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“Agreed. Now we need to work out how to better trace the man himself.”
My phone rang with the police contact’s number. I answered.
“The car was reported stolen at ten past two this afternoon by its owner,” she advised. “So far, not recovered, though the number plate was recorded by one of our cameras about an hour ago.”
“Where was that camera?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.
She gave a location in a town south of us. He’d driven away. Thank fuck for that.
The woman continued. “In most cases like this, it’s a joyrider. We’ll find it trashed and abandoned in a day or two, no doubt. Joy rides are usually short-lived.”
“Can ye let me know when it’s found and if ye pull a print?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I thanked her and hung up, relaying the information to Valentine while simultaneously tapping out a message to Raphael.
Jackson: The car that hit Ariel’s was stolen from Inverness. It’s not been picked up yet but was tracked heading south. She’s safe in the tower. Keep her inside?
She’d hate me for it, but better safe than sorry.
Something was bothering me. I addressed Valentine. “It’s a tight timeframe.”
He steepled his fingers. “Ye were there shortly after four, which gives under two hours from the car being taken in Inverness and him getting here. What’s that, an hour’s drive?”
Slowly, I inclined my head. “Suggesting he wasn’t wasting any time in getting around the sites. We’re about forty minutes from the next snowboarding centre.”
“Very precise. Like someone on a time limit or a contract. Your description of the man blurred the lines between professional and personal in terms of what he might want from Ariel. Maybe this is an indication that it’s more the former?”
He had a point.
I knew from Raphael that he and his siblings had all lived in the US, despite being Scottish, but had run from their father. They were in hiding. The picture was getting murkier.
We left the pub, and I dialled Ben on the way back to the car, giving him the update.
“Raphael will take her to and from work,” he confirmed. “We’re all off-site tomorrow, but we can pick this up once we’re back. Make sure your head is in the game, aye?”
I gritted my teeth, not liking the diversion, even though that was my actual job. We were carrying out a risk assessment of a TV studio in Edinburgh ahead of Leo interviewing there. A much-needed training session for Valentine and me.
“It would be better if she didn’t leave the tower at all,” I griped.
“She made her choice. If needs be, we’ll take her on as a client. But until that moment, we can only give her advice. See ye in the morning,” my boss concluded.
I breathed out clouds of frosted air, frustrated. Ariel wasn’t just another client. She wasn’t a client at all yet.
Right now, all I wanted was to be standing in front of her, providing the protection I believed she needed.
Either that or tasting her perfect lips again.
Both would be ideal.
Fuck.
Chapter 6
Ariel
The falling of fat snowflakes softened the world around me, muting the squeals of excited kids and the shouts of older thrill-seekers on the slopes. I’d just escorted a class of kids back to their bus. The local schools employed our company to provide skiing lessons which the kids could take instead of regular PE.
