Chapter Thirteen The Light at the End of the Tunnel
Isla
Isla’s eyes fluttered open, but she was met with an inky blackness that seemed to suffocate her. She tried to move, but her hands and legs were bound behind her back, immobilizing her. Panic set in as she realized she was trapped.
There were two lanterns perched on a mounted block to her right. The soft glow cast eerie shadows on the walls, making her heart racing even faster.
Isla’s breath came in short gasps as she struggled against her restraints. Her mind was a jumble of fear and confusion. Someone had pulled her down the steps, knocking her out.
Callum. She recalled how she had gotten into the predicament. And he could return any second and kill her. Isla’s eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape, but there was none. She was trapped, alone.
They will come for me.
They will surely come for me.
Isla refused to lose hope.
Just then, a cloaked figure appeared from the direction of the lantern light. She pressed herself into the wall, wanting to disappear.
The cloaked figure grabbed the lantern, stalking toward her.
“Callum?” she called, frightened.
“Um-um,” the figure answered.
“Who are you?!” she shrieked, pushing into the wall. The hardness of the wall scarping her skin.
The figure crouched in front of her and raised the lantern to its face.
She gasped. “Dugan.”
He grabbed her chin forcefully and delivered a villainous grin. “Aye, lass. Ye are going to make a very bonnie scapegoat.” He pushed her backward, causing her head to hit the wall. She yelped in pain. “It was you… oh my God.” She tried to straighten up, wincing at the difficulty.
A bark suddenly echoed through the tunnel. Isla’s eyes widened at the sound of her dog. Shakespeare!
Dugan sneered in irritation. “I’ll start with the pup of yers.” He rose angrily, storming away.
Isla pulled herself into a kneeling position, and she began clawing at her restraints to no avail. Oh, Shakespeare. She whimpered as silence filled the air.
She tried again, pulling and pinching at the ropes. They were just too tight. She wiggled her hands, hoping to slip them through, but all attempts were futile.
“Isla?” a familiar voice called.
Finlay. Her head whipped toward the direction of the voice. A phone flashlight came on. “Finlay!” she cried, wiggling about. Shakespeare ran towards hers, nuzzling and squirming at her buckled knee. He barked excitedly.
“Shhh, he will come back. You have to be quiet,” she urged.
A shadow lingered behind Finlay. Dugan? Her heart skipped a beat. He is back.
“Behind you!”
Finlay aimed the light at the shadow. It was Callum. “Callum?”
“Aye, it’s me.”
Finlay rushed toward her, inspecting the ropes used to bind her hands and feet. “It’s Dugan. He killed them. We can’t leave Finlay,” she said, dodging his attempt to loosen her restraints.
“I know. Callum confessed.”
Confessed?
“He asked Callum to steal my watch so he could use it to set me up,” Finlay explained.
“That’s true, Isla. He promised to pay off my debts. I’m so sorry,” Callum pleaded.
Wait a minute! “And how do we know you are not still working for him?” she asked, her voice firm.
Callum’s smile was quick and menacing. He grabbed a nearby stick and swung it at Finlay, knocking him out cold.
Isla’s heart stopped, her eyes wide as Callum pocketed Finlay’s phone and called out, “Dugan!” He raced to the right toward the lanterns. “Dugan!”
“Callum don’t do this. He might be using you!” she said, trying to convince him otherwise. “You know too much.” She glanced at Finlay, who was lying helplessly from the corner of her eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“Dugan!” Callum yelled.
Shakespeare barked at him, but Callum held the stick toward the dog in silent warning.
“Callum, please!” Isla begged.
Dugan emerged from the shadows, a look of approval on his face. “I don’t know what ye are doing here, but well done, Callum.” He laughed dryly. “Ye’ve earned yer reward. I’ll settle yer debts, and ye will never owe anyone again. Ye are free to leave town if ye want.”
Callum’s eyes gleamed with greed as he held Shakespeare down. Isla whimpered as Shakespeare struggled against him.
Dugan turned to Isla and Finlay, his expression cold. “As for ye two, ye will never see daylight again. This is where ye both die.” He laughed, “In yer next life, ye will learn to mind yer goddamn business!”
“So, is that why you are doing this?” Isla asked. “Because we discovered your dirty little secret?”
“Dirty little secret? If anyone had a secret, it was that good-for-nothing wife of mine.”
Isla’s eyes widened. “You killed her.”
“I did not!” he shot back and then exhaled. “Hmm, I see ye want a story. I never planned to say more than how I intend to kill you and frame Romeo here.” Dugan chuckled.
“I loved Malina, and she cheated on me. With James Buchan, the man who her father wanted her to marry because I was too poor for him.” He let out a shaky laugh and continued, “For fifteen years, I struggled to raise our daughter only to find out that she was not my biological child. I asked her to get Buchan to will some of his properties to Beatrice, but she refused. I was out drinking one day, and I decided to pay the bloody womanizer a visit, get him to sign some properties to his own blood daughter.”
Dugan raised one hand. “In my defence, I was drunk. He told me he would if it was his last name on the document and not mine.” He paused. “Beatrice Buchan.” Repulsion danced across his face. “Or else he was going to donate his properties to the town.”
Dugan shrugged off the cloak, revealing a machete in his right hand.
“I refused, and then he called me impotent. He said I could never get a woman pregnant.” Dugan paused again, staring into space.
