Page 3

“I am a field biologist, not some sort of Dr Frankenstein of animals.”

“Right… sorry.”

“No, I go and study unsolved mysteries of the animal kingdom,” Steph continued. “I go out and try to come up with a plausible explanation by studying the natural environment including both the flora and fauna. Sometimes I do not find an exact answer but that doesn’t seem to matter exactly.”

“And who… who pays you for that?”

“The public does, I suppose,” Steph said. “People love a mystery – if you excuse me for stating the obvious – so I give them real-life ones that involve animals. Obviously, I include relevant information to educate the reader…”

“Reader?”

“I write books. I found an agent who was able to sell my particular idea to a publisher who has since discovered my niche to be lucrative enough. Nothing massive, but it pays a lot better than if I went to simply study wolverines or something similar for whatever reason. Actually, there is the potential for a documentary series for me on one of the animal channels which would really get things going.”

“Which one?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

There was silence for a minute. Steph contemplated picking up her notebook again. The man noticed.

“So what’s the mystery you are investigating in Scotland?” he asked.

“The death of a boy,” Steph replied, a little too matter-of-factly for the man’s liking. “He has been attacked by something that shouldn’t have been there or by someone who found a way to make it look like that. Supposedly, it was near a large fenced-off area. I am not sure exactly why the area is fenced off, only that it belongs to a private company working on some sort of environmental project… potentially. I’ll be honest; I haven’t managed to find much about it. Again, this is part of the reason I’m going. Sort of like an animal murder mystery if you like.”

THREE

Steph got off the plane, went through passport control and made straight to collect her luggage. She waited impatiently for the conveyor belt to start. How long could it take to chuck some bags on a truck and throw them on a belt? Steph tried to look intently at a pillar when the old man from the plane meandered over to the luggage reel. She had given him enough of her time on the plane.

It didn’t take long to rent a car and drive out of Glasgow. What did take a while was navigating the roads through the Trossachs towards the village of Calnally where the dead boy had lived.

It was hard to keep her eyes open due to jetlag and, once or twice, Steph had to swerve to stay on the right side of the road, which happened to be the left. Perhaps she should have spent a night in Glasgow to recover a little bit. But time was precious. Besides, she would still be jetlagged in the morning so she might as well endure the pain now, or so she thought.

Calnally was a rather picturesque little place set against the natural beauty of the surrounding wilderness. Well, what counted as wilderness for Britain. Living in the USA had given Steph a broader understanding of what wilderness truly was. Alaska had been a crazy experience. You could easily get lost there and not even your remains would be found – a great selling point for Steph.

Being a village, Calnally didn’t have many places to stay. After the third car had screeched its horn at Steph for swerving onto the wrong side of the road, she realised she needed to find somewhere quickly. She needed to rest.

There were one or two places that made most of their business through ramblers and the type of holiday goer that wanted to escape town life. In the end, Steph chose a hotel attached to oneof the local pubs. She had long since discovered that the best starting point to get information was from locals who liked to chat. Drinking tended to induce conversation. The pub was a no-brainer.

Despite her eagerness to get to Calnally, Steph was in no rush to begin work. After getting her keys and hauling her luggage up two flights of stairs, her head hit the pillow. She slept. It was two in the afternoon.

Having awoken after seven in the evening, Steph forced herself to get up and go downstairs. She knew lying there would be dangerous, as it would become difficult to get to sleep later. The carpet leading down the stairs was patterned and worn slightly in the areas over the lip of each step. Steph supposed there was not much reason for the place to stay at the cutting edge of floor fashion. It likely had little impact on those who chose to stay there.

Although allowing the carpet to age didn’t inspire comfort, the authentic old-fashioned bar area did. There was rich oak panelling halfway up the wall, whilst a deep blue patterned wallpaper covered the rest. A few mounted antlers adorned the wall, along with other game and a couple of old flintlock rifles from years gone by. To one end, high-backed brown leather chairs surrounded the fireplace.

Steph made her way to the bar. The room was occupied by a few small groups, chatting the evening away after early dinners, but there was no queue for drinks.

“What can I get you, dear?” asked a middle-aged woman, her dark grey roots beginning to show under her dyed blonde hair. She smiled good-naturedly.

“A gin and tonic, please,” Steph replied, looking around the room.

“Coming right up.”

Steph hauled herself up onto one of the padded barstools andleant on the surface of the bar.

“So what brings you all the way up here?” the woman asked after having taken Steph’s room number.

“Up here?” Steph asked, pouring the tonic over the lime wedge languishing in the gin below.

“Your accent gives you away.”