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“Nothing that made much sense,” the woman said before dropping her voice slightly. “They concluded that it was a hunting accident… poaching accident is what was said, I think.”

“Poaching?”

“They suspect someone was out hunting deer, using dogs – some still do practice it I suppose – and the dogs got ahead, sensed the boy’s movements and just saw red, as if some instinct kicked in. I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t?” Steph frowned.

“No… usually hunting dogs are very well-trained. Unless it was some gypsy who didn’t know his elbow from his arse, hunting dogs are usually well-trained and wouldn’t go after a boy. I’m sure one could train their dogs to hunt someone, but who would be loitering in the woods with his dogs on the off-chance there is a young boy to hunt? That wouldn’t make sense either.”

Steph had little knowledge of how a hunting dog was trained or what sort of people even kept hunting dogs these days. However, she supposed the woman was right; it was unlikely that a dog was the culprit.

“Of course,” the woman continued, causing Steph to look up, “it all happened not too far from the fence.”

“The fence?”

“It’s what we call it. A large stretch of fence marks the landowned by some billionaire. It’s electric too! As if even the thought of people crossing his land is too much to bear thinking about, even though he has miles and miles of it!”

“A billionaire owns that tract of land? But I thought it would belong to the people; a national park or something similar?” Steph asked, swirling her drink. She already knew some of this, but it was good to get the local perspective.

“Bought it from the government somehow. Must have given some politician some amount of money to make it worth their while. It was never a national park, but it was as good as. Now you can’t cross it. Like a bloody military base!”

“Who owns it?” Steph asked. This she had little idea of.

The woman turned towards the two old men by the fire.

“Jock!”

“What can I do for you?” one of the men asked, turning to reveal a thinning head of hair and a warm smile.

“Who is it that people think owns the fenced-in land?” the woman asked.

“Ah, people think it’s that business chap who owns all those technology companies,” Jock replied, looking to his friend who nodded. “The one who had that allegation made against him and then went off the radar. That’s what they say, anyway.”

“Do people not know for sure?” Steph asked, turning to Jock.

Jock shook his head. “Nobody has seen him, dear, apart from one man and his dog which is probably where the rumour came from that it’s the technology man.”

Technology man? Steph mulled this over in her head.

“How long ago was this allegation against the guy they think it is?” Steph asked.

Jock turned to consult his friend in a lowered voice before turning back.

“Must be around the turn of the millennium. Just before or just after; I can’t remember which. Something to do with ayoung girl and some cocaine or something along those lines. You know what these rich types are like. Didn’t like the media attention so went missing. Now it’s possible he is hiding out here where nobody gives a shit about his Hollywood antics.”

Steph thanked Jock and finished her gin. She thought about having another but decided instead to have an evening stroll before going back to bed for an early night. She was still tired.

It was dark as Steph explored the streets and studied the looming hills that surrounded the village. They were nothing more than large shadows in the night.

It was funny the perception most people had as to what went on in Hollywood. Or, even more amusing, the assumption that any American with money must have something to do with Hollywood and not Silicon Valley.

Steph suspected she knew the man they were talking about, although the likelihood of him owning a lot of land in the middle of Scotland that he had fenced off from the public seemed somewhat improbable. If it was who she was thinking about, then he had been in the public eye and described as a bit of a dot-com playboy from what she had read somewhere. She was young when he’d been at his most famous so she had no recollection of events that may or may not have been reported by the British media.

Kelvin Handle had been a major name and face in the past as he capitalised on the world’s move towards a digital revolution. He had been as big a name as Elon Musk was today. He seemed to show his face everywhere and lived life – or so gossip journalists would have had people believe – like a rockstar nerd. Then it all went wrong. He appeared to be in the middle of an accusation with a seventeen-year-old girl and a spiked drink. There was a court case. The jury found in favour of Kelvin. Although he’d been seen with the girl and it was his house party, enough video evidence proved he’d not been in the same roomwhen the drink had been poured or even drunk. People didn’t care about the verdict. Mud stuck. Then he just disappeared from the public eye.

Steph vaguely remembered watching a trashy television show late one night calledWhere are they now?which was as vacuous as it was addictive to watch. Kelvin featured in a segment that went over the case and then went on about how he had disappeared off the face of the earth – journalists couldn’t find him, and his companies were either tight-lipped or as in the dark as everyone else. The only evidence for his continued existence was the acquisition of a mixture of other companies from genetics to pharmaceuticals.

Nobody was really interested in him anymore though. There had been too many new cases of celebrities getting in trouble that were more relevant than some guy from over two decades ago. Even so, Steph could understand his wanting to stay out of the way of journalists, but buying up land in Scotland from the government and fencing it off? That seemed unlikely.