Day 11 – Monday morning
Loch Lonach Children’s Shelter
Ginny rolled out of bed on Monday morning and stumbled toward the bathroom. She ate breakfast, then headed for the Homestead Children’s Shelter. Over coffee she explained her errand to Rose MacGregor.
“I need to find that blue envelope, the one Luis said he got the drugs out of. Have you seen anything that fits that description?”
“No, but I’ve nae searched all o’ the lad’s things.”
“Is it all right with you if I look?”
“Of course. I’ll help ye.”
The dormitory was set up as small suites, with four rooms sharing a central bathroom. Luis’ room was a cheerful mix of blues and greens, with pastel whales and fish along the borders and at child’s eye-level. There was no closet. All the children used toy chests and alcoves for their possessions. It took Ginny and Rose fifteen minutes to assure themselves there was no blue envelope in Luis’ room.
“Could he have stashed it in someone else’s room?” Ginny asked.
Rose shrugged. “'Tis possible, but the ither children would hae thrown it away, I think.”
“So it’s hidden somewhere. Let’s check the bathroom.”
“Ye do that and I’ll check the ither three rooms.”
The bathroom had cabinets and shelves and cubbyholes for shampoo and soap. Each child had a drawstring bag made of net, hung from hooks, again at child’s eye-level. They were color-coded to match the towels.
Ginny went through the cabinets first. Nothing at ground level seemed to offer a place to hide an envelope so she worked her way up. The cabinets along the ceiling had padlocks and required keys to open them. Ginny went to find Rose.
“Naething in the ither three rooms. What o’ th’ bathroom?”
“I’d like to look in the locked cabinets.”
“Surely the bairn could nae get into those?”
“No, but he might have stuffed something through the gap.”
Rose obliged with the key and a step stool and watched as Ginny opened each cabinet in turn, making sure to lock them tightly behind her.
“What’s this?” Ginny peered into the darkness of the fourth cabinet, the one that a five-year-old could presumably have reached if he was standing on the counter. “I need a flashlight, a pair of tweezers, and a clean manila envelope, please.”
It took Ginny several tries, but eventually she was able to grasp a torn and badly wrinkled blue envelope and slide it out from between the frame and the side wall of the cabinet. She held it up for Rose to see.
“Looks tae be a blue envelope.”
“And you’re a witness to where it was found.” Ginny held it by the corner, using the tweezers. She turned it this way and that, trying to see if it had a return address on it anywhere.
“This hasn’t been through the mail.”
“Is it the right one, then?”
“It’s addressed to Mrs. Perez.”
“Well, all right, then. Ane blue envelope found.”
Ginny dropped it into the manila envelope, then locked up and handed the keys back. “Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure the authorities get this.” She climbed down, then turned to face Rose MacGregor. “I see no reason to tell Luis about this, do you?”
“Nane at all. He thinks his secret is safe. Let him go on believing so.”
* * *
Monday morning
Brochaber
Ginny had gone straight from the Shelter to the Laird. She now sat in his kitchen with Luis’ blue envelope in its manila prison between them. She had come here as a matter of course, because this was where one came, when one was in trouble.
“Send him away! He’ll listen to you. Send him somewhere safe until this is over.”
The Laird shook his head. “I canna do tha’, lass.”
“You heard what DeSoto said. The DEA is hoping the cartel will attack one or both of us, so they can catch them in the act. He’s your heir. We can’t afford to lose him.”
Again the Laird shook his head. “Do ye think Jim would feel he was a true man if I sent him awa’ and left ye tae face th’ cartel alone?”
Ginny tried to imagine Jim’s face. “No.”
The Laird sighed, his eyes on her. “Yer faither died and there was naught tae be done, tae undo it. How did ye cope?”
Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and held on. “I closed my mind and tried not to see the body on the ground or the tree falling or his ruined face.”
“And in th’ days since?”
She thought for a long moment, then answered. “I look in the mirror and tell myself that being dead is easy. The dead aren’t in pain. They’re not frightened any more. They don’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders.” She sucked in a breath. “Being dead isn’t something to fear. Being left behind is.”
