Chapter 31
Parking next to Gayle’s car, Jake got out of the hire car, plastic bag in hand. He raced to the front door. Gayle opened the door as he approached. Jake swiftly put the plastic bag behind his back.
‘Jake. Welcome back.’
He glanced furtively at her as he entered the hallway, hoping she hadn’t been watching him from the kitchen window as he approached, looking like a drug addict who had just scored.
She closed the door behind him.
Jake kept his hand behind his back. He knew it looked odd. ‘Is Marcus up and about yet?’
‘Oh, he went out soon after you left,’ said Gayle over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.
‘He did?’ Jake looked down the hallway, confused; Marcus hadn’t so much as fallen asleep as fallen into a coma before he left. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Uh-huh. I gave him a key to the front door before he left, so he can return when he wants. Sorry, I forgot to give you a key too. I’ve been watching out for your return to unlock the front door for you.’
Jake glanced up the stairs and decided to go and see for himself.
In the bedroom, he discovered that the curtains were still drawn but the bed was empty, and Marcus’s Gucci shoes were gone. Jake shut the bedroom door. Where the hell had he gone without a car?
Jake returned to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching Gayle. She stood by the oven, wearing a large pair of oven gloves. She opened the oven door and lifted something out.
Jake’s mouth watered at the thought of home baking.
She turned around. Her massive oven gloves were wrapped around a small, deep, rectangular foil tray. She stopped when she saw Jake standing in the doorway. ‘Come in and join me for dinner.’ She set the foil tray down on the large wooden table in the centre of the room.
Jake eyed the tray. ‘What is it?’
‘Haggis hotpot, and I’ve got plenty more.’
Jake spied several empty rectangular cardboard boxes on the worktop near the oven, bearing pictures of hotpot.
‘Come, sit.’ Gayle pulled out a chair for Jake to join her.
Jake hesitated. He was not a great fan of fast food, and that included pre-packaged frozen meals. But he was hungry, his stomach was complaining, and he had to admit that it did smell surprisingly good for a ready meal.
‘I was waiting for you to return.’
‘You didn’t have to do that, Gayle.’
‘I tend to eat my evening meal later anyway,’ Gayle replied.
Jake eyed the food tray and hesitated.
‘Ah – you were expecting home-cooking,’ said Gayle, tipping the foil tray and dishing it out onto a dinner plate. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint, but cooking is not quite my forté, although on occasion I do cook a roast, and my cooked breakfasts are very nice indeed, if I do say so my—’
‘Gayle,’ Jake interrupted, looking past her out of the kitchen window. The eerie stillness of dusk was quickly descending on the garden. Jake had lost track of time. It was later than he’d thought. It would be dark soon, and there was still no sign of Marcus.
‘Did Marcus mention where he was going?’
Gayle shook her head. ‘Not a word. I was here in the kitchen when I glanced out of the window and saw him walking down the driveway. I didn’t hear the front door go. When I went out to have a look, the front door was wide open.’
Jake sighed. ‘Sorry about that.’
Gayle picked up the knife and fork beside her plate. ‘He seems preoccupied.’
Jake knew exactly what Marcus was preoccupied with. He could feel the bulge in his pocket where he’d stuffed the plastic bag containing the methadone. He’d also seen the state of their room when he’d nipped upstairs. Both his bag and Marcus’s suitcase had been emptied completely; their contents had been strewn around the room in a frenzied search for the methadone that Jake had in his possession. Marcus, by that time, would have been frantic, desperate to find Jake, desperate to get something into his system.
Jake turned on his heel and headed for the front door, then did a quick about-turn. He poked his head around the kitchen door. ‘Gayle.’
She looked up.
‘Thanks for the offer.’ He pointed at the hotpot. ‘Sorry, but I’m not stopping to eat dinner. I’m going to look for Marcus.’
‘Maybe next time,’ Gayle said with her mouth full, ‘I’ll cook something myself.’ She pointed at the food on her plate. ‘Tastes good, though.’
Jake didn’t have time to hang around and tell her she’d got it wrong; that his reason for declining the offer had nothing whatsoever to do with the food. He really did need to find Marcus.
Jake shut the front door behind him and headed for his car. He patted his pockets for his car keys and felt the phials. He walked faster.
He sped down the driveway, flicking on his headlights. Suddenly, he slowed. It occurred to him that it might not be wise to speed down the driveway if Marcus was walking back at that very moment.
He reached the end of the driveway. There was still no sign of him.
