Chapter 26
Bentley
Douglas Taylor III walked swiftly into the forest, cursing loudly.
It had to have been MacLeod to have sabotaged his car again.
But this time he’d gone too far. The damned thing had made a horrible noise and subsequently begun belching smoke.
Borrowing another car had taken far too much of his mental energy. MacLeod would pay for that as well.
Oh, and also for that bit of minor roughing up MacLeod had dished out. Bentley cursed again to make himself feel better. He’d had a hell of a time getting out of bed the next day—not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.
He’d given it plenty of thought over the past three weeks, of course, while he camped in the woods watching something he couldn’t for the life of him understand.
MacLeod. In a skirt. Just standing in the forest. Just standing. Doing nothing else.
A strange Scottish fertility rite?
A man trying to get in touch with his inner child?
MacLeod hoping to see Madelyn reappear out of the trees?
Whatever the case, MacLeod had been waiting in vain. Bentley knew, because he’d been waiting just as long, with the same, unsatisfying results.
It was baffling, this situation. He’d been baffled three weeks ago when he’d finally caught up with Madelyn only to have her vanish without a trace.
Things like that happened in the Bermuda Triangle—he knew because along with his vocabulary tapes, he had a large library of UFO materials—but not in Great Britain.
And if Madelyn was still around, why was MacLeod showing up here almost constantly, just waiting around in his fairy suit, apparently waiting for something to happen?
Who knew?
It was just one of the most curious things he’d ever seen. In fact, it had unsettled him so, he’d almost been discovered. In fact, he wasn’t sure MacLeod didn’t know he was there. But he was sure he didn’t want MacLeod to know he was there. He was still sore from their little encounter.
If he’d had a gun, he would have used it.
Or perhaps not. He definitely could have gotten one, by hook or crook. But he hadn’t been all that tempted. It was far more interesting to watch MacLeod panic and wonder what he was panicking about.
He’d checked passenger lists on a couple of major carriers—it was handy to have friends with criminal backgrounds who owed him favors—but hadn’t seen Madelyn’s name in the past month.
She was still in Scotland. She was probably not loitering in a landfill, given that MacLeod was haunting the place she’d last been with a religious commitment that bordered on obsession.
Go figure.
But what was MacLeod obsessing about?
Who knew?
Bentley reached his accustomed hiding place only to see a brief flash of plaid skirt before MacLeod was gone.
Damn.
He walked around the forest, trying to use his rudimentary tracking skills to follow any footprints that might have been left behind.
None to be found.
MacLeod was gone.
He cursed heartily, then decided that perhaps it was time to revisit the pub. Perhaps he could find that lad he’d paid to spy on Madelyn and MacLeod the last time. The boy had been full of all kinds of details Bentley hadn’t been interested in.
Rumors of magic.
Tales of time travel.
Yes, a little visit to the pub was definitely in order.
He jammed his hands in his pockets and hurried on his way, leaving his lawn chair and the enormous pile of trash left over from his snacks behind him.