The Laird sighed, his expression softening. “Tis part o’ life, tae be left behind when the generation ahead of ye moves on.”
“I know, but Jim’s my generation. He’s not supposed to die yet.”
The Laird smiled and nodded. “I tak’ yer point, but I still canna send him awa’. Sae let’s examine th’ problem. What are ye afraid o’, Ginny?”
She stood up abruptly and walked over to the sink, then turned back, leaning against it, facing him.
“Other than being murdered? Getting Jim—or someone else—killed because of what I did, or couldn’t do, and having to live with that on my conscience.”
“Because o’ what happened wi’ young Williams.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid of making a mistake and that makes me afraid to make a decision. I never used to doubt myself like this, but I’ve proved how stupid I can be, and I’m terrified of doing it again.”
“Ye trusted a man wha proved untrustworthy. Tha’ can happen tae anyone. Ye must forgive yerself fer being human and go on.”
Ginny screwed up her face. “If it were just me, it wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s not, it’s everyone around me.”
“Aye, I ken. Ye’ve a conscience tha’ works o’ertime. ’Tis what makes ye wha ye are. But ye mustn’t let it cripple ye, lass. Dinna let what that man did rob ye o’ yer proper place in life.”
Ginny knew her proper place—back in the trenches, saving lives at work; ferreting out details for the police; accepting that people die, and living takes guts, and nothing comes with a guarantee.
“Sae what does yer conscience tell ye tae do?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Stiffen my spine and face the danger.”
The Laird nodded.
“But,” Ginny continued, “there’s a problem. Jim doesn’t want me to.”
“He seemed happy enough tae face the risks yesterday.”
“For himself, yes, but he wants to protect me. As long as he’s focused on that, he can’t focus on his own safety. If you won’t send him away, send me.”
The Laird shook his head. “He needs tae face his ain fear and tha’ includes losing you. Forbye, young folk need tae work oot how they’re tae be wi’ one anither and I’ll no interfere wi’ that.”
She met the Laird’s eye. “So, how do I get past this?”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “What are th’ possible outcomes?”
Ginny shrugged. “I live, I die.”
“If yer deid, th’ mess ye leave behind is someone else’s problem, aye?”
The corner of Ginny’s mouth twitched. “True.”
“Sae ’tis only a problem if ye live. If ye live, what are th’ possible outcomes?”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “It all comes out right in the end, or it all goes to hell in a handbag.”
“If’t all comes out richt, ye’ve nothing tae fear. Sae we only ha’e tae worry aboot it all going tae hell.”
“Okay.”
“What are th’ odds?”
“Of it all going to hell? I have no idea.”
“Who are ye fightin’?”
“The drug cartel.”
“Who are ye fightin’ with, yer allies?”
Ginny blinked. “The police, the DEA.”
“And Jim and th’ Hillcrest staff and the Homestead, all o’ which ha’e yer back.”
Ginny nodded slowly. She had the entire federal law enforcement system on her side, as well as the local authorities, and the massed strength of the clan.
“If ye mak’ a mistake, if ye fall, ane o’ them will tak’ o’er fer ye. Ye dinna ha’e tae do it alone and ye dinna ha’e tae be perfect. Being Scots means being willin’ tae try, even though ye may fail. And bein’ prepared cuts th’ chance o’ that.” He caught her eye and held it. “I’ve an assignment fer ye, lass. Go inta my office and fetch a pad and a pen.”
Ginny did as told.
“Sit, lass, yer goin’ tae write.”
An hour later Ginny looked down at the action plan they had created and felt that she might, just might, be able to pull this off. The ideas they had come up with were specific, realistic steps toward an as-yet-unreachable (but a whole lot closer) goal. She rose and let Himself escort her to his door.
“I’ll expect ye tae report back tae me on yer progress.”
“Aye, Mackenzie.” Ginny turned to face him, curtsied, then, throwing protocol to the wind, reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug. “Yer welcome, lass.”
* * *