7

Rebecca found Roddie Drummond on the open-air deck, leaning against the railing with his eyes on the island as it loomed across the Sound. The ferry was not yet close enough to distinguish any real details, but the mountain was clear and the rolling hills around it. There was a legend that it was the head and shoulders of a giant, cursed by the Three Witches of Stoirm to forever watch over the island. If that was true, the giant had one hell of a pointed head. Beinn nan sìthichean, they called it, but most people pronounced it Ben Shee. Fairy mountain. The story was merely one of many legends on Stoirm, she had learned.

She could just make out the little dots of houses around Portnaseil and the jetty at which they would dock in another thirty minutes. The wind caught at her hair as she moved to Drummond’s side and for some reason she wondered if he was cold in his thin jacket. He gave her a glance, then resumed studying his old home once more. Below them, the bow churned up white water and sent waves fleeing across the surface to die. She laid a hand on the rail, partly to steady herself, partly to grip something unwielding for support as she steeled herself to speak. The faint vibration of the engines travelled from the white-painted metal up her arm. She had decided that there was no time like the present to approach him. It had to be done, so why not now?

‘Mr Drummond,’ she said, her voice raised against the wind and the drone of the engines, ‘my name is Rebecca Connolly. I’m a reporter with the Highland Chronicle.’

He gave her another look and something like weariness stole into his brown eyes. Then he sighed and turned away again. When he spoke, she almost missed his words as they were caught by the breeze and snatched away to sea. ‘Go away.’

‘Mr Drummond, I’m here to help you.’

He gave her a mocking laugh, as he turned to face her, resting both elbows against the railings. ‘Really? How can you help me?’

‘I can tell your side of the story. It’s never been made public.’

‘What makes you think I want to tell my side of the story?’

She took a half step towards him, aware that if she got any closer they’d have to put the banns up, but she didn’t want to have to shout above the rumble of the engine and the snatching wind. ‘I heard what Sawyer said to you. He still believes you’re guilty.’

Drummond’s laugh was rueful this time. ‘Aye, him and the rest of the world.’

‘That’s why you need to talk to me, Mr Drummond. That’s why you need to get your side of it out there.’

He looked her up and down. ‘And you’re doing this for my benefit, I suppose?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I want the story.’

Something like amusement crinkled his eyes. ‘It’ll help you in your career, is that it?’

‘That’s it. But I do also believe it will help you. Sawyer was right back there. Not Proven, Mr Drummond. To a lot of people that means guilty, but there’s nothing we can do about it.’

If he was surprised she’d been listening in downstairs he didn’t show it. He turned away to fix his eyes on the island again. ‘Do you think I’m guilty?’

She’d expected he would ask that at some point. ‘I don’t know. Only you know that. Are you?’

She studied his profile as he considered her answer, his gaze still centred on his former home. The amusement she’d seen earlier had been replaced by very real sadness. He gave her a slight shake of the head, as if he’d grown tired of denying it, then scanned the surface of the water, his eyes coming to rest on a small blue fishing boat in the distance. Rebecca could see dolphins leaping out of the water on either side.

‘Go away, Miss Connolly. I don’t want to talk to you.’

Rebecca hadn’t expected him to talk right away, but she was still disappointed. ‘I’m staying at the Portnaseil Hotel. If you change your mind, you can find me there.’ He didn’t acknowledge her in any way, his attention focused on the fishing boat, as if he were trying to see who was on board, but it was too far away to make out any particular individual. ‘Think about it, Mr Drummond. I think I can help you.’

When it was evident he wasn’t going to say anything further she left him to his thoughts, whatever they were. She saw Sawyer watching them from the top of the steps that led back down to the café. He stepped aside to let her pass but didn’t say a word.