What Lies Between (24 page)

Shaking off my thoughts, I stretched out my arms, fingers, turned my head—my body seemed to be working. Surprising, given that the airbag didn’t deploy. Releasing my seatbelt, I hunted around for my phone but couldn’t find it. Even after turning the key in the ignition, the window wouldn’t roll down. I pushed on the door. It wouldn’t open. I reached over and pulled the handle of the passenger door. It didn’t budge. Nothing in the car worked.

Attempting to climb into the back seat, my legs crumpled as a searing pain shot through my knee. Whatever had happened, my knee was the least of my problems. Snow had piled up on the car, which wouldn’t start, and the cold had already numbed my face. Gritting my teeth, I clambered through the space between the front seats and pushed on the door behind the driver’s seat. Three hard shoves later, it cracked open enough for me to squeeze through. I picked my way through the snowy brush to the road, looking both ways. No lights were visible. I was alone.

Desperate for water, I tried to catch the large flakes of snow on my tongue. After only a few yards of lumbering heavy through the snow, I had an overwhelming desire to lie down on the side of the road. The fact I considered actually doing it woke me up and made me realize my head might not be working properly. But it was working well enough to tell me that if I was beyond the curve in the road, a red telephone booth lay not too far ahead. Sometimes old-school was the only way to survive up here.

My head throbbed but my toes had no feeling inside my double layer of socks and insulated boots. I was frozen but had to keep moving. The house was at least two miles beyond the curve in the loch.

From the direction of the pub, headlights cut through the driving snow, rounding the curve behind me. My instincts drove me to take cover behind the trees. The car stopped at the crash site, its lights shining on the Beast. Someone got out and peered into the wrecked vehicle. Was the person coming back to finish the job?

I could hear the person yelling, but the wind was too strong and I was too far away to make out any words. The person looked too big to be Bethanne, even bundled in a coat, and the tightness in my chest eased. Yet I didn’t know for sure if she had been the driver. I could be terribly wrong, and that was a mistake I couldn’t afford. At the same time, I needed help.

Picking my way through the brush, I stayed close to the trees. The voice was calling my name. I crouched down behind a skinny tree skirted by a thatch of snow-laden bracken.

“Ellie, can you hear me? Where are you?”

The voice wasn’t threatening. It sounded how I felt: uncertain, fearful. The person called out again and a surge of relief swept through me. The concerned voice and the fear belonged to Ben MacIver. I stepped out from my hiding spot.

“I’m over here,” I called out in a raspy voice, my throat sore and completely parched.

He slipped and thrashed through the drifts and brush, a flashlight bobbing in his hand. “Are you okay?” He shined the light over me.

“Yes, I think so.”

He pulled me tight against him. “When I saw your car and you weren’t in it . . .” He pulled me tighter before setting me back at arm’s length. “You’re shaking. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you into my truck and to the house straight away and then I want you to tell me what happened.”

My knee had begun to throb, and I stumbled over the snow-covered fronds. Ben scooped me up in his arms and negotiated each step of his way back to the truck to keep from losing his footing in the snow. I winced as he opened the passenger door.

“Sorry, I need to get you in the truck.”

A sharp pain shot down my leg as I collapsed on the seat. My fingers ached and I pulled off my gloves, exposing ghostly hands to the heater’s vents.

“I’m lucky you came along. Were you on your way home, then?” I asked, my voice still crackling from the dryness.

“I stopped at the pub on my way back from Invergarry. Maggie was talking to Richie, who was the last of the renovation crew to leave Glenbroch tonight. Richie said his wife had to come to pick him up because a tree was blocking your lane. He’d had to leave his car on the Glenbroch side. Maggie knew then you couldn’t have got to your house. I said I’d find you and make sure you were all right. We need to see about getting you to a doctor, and I need to call her.”

“I’m fine. Feeling better already. I think I hurt my knee is all, and I’m dying for some water.”

“We’ll get you sorted, don’t worry.”

The strain visible in his face told me he was doing enough worrying for both of us.

Ben turned at the MacIvers’ lane. I wanted to protest, but there was no better place to go given I didn’t want to be by myself.

