted sailor jumper, three-quarter-length jeans and red ballet pumps in an effort to appear ‘casual’. But she was still making a meal out of trying to unload her luggage. A friendly guard came to her rescue and wheeled her suitcase towards the exit.

      Something made her glance back. Once again, she had the sensation of being followed, but there was no one there. She focused on finding the car hire place, which was situated inside the adjacent shopping precinct.

      Having filled in the paperwork, she sent Tasha a quick ‘I’ve arrived’ message and made her way down to the car park.

      When she spotted her ‘budget’ vehicle in the allotted space, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It was a mint green Fiat 500. Would her luggage even fit inside? It was going to be a squeeze.

      Her suitcase took up all the boot space, so the painting had to be tucked behind the driver’s seat. At least it was secured in a wooden case.

      Fifteen minutes later, with her satnav programmed for Shieldaig, she was ready to head off.

      Getting out of the car park was the first complication. She inadvertently took a wrong turn and had to double back on herself. Maybe if she hadn’t turned off the roundabout too soon she’d never have noticed the red car behind, but when the car did a U-turn so it could pull in behind, her suspicions grew. Another coincidence?

      She put her foot down, using the busy dual carriageway to gain some distance from the car behind, driving more erratically than she would normally. It did the trick. As she headed away from Inverness, the red car was nowhere in sight. Good.

      She settled back, put the radio on and concentrated on following the satnav’s directions. The first part of her journey took her through the city, but the landscape changed as she ventured further into the Highlands. It was hard to focus on driving when the sight of huge mountains and tranquil lochs kept diverting her attention. After an hour’s driving, she saw a sign for a photo spot by Glen Docherty and decided to stop.

      She pulled into the gravel turn-off and got out. The first thing that struck her was the force of the wind. It whipped her hair around her face, tickling her nose. She breathed in. The air was cool and fresh and smelt of … nothing. Just air. Bliss.

      The view ahead was stunning. A deep valley cut through the hills, their banks covered in grasses and heathers, the foliage bending in the breeze. The colours ranged from bright green to muted browns and coal greys. The sky looked alive, the clouds moving at such speed they cast shadows across the landscape, changing the colour palette.

      She wanted to capture the moment in paint. Not that she could do it justice. She settled for taking a few photos, eager to send them to her sister.

      Her equilibrium was interrupted by the sound of a car.

      She glanced over. The red car from earlier was pulling into the car park.

      Anger overrode any fear for her safety and she marched over, noticing the taxi licence displayed in the window.

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