Dylan was hopeful. He had given Isabel the name of the company that supplied drivers throughout Scotland and knew they had offices in Edinburgh. If she was being sensible, she had contacted one of them and was now with a responsible driver. Three phone calls later, however, his hopes were dashed when he found out she hadn’t hired a driver. She had rented a car—a car without GPS—and had taken off for parts unknown. At that news, Dylan started praying for the people of Scotland, too.
Michael’s outlook was even more pessimistic. He thought Isabel might have driven into the North Sea. Driving up into the Highlands all alone was just plain crazy. He pictured her trying to navigate those narrow roads in Scotland and shuddered. That wasn’t his only worry. There were also the overzealous fans who all wanted a piece of her. If she was recognized—and there had been so much Internet exposure after her performance with XO, he was sure she would be—she’d be run over.
The Buchanan kitchen quickly turned into an operations room, each of the men making calls to anyone who could help locate Isabel. Nick and Noah even had the FBI’s contacts in Scotland and England searching for her. With all of their resources, they were confident she would be found quickly.
When they had done all they could to reach her, they faced the biggest worry of all. Who was after her? And why? The bloody device was in her pocket, and she obviously hadn’t known it was there. The only conclusion that made any sense was that Walsh had somehow put it there. A close examination of the video confirmed it. Nick had saved it on his phone and played it for the others. Rewinding and slowing the action proved their suspicion. Walsh was clearly reaching for her pocket with something in his hand.
So, who was Walsh really? And what did all of this have to do with the man Isabel shot? The detective lying in the hospital had the answers, and the Buchanans were determined to get him to talk.
Michael couldn’t wait around for the answers to any of these questions. Isabel was in danger, and he had to get to her. He gathered his gear and took off for the airport. He didn’t have any doubt at all that Noah would get him a seat on a flight. As he was striding into the airport, he received a text giving him the name of the airline, the flight number, and his seat assignment, 2A. Michael was also certain that by the time he arrived in Edinburgh, Nick and Noah would have found Isabel and gotten protection for her.
In the meantime, Nick had gone to his office and gathered a team of agents to aid in the search. He then called Detective Samuel and read him what was on the flash drive, followed by an emailed copy. Samuel was outraged on Isabel’s behalf, but he was also furious with Nick because he hadn’t checked the flash drive the minute he saw it. Nick didn’t defend himself. Samuel was right. He should have checked it no matter how bloody it was. Isabel thought the flash drive was filled with songs she had written, so he had assumed the same. Why wouldn’t he believe her? He wasn’t investigating her, for God’s sake. Still, no amount of justification made his guilt lessen.
On Nathan’s Bay the atmosphere was tense as Dylan waited to get word that Isabel was safe. He had stayed on the island so that he could explain it all to Kate and be there when her sister finally decided to call.
•••
Isabel had no idea of the turmoil she was causing.
It had been a long twenty-four hours, and she was worn out. She had slept only an hour at the most on the plane. Then she went through quite an ordeal at the airport when she was recognized by a tour group of teenagers on their way to a football match. Why they needed to shriek was beyond her. It only drew more attention, as other travelers joined the spontaneous fan club. She signed autographs and hurried out of there as quickly as possible.
By the time she was seated in the car she had rented under Dylan Buchanan’s name—the company had his credit card on file—her nerves were frayed. Fortunately, an hour outside of Edinburgh she found a charming hotel with available rooms. After she checked in and—due to an unfortunate little mishap—asked where the nearest auto body shop was located, she went up to her room and got ready for bed. It wasn’t until she was plugging her phone charger in that she realized she hadn’t turned her phone on. As soon as she did, she was shocked to see that there were at least twenty calls and just as many texts. There was even a call from Detective Samuel. She assumed he wanted to thank her for the concert tickets and put him last on her callback list. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she decided she’d read the texts and answer everyone tomorrow. She did take the time to text Kate and Dylan and tell them where she was staying tonight. Then she turned off her phone again and got into bed.
Could a person be too exhausted to sleep? Isabel’s mind wouldn’t quiet down, and she tossed and turned for a long while. When she did fall asleep, it was only for an hour or two. She finally crashed just as the sun was coming up, and she slept like the dead until noon. A hot shower revived her, and by the time she was dressed, she was ready for what was left of the day.
First on her agenda was to plan her route to Dunross and Glen MacKenna. She had picked up a travel guide at the airport and opened it to a map that highlighted all of Scotland’s points of interest. She was looking forward to taking side trips to some of these places. Since she wasn’t on a schedule, she could take her time exploring. At some point in her travels, she would call the solicitor for Glen MacKenna and let him know when she’d arrive. Until then, she was free to wander.
She called room service and ordered breakfast, then took a pen and pad from the bedside table and began to make a list of the sights she wanted to see. Just as she was reading about the history of Stirling Castle, she was interrupted by a knock on her door. Impressed that room service was so efficient, she put down her pen and went to answer.
Her mouth dropped open when she looked through the peephole. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing and looked again. He hadn’t vanished, and he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Michael Buchanan was standing there.
Speechless, she unlocked the dead bolt, removed the chain, and opened the door. She was so dumbfounded she could only stare up at him. When she finally found her voice, she didn’t mince words. “There’s just no getting away from you, is there?”