THIRTY-SIX
While Isabel was being terrorized by Freya, Michael was going out of his mind worrying about her. He rushed into the Rosemore Police Station looking for Inspector Sinclair just as the first call came in from a frantic driver.
Danny, the fast talker, answered the phone and—as was his habit—put it on speaker.
“This here is Sheldon Piers calling. There’s a young lady driving an older lady, and the older lady appears to be very upset. She’s screaming something awful. The driver is weaving and swaying in and out of traffic, and she’s going to kill someone if she isn’t stopped. She shot out of the roundabout and nearly crashed into me. You’d best get her off the road.”
The call was disconnected before Danny could ask which roundabout. There were quite a few in the Highlands.
Quick as a blink, another call came in. The woman didn’t identify herself, but it was clear from her shaky voice that she was distressed. “A driver in a blue car just clipped the bumper on my brand-new Range Rover, and she didn’t stop to see if she’d done any damage. There was another lady with the driver, and she was yelling. The driver kept drifting into the other lane. She was hitting her, too.”
“The driver was hitting the other lady?” Danny asked, trying to clarify.
“No, the other lady was hitting the driver. You better do something before they crash. I think the driver might be inebriated.”
From the description the caller gave, Michael suspected Isabel was the erratic driver. He felt a wave of relief because she was alive and, if she was driving, hadn’t been hurt, but the feeling didn’t last long. From past experience riding with her, he knew it was very possible she could accidentally kill herself by driving into a tree.
He needed to find her.
He had called her cell phone several times, but after several rings, it went to voicemail. He knew she had turned the phone on and assumed the ringer was off. He left a message in case she picked up.
“Where did this happen?” Danny asked the caller.
“On High Glen Way.”
There was a map of the area pinned to the wall. Michael studied it for a minute and became more frustrated. High Glen Way curved around Dunross and intersected with a major road that intersected with A9, the longest road in Scotland. There were too many exits, and Isabel could have taken any one of them.
They needed more information if they were going to find her.
Sinclair grabbed his car keys and headed to the door. “We’ll head over to High Glen Way. My car is equipped with a police radio, and hopefully Danny will call us with more information on Isabel’s whereabouts.”
Michael was right behind him.
Just then another call came in. Michael stopped in the doorway to listen while Sinclair ran ahead to get his car.
“This is Merlin Hopkins, and I just saw the damnedest thing. I had been fishing down at Lucky Nevin’s stream,” he explained. “I wasn’t catching anything so I packed my gear and headed home. I had climbed up that steep hill, and when I was halfway up, I had to stop to catch my breath, and that’s when I heard screaming. I looked up just as a woman came careening down the side of the hill. She was too far away from me to catch her—and going way too fast. She was rolling and screaming, and I think she might have bounced on into the water. I’m going to try to find her and fish her out, but I would appreciate some help.”
“Yes, we’ll send help,” Danny promised. “Is there a road near you?”
“Backer’s Road,” he answered. “The police should drive up that road to get close to the stream.”
“Is Backer’s Road off of High Glen Highway?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” Danny answered.
As he rushed out the door, Michael shouted over his shoulder, “Call and give us directions.”
•••
When Sinclair pulled up to the door, Michael got in and told him what he had heard the last caller say. “We have to get to Backer’s Road,” he ordered.
Sinclair must have been in quite a few car chases because he drove like a pro. Still, Michael wanted to shove him out of the way and take over.
Within seconds Danny called and gave exact directions to Backer’s Road. He added, “We have the license plate. The car belongs to Freya Harcus.”
Neither Michael nor Sinclair was surprised. But how had Freya gotten hold of Isabel? Michael knew she wouldn’t have willingly gone with Freya. Michael realized he was gripping his cell phone and once again called Isabel. She answered this time.
“Isabel, are you all right?”