‘Now where?’ Jake pondered as he sat in the receding light at the end of the driveway. There was only one place he could go, and that was into town. Aviemore was the only place that had a chemist, and in Marcus’s irrational state of mind, he was probably thinking he could just waltz in there and pick something up over the counter.
Jake drove down the street.
After a short distance, he stopped the car. What if he was way off beam and Marcus had in fact gone out for something else? Jake had an idea what that might be. He backed up the car and stopped a little way up the street from Lark Lodge. He remembered the lane between the houses that led to a gate – a hidden entrance that he doubted people knew about. The lane was overgrown, the gate probably rusted with age. Would the gate be locked? Jake had no clue whether he’d need a key to get into the grounds of The Lake House. He presumed so. Jake didn’t have one. Nobody had used that cut-through for years. He decided not to bother walking up the lane to find out if the gate was open.
Jake put the car into gear and drove down the street, taking an immediate right turn. A very short distance along the main road was a familiar turn-off which led to one single property set back from the road that fronted a loch – The Lake House. The extensive walled garden backed on to Gayle’s property.
Jake turned into the lane, driving several hundred yards before he slowed the car to a stop at the entrance to a driveway. He sat listening to the hum of the engine. A streetlamp cast a hazy yellow glow a short distance up the drive. Beyond that, all Jake could make out were grey shapes in the gloom. It was getting dark fast. Jake pumped the gas and steered the car into the driveway. He took it slowly. He followed the drive around the back of the house, barely giving it a second glance as he passed by. If Marcus was there, he knew exactly where to find him.
Jake brought the car to a stop. He left the headlights on and got out; the two beams of light illuminated the empty shingle parking area at the back of the house and the old stone steps leading down to the garden beyond. Jake took the steps two at a time, entering the gardens.
He cut diagonally across the lawn, heading for the six-foot hedging that to anyone not familiar with the house would assume marked the boundary of the grounds. It did not. Jake walked through a narrow gap in the hedge to reveal a smaller, secluded area of garden. He stood there, letting his eyes adjust to the deepening gloom; Jake could make out the grey shapes of bushes and trees and the hedge on the other side – but there was no sign of Marcus.
Jake’s eyes focused on the centre of the garden. He couldn’t see much at all, and within a matter of minutes it would be pitch dark. It didn’t matter, though; he didn’t need to see what was there to know why Marcus might have gone there.
Jake backed out of the garden.
‘I couldn’t go in.’
Jake whirled around in fright and kicked something with his shoe.
‘Ow. Jake!’
Looking down, Jake discovered Marcus sitting on the damp grass to one side of the gap, his back against the hedge, knees drawn up to his chin. Jake rolled his eyes. ‘For goodness’ sake – why didn’t you say something so that I knew you were there!’ Jake kicked him again, intentionally this time.
‘I just did!’
‘No, I meant when I first walked into the garden. I thought I was alone. This isn’t one of those places that you … well, you know.’ He crouched down opposite Marcus.
‘Thought I was a ghost, did you?’ Marcus said through chattering teeth.
Jake reached out and put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. ‘Are you intending to sit here all night?’ It was cold, and Marcus had no coat. Jake got up. ‘Come on let’s get out of here.’
‘Jake, I …’ Whatever Marcus was going to say was lost in the attempt to stand up.
Jake watched him take a few faltering steps before grabbing Marcus’s right arm and swinging it around his shoulder. With the other arm wrapped around Marcus’s waist, Jake guided him back up the garden into the beams of light from the waiting car. He was thinking about Marcus’s arrest. In hindsight, Jake had realised that Marcus would not have taken anything with him on the flight or in his luggage – he wasn’t that stupid. So, he must have made arrangements to get hold of something when he landed. Then he had found himself incarcerated overnight in the police station at Inverness with no chance of meeting up with the contact and spending an inordinate amount of money on illegal drugs. And now he was going cold turkey. Jake knew this had not come about through choice.
The police officer was right; if he was any sort of friend, he would get him some help. But they weren’t brothers, and they weren’t friends – not anymore. And yet for all Jake’s desire to see Marcus suffer for his role in Eleanor’s death, the reality of seeing Marcus in such a state was having an unexpected side- effect – Jake was hurting too.
Jake helped Marcus into the front seat of the car and toyed with the idea of asking Gayle to take a look at him when they got back. He got in the car next to Marcus and reversed in an arc away from the gardens.
‘What was that?’ said Marcus.
Jake stopped the car.
‘Did you hear it?’ Marcus turned to Jake.
Jake sat very still and listened intently; there were noises coming from the house.
He put the gear shift in neutral, handbrake on, switched to main beam and opened the car door.