“Thanks for coming to look for me.” I stared out the window at the snowy road, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to feel too thankful.

“There was no way I would sit in a pub not knowing where you were or if you were okay. What happened out there?” He hesitated before continuing. “I don’t want my words to come out wrong, like I’m saying you’re a bad driver, but that Land Rover should be pretty stable in this weather.”

“A car came up behind me and hit my bumper, more than once. It kept coming, like the driver was frustrated or crazy and wanted me off the road. I was terrified of going into the loch and lost control. Ended up in the trees.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, then knitted together. “I’ll find who did this and kill him.” The tone in his voice frightened me.

“I don’t think it was a him.”

“Do you know who it was, then? Did you see the driver?”

“It was Bethanne—well, I didn’t see her face, but a person with a long coat on like hers was standing outside the pub smoking and watching me. When I pulled out, the person walked away and not into the pub. To her car, I assume.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “I can’t believe that she would go that far. She has a mean streak but you could have been killed.” He shook his head at the terrible thought. “She doesn’t like you being here, I do realize that. But what happened tonight, that’s so . . . radge. Are you sure it was her?”

“No, I’m not sure. She hates me, though. And I don’t understand it. The only thing I can think is that it has to do with you. She has a thing for you.”

“That’s true enough, I suppose, but I don’t encourage it.” He fixed his gaze on the road ahead and sighed, “She can be dodgy at times, but a move like this is hard for me to imagine.”

I turned toward the window, exhausted. Everything in the glow of the headlights was white. Everything else was the darkest dark I’d ever seen.

It was comforting to get inside the door of Ben’s cottage. He gathered towels from a closet and led me up the stairs to a bedroom at one end of the hall. The numbness from the cold had worn off and each bend of my knee told me I’d be sore for a while.

“Would you let me take a look at your knee?” Ben asked.

“No, for the hundredth time, I’m fine. The Beast did its job.”

“Good thing,” he said, the tension starting to leave his voice. “I’ll get you some paracetamol and water. Shampoo, conditioner, and hair dryers are in the loo right here off the hall. I have my own off my bedroom. You have this end to yourself.” I sensed he was trying to search my thoughts with his piercing look. “I’m not the devil, Ellie. I’m no danger to you. I want you to be safe tonight.”

His face was serious, concerned. He might intend to protect me from harm out of an old-fashioned sense of honor, but he was the furthest thing from safe. My eyes closed as an unbidden desire gripped me. Desperate to sink into someone, into a safe place, I reminded myself to stay strong, but I was bitterly tired of fighting to protect myself.

I cleared my throat, tried to maintain my composure. “Thanks.” I reached out and took the towels. “This is kind of you.”

“It isn’t much to provide a spare room for a night. I wish . . .” His chest heaved a burdened sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. “I saw your Land Rover smashed against those trees, and already covered in snow . . .”

Pain creased his face and his jaw tightened. He had lost Jessie in a car accident. Of course he would be upset at the sight of a crash. I had never seen any photos of my parents’ accident. I didn’t need real images to add to the nightmares I sometimes still had about the evening they were killed.

Ben turned away. “I’ll rustle up some food while you get settled.”

“Okay.” My voice was barely audible as my thoughts churned. What did he wish? The man needed to learn to finish his sentences.

The pungent scent of sage and browned butter, the popping and sizzling of cooking food, and the general clanging and clattering coming from the cottage’s kitchen drew me from my room. I hadn’t thought I was hungry but I hadn’t eaten much at the pub and the smell of food was comforting.

I hobbled down the stairs, the throbbing in my knee serving as a reminder of my close call on the loch road. Snow had piled several inches higher against the window of the sitting room since we had arrived at the cottage. The storm had become a genuine blizzard, and another shot of thankfulness warmed me. I was safe and dry and hadn’t been seriously hurt. I’d be fine.

Turning my eyes away from the storm, I focused on the steaming fish soup and brown butter and sage ravioli Ben placed in front of me. An odd combination but it was perfect for a night like this.

