Page 67 of A Scottish Country Escape

From through in the shop, I heard the landline ring from behind the counter.

‘I’ll go,’ I insisted, rising to my feet. ‘You sit and have your lunch.’

* * *

That afternoon, I tried on three more occasions to ring Dexter, but he didn’t pick up and his voicemail kicked in. An uneasy sensation stole over me. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it felt like we were getting somewhere with looking for Linda Carlucci, but we still had nothing to go on. It was all so frustrating.

I was sure she would reappear again after her and Dexter’s confrontation, but there had been no more sightings of her in the local area.

Grandma was exchanging pleasantries with a little girl and her mum, who had promised her one of our new animal-shaped pencil cases. There was much debate over whether the fox design or the badger one was the best, as I carted Gran’s digital radio from the back of the shop and plonked it on top of the counter.

I swivelled the control button until it read ‘Fir Haven Radio’. I lowered the volume of my iPod, which had been playing some of Gran’s favourite Ella Fitzgerald songs. ‘I hope this appeal works. We’re getting nowhere at the moment.’

Grandma flapped her thigh-length, cream cardigan. ‘Have faith, sweetheart.’

The local news came to an end and then the presenter announced there would an appeal for information.

‘Ms Elle Cassidy of Fir Haven is appealing for information regarding the whereabouts of a Mrs Linda Carlucci. This is an urgent matter and therefore it would be appreciated if any information, however insignificant it may be, be passed on as quickly as possible.’

The presenter then went onto detail an eyewatering reward being put up by Dexter, which would lead to locating Linda.

I had made sure that Dexter’s name wasn’t included in the appeal. He had enough to contend with, without having the national press getting hold of the story. The appeal concluded with my email address and mobile phone number.

The broadcast finished as quickly as it had begun and the local presenter began his 3pm afternoon show, with a blast of Sir Elton John.

I clicked the radio off again and resumed Ella Fitzgerald. My chest jumped as my mobile rang in my handbag. I rummaged under the counter to find it. Dexter’s name sprang out of the screen. ‘It’s Dexter,’ I explained to Gran.’ I bet he just heard it too.’

I started to ask how he was, but as he spoke, I felt my expression transform from expectation to one of stunned hurt and biting disappointment.

‘I’ve been thinking, Elle. Things aren’t working out for me here.’

I clutched my mobile hard. Confusion took over. ‘What are you talking about? What do you mean?’

There was a pause long enough to make my stomach clench.

‘I’ll still support the nature reserve.’

‘But what?’ I fired back. My heart pirouetted to the floor with a sickening thud.

There was a grim silence before he managed to answer. ‘I’ve decided to sell Hawk West Hall and move back to London.’

Chapter Forty-One

‘But you can’t,’ I stuttered. ‘You can’t give up. Not now.’

‘Elle, my writing career is going into freefall.’

‘Yes, but running away isn’t the answer. We need to resolve it.’

‘I’m not running away.’

Gran vanished into the kitchen to give me some privacy, patting me on the hand as she went.

My heart felt as though it were withering in my chest. ‘Didn’t you just hear the radio appeal? I think that will work.’

Dexter’s anguished sigh travelled into my ear. ‘I did hear it, but what are the chances it will bring any results?’

My breath pricked at the base of my throat