‘You didn’t have to do that, Gayle.’
‘I tend to eat my evening meal later anyway,’ Gayle replied.
Jake eyed the food tray and hesitated.
‘Ah – you were expecting home-cooking,’ said Gayle, tipping the foil tray and dishing it out onto a dinner plate. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint, but cooking is not quite my forté, although on occasion I do cook a roast, and my cooked breakfasts are very nice indeed, if I do say so my—’
‘Gayle,’ Jake interrupted, looking past her out of the kitchenwindow. The eerie stillness of dusk was quickly descending on the garden. Jake had lost track of time. It was later than he’d thought. It would be dark soon, and there was still no sign of Marcus.
‘Did Marcus mention where he was going?’
Gayle shook her head. ‘Not a word. I was here in the kitchen when I glanced out of the window and saw him walking down the driveway. I didn’t hear the front door go. When I went out to have a look, the front door was wide open.’
Jake sighed. ‘Sorry about that.’
Gayle picked up the knife and fork beside her plate. ‘He seems preoccupied.’
Jake knew exactly what Marcus was preoccupied with. He could feel the bulge in his pocket where he’d stuffed the plastic bag containing the methadone. He’d also seen the state of their room when he’d nipped upstairs. Both his bag and Marcus’s suitcase had been emptied completely; their contents had been strewn around the room in a frenzied search for the methadone that Jake had in his possession. Marcus, by that time, would have been frantic, desperate to find Jake, desperate to get something into his system.
Jake turned on his heel and headed for the front door, then did a quick about-turn. He poked his head around the kitchen door. ‘Gayle.’
She looked up.
‘Thanks for the offer.’ He pointed at the hotpot. ‘Sorry, but I’m not stopping to eat dinner. I’m going to look for Marcus.’
‘Maybe next time,’ Gayle said with her mouth full, ‘I’ll cook something myself.’ She pointed at the food on her plate. ‘Tastes good, though.’
Jake didn’t have time to hang around and tell her she’d got it wrong; that his reason for declining the offer had nothing whatsoever to do with the food. He really did need to findMarcus.
Jake shut the front door behind him and headed for his car. He patted his pockets for his car keys and felt the phials. He walked faster.
He sped down the driveway, flicking on his headlights. Suddenly, he slowed. It occurred to him that it might not be wise to speed down the driveway if Marcus was walking back at that very moment.
He reached the end of the driveway. There was still no sign of him.
‘Now where?’ Jake pondered as he sat in the receding light at the end of the driveway. There was only one place he could go, and that was into town. Aviemore was the only place that had a chemist, and in Marcus’s irrational state of mind, he was probably thinking he could just waltz in there and pick something up over the counter.
Jake drove down the street.
After a short distance, he stopped the car. What if he was way off beam and Marcus had in fact gone out for something else? Jake had an idea what that might be. He backed up the car and stopped a little way up the street from Lark Lodge. He remembered the lane between the houses that led to a gate – a hidden entrance that he doubted people knew about. The lane was overgrown, the gate probably rusted with age. Would the gate be locked? Jake had no clue whether he’d need a key to get into the grounds of The Lake House. He presumed so. Jake didn’t have one. Nobody had used that cut-through for years. He decided not to bother walking up the lane to find out if the gate was open.
Jake put the car into gear and drove down the street, taking an immediate right turn. A very short distance along the main road was a familiar turn-off which led to one single property set back from the road that fronted a loch – The Lake House. Theextensive walled garden backed on to Gayle’s property.
Jake turned into the lane, driving several hundred yards before he slowed the car to a stop at the entrance to a driveway. He sat listening to the hum of the engine. A streetlamp cast a hazy yellow glow a short distance up the drive. Beyond that, all Jake could make out were grey shapes in the gloom. It was getting dark fast. Jake pumped the gas and steered the car into the driveway. He took it slowly. He followed the drive around the back of the house, barely giving it a second glance as he passed by. If Marcus was there, he knew exactly where to find him.
Jake brought the car to a stop. He left the headlights on and got out; the two beams of light illuminated the empty shingle parking area at the back of the house and the old stone steps leading down to the garden beyond. Jake took the steps two at a time, entering the gardens.
He cut diagonally across the lawn, heading for the six-foot hedging that to anyone not familiar with the house would assume marked the boundary of the grounds. It did not. Jake walked through a narrow gap in the hedge to reveal a smaller, secluded area of garden. He stood there, letting his eyes adjust to the deepening gloom; Jake could make out the grey shapes of bushes and trees and the hedge on the other side – but there was no sign of Marcus.
Jake’s eyes focused on the centre of the garden. He couldn’t see much at all, and within a matter of minutes it would be pitch dark. It didn’t matter, though; he didn’t need to see what was there to know why Marcus might have gone there.
Jake backed out of the garden.
‘I couldn’t go in.’
Jake whirled around in fright and kicked something with his shoe.
‘Ow. Jake!’
