Chapter 28 - Taran
“There is no such package, there is no such thing as not being able to send it across the ferry for insurance purposes, and no one from this post office would have called you regarding it,” the woman behind the Perspex window snapped.
My cheeks flushed at her nasty tone as Quinn and I stood at the desk with a queue of people behind us. I pressed my phone screen against her window. “Here. This is the post office’s phone number, is it not?”
With an impatient roll of her eyes, she took a second before leaning forward to peer at it. She frowned. “That is our number. But that doesn’t prove someone called you regarding whatever it is you’re talking about.”
I gaped at her. “Why on earth would I make it up?”
“You’d be surprised by the stories I hear in this building.” She waved a hand at us. “Now I can’t help you any further, and I have customers to see to. Actual customers, not silly women with silly stories. Have a good day.”
Infuriated by her appalling customer service, I gritted my teeth and replied, “I hope you have the day you deserve.”
I heard Quinn stifle a laugh at the same time his hand curled around my elbow to tug me away from the counter. “Can you believe the cheek of it?” I huffed as we walked outside. “She was unhelpful from the moment we stepped up to the counter.”
“I hope you have the day you deserve,” Quinn repeated, shaking his head on a grin.
Amusement cut through my irritation. “Well, it’s true.”
“I’m going to use that.”
I let out a little laugh before heaving a massive sigh. “What a waste of a ferry ticket.”
“Why would someone phone you from a post office to lie?” Quinn pulled me to the side as tourists tried to get past us.
The post office was on a busy street in Oban, bustling with traffic and pedestrians.
Most of the town’s busiest thoroughfares were narrow between the stores, so there was a one-way system in place for vehicles.
Despite the rain-slicked pavements and the early hour, the weekend tourism meant we had little privacy for this conversation.
Frustrated I’d come all this way for nothing, I said, “I have no idea.”
“One second.” Quinn held up a finger before he pulled out his phone. I heard the dull ring of it and then the faint sound of someone answering. “Ramsay, quick question.”
I raised an eyebrow as I listened to Quinn’s side of the conversation.
“Can someone call from a number but trick the system into thinking the call is coming from a different number?” Quinn frowned as he stared at his feet, listening to whatever Ramsay said.
His eyes shot to me as he nodded and relayed for my benefit, “It’s called ID spoofing.
Many scammers use Voice over Internet Protocol technology to manipulate the information that appears on your caller ID display. ”
Unease shifted through me as I realized what Quinn was getting at.
“Is there a way to track down the real caller?” He nodded at whatever Ramsay said.
“It was Taran who got the call.” He informed his friend about this morning’s events and what had led me to coming to Oban.
Our surroundings were too loud for me to hear Ramsay’s response, but Quinn had grown quiet, listening.
Then he spoke again, “No idea why, but if we can find out who made the call, maybe we’ll discover why …
it could be just a prank, but with everything else going on … ”
My mind whirled as I turned from Quinn, taking a few steps away as I tried to think why anyone would make a call like that. What was the purpose?
It did get me on a ferry away from Leth Sholas. I paused, heart picking up pace. Did someone want me off Glenvulin? Or here in Oban specifically?
As I spun to voice my concerns out loud, it took my brain a second to register the hard clamp around my waist. It was only as my feet left the ground I realized I’d been grabbed.
Fear shot through me. “Quin—” A sweaty hand clamped down on my mouth as I was dragged backward down a narrow lane between the buildings.
“Taran!” I heard Quinn’s roar as I struggled in my captor’s grip, kicking and bucking, trying to slow them down. A dull pain exploded across my head and I slumped, momentarily stunned.
When my focus returned, my heart leapt at the sight of Quinn. He ran toward us, his face a mask of fury, and more pain ricocheted across my bottom and elbows. It took me another second to realize my attacker had dropped me like a sack of potatoes on the cobbled wynd.
Quinn skidded to a stop, lowering to his knees. “Taran, fuck, Taran,” he gasped, his wild gaze searching for injury. “Are you all right?”
I groaned, pushing up. “What the hell just happened? Who was that?”
“He wore a mask.” Quinn glowered over my head.
“Let’s go after him.” I tried to push to my feet, but my legs were like jelly.
“No, we’ll call the police, and we need to get you checked over.” Quinn’s hands rested on my hips, steadying me as I straightened.
