Jake sighed. For a moment, he’d forgotten his back seat passenger. ‘Nothing.’
Jake followed a line of cars as he headed out the other side of the town, where large imposing houses nestled down quieter, more secluded lanes surrounding the village. Jake noted the stream of traffic behind thinning out along the main road as people turned off to their homes or holiday homes at the edge of town.
Jake was heading for just such a place.
There was a rustle of movement at the back. Jake glanced in his rear-view mirror as Marcus slid by to his left and looked out of the car window. ‘You missed the turn-off!’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘But it’s back there.’ Marcus added sarcastically, ‘I think I can remember.’
Jake stayed silent.
Marcus said, ‘We’re not staying at The Lake House.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘No.’ Jake had been planning to book into a fancy hotel in Aviemore, but with his bandaged hands, and Marcus’s unkemptappearance, he’d had a change of heart. Instead, he remembered a little wooden single-storey lodge. It had a bar that served food. Apparently, there were rooms for rent there too, although the place was not well advertised. It was located so far off the beaten track that the three of them had joked that it would be the perfect place to hide out from the law if they were in trouble. He hoped the place was still there; he didn’t want to stay in town, and he didn’t want to stay for long.
Jake took a left turn at the town limits. If he remembered rightly, it was at the end of a dirt track. Not many people besides the townsfolk themselves, and a few people from neighbouring communities, knew of its existence. Jake often wondered why the owners had never erected a billboard on the road advertising the place to drum up more business. But driving through town, Jake thought he could guess why: the remote location was idyllic, and they’d probably find themselves overrun with tourists. From what he remembered, it was one of the few establishments that remained exclusively for the locals, and they wanted to keep it that way. Jake was anticipating a frosty reception when he arrived.
He remembered the first time the three of them had stumbled onto the place, years earlier. They had been teenagers looking for a pub that was so out of the way that they could pretty much guarantee they would not run into the senior Rosses, who they were sure had believed – bless their trusting hearts – that they were atthe pond, the frozen-over lake, ice-skating.
Their surprise had therefore been immense when they’d stepped foot inside the place and had seen Aubrey Jones – the same Aubrey Jones who always declined their invitation to spend Christmas with them in the Cairngorms – sitting just across the room, surrounded by half a dozen townsfolk. Jake remembered that the three of them had frozen just inside the door. They couldn’t think of anyone worse they could havebumped into, save Eleanor and Marcus’s parents themselves. Aubrey was William’s right-hand man. He sorted things out. And he would sort them out good and proper if he caught them attempting to buy alcohol.
Looking back, Jake didn’t know how they’d done it, but they’d retreated backwards out of the bar, three sets of eyes staring fixedly at Aubrey. All he’d needed to do was look up; he couldn’t have missed three teenagers in brightly coloured ski wear backing out of the door. But he hadn’t looked up, and to their relief he hadn’t caught them. That was the first and last time Jake had visited the place. He remembered the question on all their lips – what had Aubrey been doing there? Of course, that incident had long been forgotten – until now.
The question on Jake’s mind now was: had the place survived? Was it still there?
Jake drove slowly along the rutted track through the forest of tall pines, which were densely packed on either side.
Half a mile down the track, Jake reduced his speed. He must be getting near. The car crawled into a large clearing. He let it slow to a halt.
Nothing.
‘Good.’ Marcus sounded smug. ‘I’ve had enough bad experiences for one day, without staying at the Norman Bates Motel.’
Jake looked over his shoulder as Marcus lay down on the back seat, resting his head in the crook of his arm. So, Marcus remembered the place too. He was right: their overriding memory of the place was how creepy it had been, right in the middle of nowhere.
‘What is wrong with you, anyway?’ said Jake, glancing over his shoulder. He’d had plenty of sleep. Why wasn’t he bucking up?
Marcus shut his eyes.
Was the current physical state of Marcus just down to the shock of spending all those hours deprived of his liberty, or was it because he had been deprived of something else? Jake was beginning to wonder whether Marcus’s casual drug-use had extended beyond the weekend into something a lot less casual and a lot more serious.
Jake looked back at the clearing. He opened the car door, swung it wide and got out. He needed to stretch his legs. He walked over to where the lodge had once stood. He scuffed the earth with his foot and hit something. Another scuff with his shoe unearthed a piece of wood. Jake squatted and picked up the wood, turning it over to reveal green, peeling paint. At least that confirmed he was in the right place. He tossed it away and stood up.
‘Now what?’ Hands on his hips, Jake closed his eyes and breathed in the pine-scented forest air.
Chapter 24
‘Are you lost?’
Startled, Jake turned in the direction of the stranger’s voice. He couldn’t see anyone through the dense pine trees bordering the clearing. He looked back at the car. He felt exposed.
‘I said are you lost? Do you need directions?’ A smart-suited, clean-shaven young man wearing a bright yellow hard hat and carrying a clipboard emerged from the forest. His paperwork flapped in the breeze.
Jake relaxed. ‘Er, no.’
The young man walked briskly towards Jake. He held out his hand as if he was in a business meeting. ‘I’m Mr Addison, and I’m afraid you are on private land.’
