Page 106 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I suspected it was company policy not to divulge personal information about their customers, but I decided that as I was fumbling around for any leads, it wouldn’t hurt to ask anyway.

I rolled my eyes at my flickering computer screen as the woman I spoke to delivered her well-rehearsed diatribe about client confidentiality and refused to tell me anything.

The air in my chest deflated like a balloon. I decided to try a different tack. “You’re telling me that nobody by the name of Belle Raven has hired a car from your recently?”

“As I told you, madam,” sighed the bored voice, “I’m not permitted to say.”

“Right,” I replied after a moment. “I thought as much. Sorry to trouble you.” I was about to hang up when I decided to try again, more urgently this time. “Look, I’m not exaggerating when I say that this woman is … well, I think she could be a threat to someone’s safety.”

There was a sigh into my ear from the other end of the line. “You did say the name she was going under was Belle Raven?”

I held my mobile a little tighter to my right ear. “That’s correct. As you might have guessed, that isn’t her real name.”

She let out a low breath and I could hear her tapping at her computer keyboard. “Well, what I can tell you is that I’ve been tasked with electronically filing hires for the last three weeks – oh, joy – and that name hasn’t appeared.”

So she must have used her real name to hire a car or she had used another car hire firm.

The receptionist sounded sympathetic. “Sorry.”

I put down my phone and pulled a frustrated face. If she was so intent on causing Rafe grief, surely she wouldn’t just up and leave Loch Harris like that? Perhaps that was just what she wanted people to think.

Wendy had promised to ask around the local hotels and bed and breakfast places to see if she had booked into one of them. I would just have to be patient and wait to hear back from her.

In the meantime, I’d offered to rustle up some sandwiches and filled rolls to take round to Dad’s for us all to have for lunch.

I fetched the seeded brown bread I’d bought, together with a bag of floury baps, and raided my fridge for tomatoes, cucumber, salmon, tuna, and a tub of egg and cress.

While I swept a knife across the top of the glowing yellow butter, I struggled not to dwell on a dark-eyed musician. It wasn’t easy.

There were barks of laughter, intermittent twangs of guitar strings, and thrashes of drums emerging from Dad’s garage by the side of his cottage when I arrived.

The garage door was flung open and inside there were cables slithering around the concrete floor.

Dad was stationed behind his glittery drum kit, spinning the sticks idly between his fingers. Mikey was adjusting his microphone stand and, positioned either side of him, were Ed and Stan on bass and rhythm guitars respectively. To the left of Ed was Jack on keyboards.

I took a couple of steps backwards so they wouldn’t see me and hovered by the side of the garage. I could feel the vibrations from their stirring guitars reverberating through me while I leaned there against the wall.

“OK guys,” said Mikey. “Let’s go again after three.”

I heard him mutter and then Dad’s drum solo cranked up in volume before Mikey’s raspy, rocker voice began singing and Ed and Stan’s guitars broke in over the top.

Mikey’s vocals continued to rise and fall until Jack performed a frenzied chorus on his keyboard. It reminded me of rainwater striking my cottage roof.

“Guys. Guys!” shouted Dad all at once over the music. “Stop a sec.”

The song screeched to a halt. “Come on,” urged Dad. “We can do better than this for my girl, can’t we?”

A whoosh of emotion and grateful pride shot through me like a whirling hurricane.

I hitched the strap of my bag higher onto my shoulder and prepared to appear from around the corner of the garage.

Ed’s next words made me stop in my tracks. “Layla is a credit to you, Harry. She’s a wonderful young woman.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, which made my throat constrict even more.

I composed myself and then barrelled round to greet them as though I had just arrived. “Hi guys,” I beamed, sniffing back a stray tear that was desperate to escape down my cheek. “Sounding great.”

Mikey performed a mock bow. “You’re too kind.”