I winced at my aches and pains as horrifying realization set in. “Someone wanted me here. To do this.”
He nodded, his jaw clenching. “Aye, it seems so.”
By the time we left the police station, my adrenaline had crashed, I was exhausted, and I hated to admit it, but I was anxious at the thought of being alone.
Thankfully, the blow to my head hadn’t been hard enough to cause concussion and the first aider at the police station had left it up to me to pay a visit to the hospital or not.
That was an “or not” for me. It was bad enough having to explain the situation to the puzzled police officers.
They did quite quickly find CCTV footage of my assailant (Quinn ID’d his clothing), but the man, whoever he was, kept his mask on until the cameras lost track of him.
The police promised to keep searching. Unfortunately, there was little I could tell them.
All I’d smelled was a mix of sweat and something like pickle on the hand he’d clamped over my mouth.
Otherwise, my senses hadn’t picked up on anything that would be helpful in identifying him.
Quinn finally informed the police of his suspicions over Eoghan McCall.
Even though he knew from the man’s build that it wasn’t Eoghan who had attempted to kidnap me in Oban, he thought there might still be a connection.
McCall was the only suspect we had. The police forwarded that information onto Leth Sholas police, but there was little they could do other than speak to Eoghan.
I’d been asked several times whether there was anyone I’d had a confrontation or altercation with in the past few weeks or months. There was no one, other than Quinn. I was at a complete loss as to who, other than Eoghan, would want to harm me.
It was chilling.
If Quinn hadn’t insisted on accompanying me to the post office, there was every chance my assailant would have succeeded in kidnapping me right off the street. I’d like to think a member of the public would have tried to help, but you never knew these days.
Whoever this was, they’d been desperate enough to plan to get me here and reckless enough to chance taking me in a public place.
“Are you returning to Glenvulin today, Ms. Macbeth?” PC Lewis, a young female officer asked as Quinn and I prepared to leave the police station.
“No,” Quinn answered before I could speak.
I gaped at him.
He reached out to take my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “We’re here until tomorrow.”
Eh … what?
“All right, well, we caution you to be vigilant while you’re in Oban. Contact us if anything else happens. And we’ll be in touch if any more information comes to light.”
Dazed by the entire morning’s events, I asked quietly as we walked out, still hand in hand, “We’re here until tomorrow?”
Quinn’s features were strained. “I just watched a man in a balaclava drag you up an alley … if you think for one second I’m letting you out of my sight, you have another thing coming.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I turned away. I hadn’t cried at all since the attack, and I didn’t want to now. I didn’t want to give whoever had done it the satisfaction. And while I was irritatingly afraid to be alone, I reminded Quinn, “You have Angus’s game. You can’t miss it.”
“You’re coming with me.”
I shook my head. “Quinn …” To hell with my pride. “I don’t think I can see Kiera today of all days.”
He squeezed my hand, bending his head so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. “I won’t force you to come along. I can drop you off at my hotel where I know you’ll be safe. But … maybe if you saw how happy and in love Kiera is with Gary … maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
At my hesitation, he winced. “Fuck, Taran, ignore me. You’ve just survived a botched fucking kidnapping attempt by Christ knows who. I’ll call Kiera and explain. She can drop the kids off at the hotel instead. You and I’ll just go back there and wait.”
Shock rooted me to the spot.
He would miss Angus’s game … for me?
I didn’t want that. No. There was no scenario in whatever was brewing between us where I would ever put Quinn in the position of having to choose between me and his kids. No matter the extenuating circumstances.
If I went back to the hotel, I’d stew and panic and worry.
If I went to the game, I’d be too distracted to think about the masked attacker or the break-in or the car nearly mowing me and Quinn down.
I licked my dry lips. “Did you call Ramsay back while I was being interviewed?”
Ramsay had called back multiple times after Quinn hung up to chase after me and the attacker.
He frowned at the subject change. “I did. When we return to Leth Sholas, he’ll need your phone to see if we can track who actually called you. Especially now.”
Okay. We were doing all we could to figure out who was behind this. I didn’t want to leave Quinn’s side because, despite our history, he made me feel safe. It occurred to me not for the first time in my almost thirty-seven years that learning self-defense might not be a bad thing.
“I’ll come with you.” I shrugged wearily. “I don’t want you to miss Angus’s game.”