Marcus grabbed his arm. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To take a look. Do you mind?’ said Jake, glancing his way. With the car door open and the interior light on, Jake got a good look at Marcus; he didn’t look well. He was deathly pale, and beads of sweat lined his forehead above black sunken eyes.
Marcus released his grip on Jake’s arm.
Jake got out and stood for a moment, staring at the house. The sight that confronted him was fast approaching the state of Gayle’s house before Robyn had worked her miracle. Jake was amazed at the state of the house. From what he could see, a couple of exterior window shutters had come loose and were swinging in the wind. The paint on the windows was peeling, and a large crack had spread across one of the window panes in the lounge. The glass would need replacing And that was just the downstairs. The upstairs, not illuminated by the headlights, disappeared in a sea of black.
How could a house go downhill like this in such a short space of time? He couldn’t recall the last time the exterior of the house had been painted. As a family, the Rosses had all led busy lives. Hiring a decorator for a holiday home was perhaps not up there on their list of top priorities. At Christmas, he doubted anyone had really been paying attention to the exterior of the house when they’d all arrived; thoughts of redecorating would have been far from their minds.
Jake heard a loud bang coming from the direction of the house. He ducked his head instinctively and moved out of the glare of the headlight around the side of the car. He looked into the passenger window at Marcus, who had heard it too; he was hunkered down in his seat.
Something banged again.
Jake moved towards the house, but the headlights suddenly went dim. Jake glanced back at the car. Marcus had dipped the headlights and was watching him intently, shaking his head from side to side and motioning for him to get back in the car. Jake ignored him and moved stealthily across the shingle drive, wincing at every crunching step.
At the back of the house, Jake relaxed and stood up straight, grabbing the kitchen door before it swung shut again in the wind. Stepping into the kitchen, he scuffed a pile of dead leaves that had blown in through the open door. He flicked a light switch, but the electricity was out. Jake knew where to find the fuse box, but he didn’t fancy breaking his neck on the steep cellar steps.
He stepped outside and shut the door.
‘What did you find?’ said Marcus as Jake got back in the car.
‘It was just the kitchen door banging in the wind.’ Jake threw the gearshift into first and headed back around the side of the house.
Marcus turned to look out of the back window as they drove down the driveway. Then he faced the front again and turned to Jake. ‘We should have had the place decorated or something. I’m surprised how it’s deteriorated in the last few months.’
Jake nodded.
‘What did it look like inside?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean you don’t know? You were in there, weren’t you?’
‘No electricity,’ he said, glancing at Marcus, who was shaking. ‘You cold?’ Jake switched the heating on.
‘We should call someone.’ Marcus’s teeth chattered.
‘It can wait until morning; the house isn’t going anywhere.’
Clear of the driveway, Jake drove the short distance back to Lark Lodge and discovered that they no longer had the place to themselves. Another car was already parked in their spot next to the Bentley. Jake helped Marcus out of the car, and together they made their way across the gravel drive, passing the other guest’s car. Jake spotted a yellow hard hat perched on the rear parcel shelf.
Marcus unlocked the front door. There was no sign of Gayle, or any of the other guests. They went up to their room. Marcus lay down on the bed as Jake quietly shut the bedroom door.
‘Where were you? You were gone ages.’
Jake stood by the bed. ‘I just had something to do. I thought you’d be asleep for hours. I didn’t think you’d wake up while I was gone.’
‘When you didn’t come back, I went to look for you.’
Jake raised his eyebrows. ‘You thought I’d gone to The Lake House?’
‘Yeah.’
Jake slipped off Marcus’s Gucci shoes again, placing them by the couch this time, as if that would somehow stop him from wandering off.
Jake sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Marcus; he was shivering and sweating profusely. Jake reached out and touched his forehead. His skin felt clammy to the touch. ‘Have you got a fever?’
‘No.’ Marcus grabbed Jake’s hand.
Jake winced.
‘Where’s the plastic bag I was given in the police station?’ Marcus held onto Jake’s bandaged hand tight.
‘Let go of my hand, Marcus,’ Jake said calmly.
‘Have you got it?’ he demanded. He squeezed.
A sliver of pain ran up Jake’s hand like a knife. Slowly, Jake produced the plastic bag from his coat pocket and tossed it on the bed next to Marcus.
He let go of Jake’s hand.
Jake cradled his sore hand. ‘It was in the car where you dropped it.’
Marcus snatched the bag off the bed.
Jake watched him get up and head for the bathroom. ‘Marcus, I know you’re using. Just how serious is—’
Marcus slammed the bathroom door.