“Where are those houses going to be built?” Michael asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s somewhere up around Dunross. MacCarthy told me one of his clients is selling the land to some big development company out of London.”
“The Patterson Group?” Michael suggested.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
Michael half expected to hear a roar coming from the other room if Isabel was listening, and he was sure she was. She had to be furious.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Ferris asked.
He was just now figuring it out? Michael slowly nodded.
“Yes, you are,” Sinclair said.
Ferris looked as though he was going to cry. “If MacCarthy was still around he’d get me out of this mess. He’d tell you I was just delivering information.”
“What do you mean, if he was still around? Where did he go?” Sinclair asked.
“He died, two or three days ago. I don’t know exactly when. I had just gotten back from Boston and I was at the pub when I heard. Everyone was talking about it. They said his heart just gave out. It was a shock, though some people said they weren’t surprised. He was a glutton for women and whiskey.”
MacCarthy had been the next to be hauled in for interrogation. With enough pressure, they’d hopefully have gotten the lawyer to give up the name of his client. Sinclair couldn’t hide his disappointment. He was now going to have to figure out another way to hunt down the man who wrote the instructions or, as Michael called it, the kill order.
“You know, Inspector, the more I think about it, the more convinced I become that I didn’t do anything wrong.” Ferris sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. His smug confidence had returned.
“I didn’t break any laws. I was just the messenger. I think, with a good solicitor, I’ll be let go.”
Michael couldn’t listen to another word. He had had enough. He quietly got up and left the room.
TWENTY-NINE
ISABEL WAS READY TO PITCH A FIT. YET ANOTHER EXPRESSION SHE HAD PICKED UP FROM HER
aunt Nora, but in this instance it definitely worked. She had heard every word Ferris said, and she was beyond furious. Someone was selling land near Dunross to the Patterson Group. What land could it be but Glen MacKenna? And what was Reid’s involvement? Was he playing both angles? Was he also trying to broker a deal with someone else, some weasel who evidently thought he owned the land and could sell it? And just who was the weasel? Only one name came to mind. Clive Harcus, the Terror of the Highlands.
She was the one little glitch in their fantasy plan. They would have to get rid of her in order for their scheme to work, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
Michael found her pacing around the desk in the small office. He motioned for the officer with her to leave, closed the door behind him, and then went to Isabel and pulled her into his arms. He needed to hold her close, to know she was safe, for he was still reeling from hearing Ferris so casually talk about the plan to kill her.
Isabel relaxed against him and closed her eyes. A long minute passed without either of them saying a word. She was thinking how secure she felt with his strong arms around her.
He was thinking about doing bodily harm to the bastard who wanted to kill her.
“Michael, you’re squeezing me.”
He lessened his hold but wouldn’t allow her to step back.
Her lips touching his neck, she whispered, “That was some interview, wasn’t it?”
“I wanted to throw Ferris through the wall.”
“I would have helped.”
“Yeah?” he said, smiling. He let go of her.
“Could we leave?”
“Not yet, but soon,” he promised. “I have to go over a few details for tomorrow with the inspector. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Shouldn’t take long,” she’d learn, was code for “at least an hour.” Danny kept checking on her and finally sat with her and told her all sorts of interesting and horrifying facts about Clive Harcus, including one that involved Danny’s own family. His brother-in-law had ended up in the hospital because of Clive Harcus’s temper.
When Michael and Isabel left the station, a chill had settled in the air, and it was so dark they could see only as far as the headlights on their car allowed.
“How do people walk around out here at night?” Isabel asked. “You can’t see your hand in front of your face.”
“Flashlights and phones.”
“I suppose,” she agreed. “Are we staying close to Dunross tonight?”
“No.”
She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Where are we staying?”
“Away from here.”
Exasperated, she said, “That’s helpful.”
“There’s a place about an hour away from Dunross. Nick’s working on it.”
“Working on finding a different place to stay? What about Inspector Sinclair? Will he know where we’ll be?”
“He thinks we’re going to stay at the Dorn.”
“But we aren’t going to stay there?”
“No. It’s too easy for someone to get in and out.”
“Will you tell the inspector where we are?”
“No. I don’t want anyone to know.”
She understood. It wasn’t a matter of trusting the inspector, but the more people who knew their location, the bigger the chance of that information getting out.
Michael seemed preoccupied. She watched him for a minute and then remarked, “You’re working something out in your mind, aren’t you?”
“Just going over tomorrow’s schedule.”
“The only appointment we have is with Donal Gladstone.”
He nodded. “I’d like to go to MacCarthy’s office either before or after your appointment. Sinclair has officers there. He’s probably on his way to MacCarthy’s house now.”
“Danny told me Dunross is a tiny village,” she said. “MacCarthy’s office can’t be far from Gladstone’s.”
“Danny’s the fast talker at the police station, right?”
“Yes, Danny had firsthand knowledge of what a mean bully Harcus is.”
“How’s that?”
“Danny’s brother-in-law, Tim, and his pregnant wife, Laris, have lived in a small cottage on Glen MacKenna for several years. They were just sitting down to supper one night when Clive Harcus knocked on their door and told them that he was the owner of Glen MacKenna and that their rent had been doubled. They had five days to pay up or a late fee would be tacked on. Can you believe it?”
She didn’t wait for Michael to answer. “Tim stood up to Clive and said he wasn’t going to pay him anything.”
“Who did Tim usually pay the rent to?” Michael asked.
“Graeme Gibson, the groundskeeper.”
“What did Harcus do when Tim refused to pay him?”
“He told him he’d be sorry and left. The next evening Tim was walking home alone and Clive ambushed him. Danny said Clive’s a big man, and he beat Tim near to death. He broke his jaw, Michael. Tim ended up in the hospital and had surgery. His jaw is still wired shut. Can you imagine how painful that would be?”