Page 24 of Snowy Surprises in the Highlands (Scottish Highland #5)

‘Women of that age shouldn’t have purple hair, it’s ridiculous, they should be ashamed of themselves,’ one elderly woman had told them as they all listened, with bated breath, to the speaker on Harris’s phone.

Harris huffed out forcefully. ‘With all due respect, madam, do you actually have anything to say that’s pertinent to the case?’ The woman had immediately hung up. ‘No, that’s what I thought, you daft old bat.’

Another call came in. ‘I saw them last week doing karaoke in Torremolinos! Me and the wife go there every year. The weather wasn’t as good this time though so we might try Tenerife next year.’

‘Aye, pal, you do that, and thanks.’ What they clearly seemed to have missed when watching the piece by Kendric is that the two elderly women were home safe the previous week and had only been missing two days.

‘People just don’t listen,’ Bella’s dad had grumbled in frustration.

Another caller suggested, ‘You should try ringing their mobile phones or tracing their car registration.’

Harris’s nostrils had flared, and he had shaken his head. ‘Aye, we’ll do that, thank you,’ he had replied politely when it was clear from the redness of his cheeks that he was having to will himself not to scream down the phone, ‘Don’t you think we’ve tried all those things, you walloper?’

‘I saw them in Tesco in Stoke on Trent yesterday. They were buying cigs and a bottle of merlot.’ Harris had rolled his eyes at this one and had replied , ‘Away an’ boil yer heid!

Why on earth would they be in Stoke on Trent of all places when they’re two eighty-plus-year-olds from Scotland?

And neither of them has ever smoked actually.

’ He had ended the call with a bang of his index finger to the screen and glanced around at Bella and her parents, all watching him with wide eyes.

‘Sorry,’ he said, cringing. ‘They’re doing ma head in. ’

The final one of countless calls that angered Bella – because every second they were blocking the line they were halting the chance of a person with actual leads getting through – was from two very young-sounding kids who were struggling to remain serious throughout their prank.

The main one was putting on a silly and obviously fake deep voice.

‘I’ve got them here in my flat in Aberdeen and I want three million pounds in an unmarked envelope to be left outside in the bin by McNulty’s sweetshop…

’ Whispering could be heard in the background.

‘Or… or a new PlayStation… And… and you’re a smelly fart. ’ This was followed by giggles.

‘You do realise you’re talking to the police, and we can trace your call, don’t you, lads?’ Harris had said through clenched teeth.

There was a pause and the quieter of the two could be heard saying, ‘Hang up, Davey, you bawbag! They’ll come for us, and we’ll get kilt by yer ma!’

The more talkative one said, ‘Shit, Craig, you didnae have to say ma name!’ And then, ‘Whatever, get stuffed, pig!’

The call had ended abruptly, and Harris had thrown his handset onto the sofa.

‘For heaven’s sake, what are their parents teaching them?

’ he asked no one in particular, as he ran his hands back through his hair.

‘I’ve a bloody good mind to actually trace them and go have a few stern words with their parents. ’

It was clear that Harris was getting angrier by the second and Bella was pacing up and down the room, followed by two dogs who wondered why on earth she wasn’t going anywhere else.

‘Come and sit down, love, you’re going to wear a hole in the rug,’ her mum said, holding out her hand.

Bella sat and huffed, feeling more than a little bit deflated. She had been so sure this would work.

Two hours passed and the calls had slowed down but no valuable leads had come through.

Bella was slumped on the sofa with her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.

She didn’t want to give up hope of finding them but the longer this went on the harder it was to stay positive.

She got up and walked over to where her dad stood looking out at the back garden where Beau and Bertie were digging a hole in the flowerbed.

She hadn’t even got the energy to bang on the glass and yell at them to stop.

She leaned her head against her dad’s shoulder, and they watched the sky becoming darker as the sun began its descent.

Harris’s phone rang again. ‘Oh, it’s a video call request,’ he said. ‘I don’t recognise the number.’

Bella and her dad turned sharply and dashed over to him.

‘Answer it!’ Bella’s mum said as she gripped his arm. He did so and the four of them stared at the screen in anticipation.

A face none of them recognised came into view and stared back at them.

‘Hello? Who is this?’ Harris asked with a terse tone.

‘Oh, hi. Harris Donaldson?’ The man was smartly dressed in a white shirt and tartan tie with a navy jacket over the top.

Bella thought immediately it was some journalist from a tabloid wanting to do a dramatic story and her stomach plummeted along with her heart.

‘Yes, that’s me. Now who are you ?’

The man cleared his throat. ‘I have your mother, and her friend.’