Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

“I don’t think so,” I said and headed for the woods.

Amy hurried alongside me. “What makes you say that? Did something come up while I was gone?”

“No but think about it. If my new neighbors are military, why would they murder someone and leave the body to be discovered? They would dispose of it in a flash.”

“Maybe someone,” —Amy jabbed me in the side— “intruded on the murder scene and they didn’t have time. Also, the choice of weapon made sure no one heard the murder taking place and we both know how sound travels in the woods.”

“Then we better be light on our feet.”

“Funny. But seriously we could be dealing with some really bad guys here.”

I lifted the binoculars that hung on a strap around my neck. “We’ll have a quick peek and see what we can see and be on our way.”

“Why is it that it never works out that way?”

“This time it will. A quick peek and we’re done,” I assured her.

We squatted down once at the edge of the raise to peer down at Willow Lake Lodge. Several construction trucks that were there from before were still parked in front of the place and a couple of guys in camos lingered on the porch talking.

“Are those the two?” Amy whispered. “I see why your brother called them hunky.”

“The two I met were even hunkier,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“You know it might not be so bad having a military training facility right next to you. I’d do recons with you anytime. Let me have those binoculars so I can get a better look.”

I surrendered them without protest since nothing was really going on down there that interested me. “I’m going to walk along this side of the rise and see if I can spot anything. Wait here for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Amy said with a smile, and raised the binoculars to her eyes.

I crept as quietly as I could, using the trees as cover as I kept my eyes on the lodge. I was surprised at all the work being done to the lodge. It was obvious a lot of money was being dumped into the place and it was nice to see it being brought back to life. Though, what kind of life was the question?

I stopped and had a perfect line of sight between two trees through a new window that had been installed on the second floor and saw men busy putting up sheetrock. With all the work going on here by local contractors why was there no news of it being a military training facility? Unless the government wanted it kept quiet, but then wouldn’t there be better security?

Not seeing anything that could help me, I turned around and retraced my steps. When I caught sight of Amy, she was waving frantically at me, her eyes wide and pointing down at the lodge. Her lips were moving, though her words were silent, but that was okay since we both had perfected reading each other’s lips when we were young and didn’t want anyone else to know what we were talking about. It used to drive people crazy.

She kept repeating, You’re not going to believe this. You’re not going to believe this.

She’d discovered something and, in my enthusiasm, to find out what it was I jumped up, lost my balance and went tumbling right over the edge of the ridge and down toward the lodge.

I rolled and rolled and rolled and thought I heard someone screaming my name. I came to a sudden stop on my back and when I opened my eyes, I had to blink twice. I must have hit my head hard because I had to be hallucinating. I could have sworn I was looking up under a kilt and was seeing up close and personal exactly what was worn beneath—nothing. Well, nothing as far as clothes, but WOW was I impressed. I squeezed my eyes closed tight. I definitely had to be hallucinating.

“Second time today you land at my feet, lass, though I dare say the view is better this time.”

I peeked out from under the kilt to stare up at Ian like an idiot. I couldn’t help it. He was dressed in a kilt, no shirt just a strip of plaid crossing his chest that was more than impressive, and what do I say to him? “Is that brogue real?”

He reached down and lifted me to my feet, laughing.

Amy was beside me in an instant, sounding like a chirping bird, repeating over and over, “Ian Macgregor! Ian Macgregor!” No matter how many times I told her I knew his name, she kept repeating it.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked, through the chirping as his fingers brushed leaves and sticks off me.

“I’m all right,” I said at least I thought I was, though I wondered why Ian suddenly seemed to be standing closer to me or was I falling toward him? He scooped me up so fast, my head spun worse, and I had no choice but to rest it on his shoulder.