Eilean Donan Castle, end of July 2021
“Ye know, people do disappear in the Highlands.”
Detective James Murray glanced at Leonie Peterson, a sweet, plump woman in her fifties, who walked alongside him towards Eilean Donan. At the end of the long bridge, the castle grayed against the brilliant blue sky like a vision from the past.
Tension creased the space between Leonie’s eyebrows. He understood her concern.
How could two people disappear in the museum, under the noses of other visitors and in plain view of security cameras? Was there more danger to visitors? Was she or any of the employees under suspicion?
Rogene Wakeley, a recent Oxford University PhD graduate, and her eighteen-year-old brother David, both Americans, had visited Eilean Donan two weeks ago and hadn’t been seen since.
Given it had happened in a medieval castle, with its thick walls, dark corners, and old furniture, people could easily imagine ghosts, faeries, and spirits. But his childhood and adolescence had taught him logic and simple psychology was the answer to anything that appeared strange, magical, or required faith.
“People disappear everywhere,” James said noncommittally.
The quiet around him pressed against James’s ears. Birdsong echoed from the sapphire surface of the loch splotched with yellow, orange, and green seaweed. Somewhere in the distance, a few cars rustled past on the A87. The moss green and yellow hills of the Highlands around them were mirrored in the still water. The air was so crisp, so fresh, and even the fishy scent of loch and algae were refreshing, invigorating.
As if his lungs were rebelling against the clean air, James craved a cig. He reckoned he had time for a few drags before they reached the castle. He fished the pack and his lighter out of the pocket of his gray suit jacket.
Bloody hell, only two left.
Leonie shook her head. “But here, ’tis just unexplainable…”
He stopped and lit up, the first drag already loosening the tension in his chest and sending his head into a pleasant spin. Leonie frowned at him as many nonsmokers did. Resuming walking, he puffed out the smoke, part of him regretting how the smell shielded the scent of nature. “There’s always an explanation. It’s just the matter of finding it.”
“Do ye have an idea already? I mean, ye and I both saw it on the footage with our own eyes. They went into the castle, down into the cellars—which they were not supposed to do!” She gave a firm shake of her head. “And never came back.”
The grayscale security footage James had seen back in the Oxford Police office and again today in the management building on the other side of the castle showed Rogene and David Wakeley first in the queue to buy their tickets. Then the siblings had purposefully marched down the bridge to the castle—not looking around and enjoying the view like regular tourists.
Rogene, dressed practically, wore a big travel rucksack that looked stuffed as though she was preparing for days out in nature. The car she’d rented had been reported by the rental company about a week after she’d arrived here from Oxford with her brother. She’d have a big fine to pay—if she ever returned.
James exhaled a stream of smoke. “I can’t share any ideas I have, unfortunately.”
“Right,” said Leonie. “I understand that. Only, the young woman disappeared once before, on the night of the Fischer wedding, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And yer lot looked for her then, too.”
“Yes. When she came back, she claimed to have been with a man she met on the castle grounds that night. Angus Mackenzie. That’s what she’d told the police.”
But none of the Angus Mackenzies James had contacted had ever met Rogene.
And yet, based on her careful preparations combined with her huge rucksack, Rogene seemed to have known she was going somewhere forever this time. Another interesting fact was that she was pregnant, and the date of conception coincided with her absence in May.
She seemed to be prepared for a long trip, and not for taking her own life as her note had suggested. He doubted very much that a pregnant woman would prepare her suicide so meticulously.
Even his sister, Emily, who had recently lost her fiancé, had told him the baby she was expecting had become the light of her life.
Leonie’s lips puckered like a raisin. “I dinna know an Angus Mackenzie. But the island grounds are accessible to the public even if the castle is rented for a wedding.”
“Right.”
As they approached the gatehouse, James looked up the tall walls. An odd thought occurred to him—how would it feel to stand atop the wall with a bow in his arms, string taut, arrow pointing at an approaching medieval enemy? He hadn’t held a bow and an arrow since he was fourteen years old, but it had been an important part of his everyday life when he’d lived in the Unseen Wonders cult. Archery had been his stress relief and a means to help provide his mum and sister with food since the age of eight.
Leonie unlocked the door within the portal of the gatehouse and pushed it open. As they passed through, they entered a small, quiet, sunlit courtyard. Brown-gray walls loomed at him from all sides. The biggest building was the main keep, with a stone staircase leading to a heavy door on the first floor.
James threw the butt of his cigarette on the cobblestone-paved ground and stepped on it to put it out.
Leonie glared at him. “Do ye mind throwing that in a bin, please?”
Inwardly cursing at himself, James leaned down and picked up the butt. “Sorry. Long night. Didn’t mean to disrespect history.”
He threw the butt in the bin.
Leonie sighed and gestured at the keep. “This is where Rogene and David went. The main keep.”
“Great.”
They proceeded through the courtyard towards the building, where Leonie unlocked the arched door.
Inside, a small hall stretched straight ahead. Leonie gestured to their left where, down a short flight of stairs, was another large door. “This leads to the Billeting Room where wedding receptions are held.”
She showed him down the small hall where they came to a barrier familiar from the security footage, with the sign Staff Only. Leonie pointed at a watercolor painting on the wall next to them. It showed a medieval castle on an island, with massive walls and four towers.
“’Tis a reconstruction of the castle the way it may have looked in the fourteenth century, in the time of Robert the Bruce.”
“Interesting…” James muttered. “And this tower right here would be one of those?”
She pointed at the widest tower. “Aye, this has always been the main keep.”
He gestured to the door. “I’d like to see where Rogene and David went.”
She walked down the hall. “Oh, aye, of course.”
“Any idea why someone might want to go down there?”
“She’s a historian, so I suppose she was especially curious. She and her colleagues did find Bruce’s letter hidden in the wall, after all.”
Right, Rogene and her friends Karin and Anusua had found a letter Robert the Bruce had written to King Edward I where he’d stated his intention to give up his fight and his throne. The letter had been quite a shock for the historical community and had made Rogene’s name. Her career was booming. One more reason not to disappear or end her own life.
Leonie opened the barrier and unlocked the door. As she flicked the switch, light illuminated narrow stone stairs leading down. James followed her, breathing cold, wet, moldy air.
He had a strange sense of uneasiness as he descended. This reminded him of something, something he’d desperately wanted to forget. A private farm, the old Victorian cottage among the woods and abandoned oat fields. The scent of wet dust, of woodsmoke and the warmth of the fire that had desperately tried to chase the ever-present cold away. His mother, crying yet again, huddling in the corner of an old cottage.
It’s just an old castle, that’s it. Just another case to solve, another bit of chaos to turn into order. Another presumed mystery to bust open and take apart.
As the stairs opened into a long, broad hall with furniture covered with white protective sheets along stone walls, James’s phone beeped.
It was a text message from Emily.
The consultant can squeeze me in today for the scan.
He exhaled a small sigh of relief. He’d insisted she go for an ultrasound because the baby had been moving less for the past few days. She was thirty-nine weeks pregnant, and told him she wasn’t worried. But James was. She was almost at her due date. He couldn’t let her lose her baby on top of everything else...