After devouring my food in silence, which Ben must have sensed I needed, I came up for air. “You’re a good cook,” I said, breaking off another piece of warm, crusty bread.

“A mate of mine fishes cod in the winter months, and he cold smokes haddock as well. The haddock is what you have there in your
cullen skink
, your soup. He delivers out here if you’re interested.”

“I’ve thought about getting the fish van out to Glenbroch on a regular schedule, but of course it’s only me right now.”

“Wouldn’t matter. He delivers any size of order. I’ll get his number for you later.”

The outside house lights shone on the bare tree branches as the wind whipped them back and forth. The cozy cottage, hugging me in its protection, made the storm seem far away. Sleepy from my full belly and the warm fire, I relaxed more than might be wise. I had no doubt Ben would keep me safe, at least from whoever was on the road.

“Ultimate comfort food. I eat pretty decently when you’re supplying the food, I must say.” I glanced up to meet his eyes. It looked like he blushed at the compliment, but it was hard to tell. His face was tinged red, likely from the wind. Mine probably was too.

“Glad you like it.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m pretty much impressed with anyone’s cooking since it’s a struggle for me.”

“I see. Your standards are low making your compliment meaningless?”

“That’s about it, yes.” I tried to keep a serious expression but a spontaneous, giddy laugh erupted from my gut. I was here—safe, warm, comfortable—and not trapped in a car in the loch. Everything was all right. “I’m alive.”

“Aye, you are.” I couldn’t decipher the faraway gaze of his eyes.

“What just passed through your mind?”

“The thought of what you said not being true . . .” Ben smiled weakly and stood up from the table, gathering my empty plate and bowl.

“Let me do the dishes,” I said, not wanting to think about it either. Fatigue was settling in, but I wanted to do my part and not be a burden.

His blue eyes mirrored the storm outside. “I’ll take care of them. It helps me think.” His expression was soft but his eyes told me his thoughts were a million miles away. “You go and sit by the fire and get warm.”

Instead, I busied myself shuffling around the living room, checking out the books and games stacked in the bookshelves. I pulled one out based on its title—Othello.

“Have you played that game?” Ben asked, drying a plate as he stood in the doorway.

“No, but it looks interesting.”

“I used to get into epic battles with my brother, Logan; he’s one of the worst of the sore losers. Then he dived into video games and worked out he could run me into the ground with those. He’s an annoying winner too.”

“What about Andrew?”

“Drew is identical to Logan in looks—well, used to be. They’ve changed their appearance now and don’t look all that much alike. Couldn’t be more different in their interests and personality. Andrew is the quiet one, serious, focused. Logan is an adrenaline junkie. Loves rock climbing, ice climbing—you name it—and women. They are scarcely able to resist him.”

“Where do you fit in with them?”

“They headed to the cities, and I came back here. Just a Highland laddie after all that university education—wasted on me, I suppose. I’m the oldest and am supposed to be the responsible one, the caretaker of the future. My brothers live more of a posh life—Drew is in Glasgow and Logan is in Aberdeen. If you were with Logan, you would have dined at a five-star restaurant, instead of an old beat-up table that my mother gave me. And he would have treated you to much more refined cuisine than cullen skink.”

I wondered if he understood how lucky he was to have a forever home and two parents and brothers. To have a mother to pass down old furniture to him. I would trade my childhood for his, even with John as a father, without a thought.

“Do you wish you’d had a different life?”

“No. I’m not cut out for city life. I tried it. Besides, there are heavy expectations on me. Even though my father’s business interests and property will be mine someday, he’s not too keen on handing over any amount of control.”

“Won’t all three of you inherit a stake in it?”

“No, it doesn’t work that way. The firstborn son inherits and carries on. Hopefully he has a son who will do the same.”

“That’s a bit old-fashioned and unfair as well.”

“I can understand how it seems that way to an American,” he said. “But here property is intended to be in families for generations, and it’s important to maintain the family’s line and name and all that’s been built over decades or centuries. Otherwise, it gets split up at the death of each generation until nothing is left. There would be no Glenbroch, for example.”