Page 38 of The Final Vow


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But he’d come to realise that Northumberland was Cumbria’s perfect cousin. It had proper cities. It had beautiful coastlines. Their sand was golden, unlike the shards of razor-thin rock found on most Cumbrian beaches. Its castles were spectacular; Carlisle Castle looked like a condemned borstal. Northumberland wasn’tbetterthan Cumbria, but it was different.

And, at the end of the day, itwasthe north. The people were the same. Friendly, congenial, funny. Quick to anger, even quicker to laugh.

He’d soon come to appreciate Highwood. Yes, the estate had been planned. Centuries ago, aesthetics had dictated where the giant oaks were to be planted. Woods had been cleared to give uninterrupted views of the rolling hills, even parts of Hadrian’s Wall. But whoever had designed the estate had earned their fee. It was special. Poe had explored the grounds for hours and hours and still didn’t think he’d seen it all.

‘A groat for your thoughts?’ Doyle asked.

‘I was just thinking how the estate’s herd of red deer don’t venture too close to the house these days,’ Poe replied. He hadn’t been. He’d been thinking about the case. And how until the sniper was caught, he’d nevernotbe thinking about it. It was the way his mind worked. It had two gears – flat out and idling. Nothing in between. Nothing healthy. It was probably why he still had PTSD. ‘Do you think it’s because of Edgar?’

‘Oh, Iknowit’s because of Edgar,’ Doyle said. ‘The gardener told me.’

‘We can try to keep him inside.’

‘No, the gardener loves him. And the deer were becoming pests. He couldn’t plant anything new without them getting at it. Now Edgar the scarecrow is prowling the grounds, they’re staying where we want them.’

They reached the top of a slope and looked back on the house. They were high enough to see the roof of the marquee. Edgar, sensing they’d stopped, ran back to them. Then he got bored and sprinted off again.

‘We haven’t discussed whether you want me to take your name, Poe,’ Doyle said.

She said it casually, but Poe could tell it was a question with bite. One she’d been wanting to ask for a long time. She wanted a thoughtful, not flippant, answer.

‘I don’t think what I want should be a consideration, Estelle,’ he said. ‘It’s your name and it’s a good one. It’s synonymous with Highwood, with Northumberland. And even if it wasn’t, you’re Professor Estelle Doyle, world-renowned forensic pathologist. You’re alsoLadyEstelle Doyle, a member of the British aristocracy. The Poes have been scratching around in the dirt for centuries.’ He paused. ‘So, no, I don’t think youshouldtake my name.’ He paused again. ‘Anyway, Professor Poe sounds a little too much like ProfessorPooto me.’

She laughed. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot,’ she said. ‘There’s been a Doyle at Highwood since the year dot, but—’

Poe’s phone rang. It was Mathers. He tilted the screen so Doyle could see.

‘Answer it,’ she said.

‘You sure? Seems like we’re having a moment.’

‘This can wait, Poe.’

‘Ma’am,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

‘How quickly can you get to the Cairngorms, Poe?’

Poe covered the mouthpiece like he was holding a rotary phone. ‘The Cairngorms?’ he asked Doyle. ‘How far away is it?’

Doyle seemed to know where all the grouse moors were. Poe assumed it was the aristocratic equivalent of a London cabbie’s ‘knowledge’.

‘Four hours,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘Take the Land Rover. The last few miles might get boggy.’

‘Four hours, ma’am,’ Poe said to Mathers. ‘Why?’

‘Your hunch paid off. Police Scotland have found where the bastard’s been zeroing his weapon.’

Chapter 28

A gamekeeper had found the sniper’s zeroing range in the Forest of Atholl. It was in the rural region of Perth and Kinross. Most of the forest was in the Cairngorms National Park, but the range had been found just inside Dalnamein, one of the main beats the gamekeepers kept for deer stalking. The estate was massive, almost 150,000 acres, a mixture of open hill and dense forest. Perfect deer country.

Perfect sniping country.

The kind of place where gunshots would be an everyday sound.

It took Poe four hours to drive to Pitlochry, a small town in Perth and Kinross. It was 20 miles from where the gamekeeper had found the sniper’s range. Close enough to get there quickly, not so close a police presence would set off alarm bells. Poe found the police station and parked behind a mud-spattered Land Rover. He was greeted at the front desk by a prune-faced Scotsman. Big arms, an even bigger waist. He looked like Ma out ofThe Goonies.

‘You the guy from London? The city slicker they’ve sent tae tell us carrots what tae do?’