“Get out of my house, ye poor drunk!” He rushed toward Isla.
“He went inside and brought out the deed, tried to sign it in my presence.” He chuckled, glaring at Isla.
“I strangled him with my bare hands, then I confessed to Malina, and she killed herself.”
“He forced my hand. Ye must ken that,” Dugan added.
Isla’s body shook at Dugan’s confession. “I’m so sorry all of that happened to you,” she managed to say.
“Tired of the story. Or is it too sick for yer wee pretty life, Isla.”
Isla noticed Finlay stirring beside her. He groaned, straightening up. Dugan pointed the machete at him. “Welcome back,” he said.
“Huh?” Finlay looked around groggily, and then realising the situation, he reached for Isla, but Dugan swung the matchet in front of him. “Dinnae think it!”
“Where were we?” Dugan glanced at Isla. “Hmm?” He grabbed her. “Answer me.”
“She… she killed herself,” Isla choked out.
“Good, ye are following. Ye will be taking that story to the grave.” And then he pointed the machete at Finlay, “And ye, to jail.”
Dugan frowned, his grip tightening on the machete. “Imagine what that does to ye… to be betrayed by yer wife.” He swallowed. “To hae fruitless seeds. I took all his property, every land and penny I could find. I took it all.”
“No, you didn’t,” Finlay cut in. “You had help.”
Dugan turned to him with a glare. “What are ye talking about?”
“Farlan Fairgrieve, he helped you cover James’ murder. He helped you acquire those properties, but only if you let him have the church.”
Dugan eyes grew wide. He murmured the name under his breath. “How do you know Farlan Fairgrieve?”
Isla turned to Finlay with a puzzled look. How did he know? She stared at him expectantly.
Finlay’s eyes fell, weighted by shame, and he turned away as if unable to bear the scrutiny. “He was my father.”
Isla was confused. Who is Farlan? But then she recalled Mrs Keith had mentioned a contractor helping her secure her property. Helping her build her house.
Farlan was Finlay’s father? Her heart raced. That meant he put James Buchan in the box and buried him under Mrs Keith’s home.
It finally made sense why Mrs Keith always felt she knew Finlay. It was his father’s resemblance she saw.
“Finlay? All along… you knew?” she asked, refusing to believe he had kept this secret from her.
“No, Isla. I dinnae ken he helped cover a murder. I swear. I found out today.”
“Ye are Fairgrieve’s son.” Dugan chuckled. “I guess I hae to kill ye bo—"
Callum released Shakespeare. The dog leapt in the air, biting Dugan’s hand, causing him to let go of the machete. Callum shoved Dugan into the wall, kicking the machete toward Finlay.
“Free her now!”
Finlay grabbed the machete, cutting Isla loose. “Shakes! Come on, boy!” Isla screamed. Shakespeare let go of Dugan’s arm, and the trio ran away from the scene.
Did Callum just save us? Isla wondered as they ran for safety. Everything was happening so fast she couldn’t wrap her head around it.
“I have the map. Moira gave it to me,” Finlay announced when they had run a good distance away from Dugan.
Callum had managed to snatch one of the lanterns. He held it up for Finlay to see. “Left.” Finlay ordered.
They followed the map until it led them to a manhole. “It’s rusted.” Isla winced, gazing up at the manhole, her eyes fixed on the iron ladder that hung precariously above. It was cut off halfway, leaving a daunting gap between the bottom rung and the ground.
“Because this leads to the bindery. Dugan doesn’t know this area,” Finlay explained. “We have to jump.”
Finlay cupped his hands, and Isla stepped into them.
He lifted her up, and she reached for the ladder, her fingers closing around the cold metal.
She pulled herself up, her legs scrambling for purchase as she climbed out of the manhole.
It opened into a dark space. But at least they were away from Dugan.
Finlay jumped up next, his hands grasping for the ladder. He caught hold of it, his fingers wrapping around the metal as he began to climb. Callum handed him Shakespeare, and Finlay tucked the animal under his arm as he continued to ascend.
As Callum began to climb, he yelped in pain. Finlay and Isla, now safely out of the manhole, watched in horror as Dugan struck him on the leg with a log. Callum’s grip on the ladder faltered, but he managed to hold on, his body dangling precariously above the ground.
Dugan continued to strike Callum. “How dare ye betray me!”
Callum reached into his pocket and handed Finlay his phone, his voice strained with pain. “Everything ye need is recorded,” he gasped, grip slipping on the iron bars.
Finlay took the phone and handed it to Isla. “We’re not leaving you behind, Callum,” he said, reaching down to grab Callum’s arm.
Despite Dugan’s continued blows, Finlay and Isla pulled Callum up, finally hauling him to safety. Dugan’s face contorted with rage as he realized he had been foiled.
They all fell back, gasping with exhaustion and relief. Isla clutched the phone tightly, her eyes darted to Finlay. “We did it,” she whispered. But as they lay there, catching their breath, their ordeal was far from over when the iron ladder creaked and groaned with new weight.
Shakespeare barked into the manhole, ears perked up and alert.
Dugan was climbing up.
“We have to get out of here.” Finlay scrambled to his feet.
Isla’s fingers trembled as she switched on the phone’s light, illuminating the dark hallway. She blinked, confused. This wasn’t the bindery the map had promised. It was a narrow corridor that stretched out before them, lined with cobweb-shrouded pipes.
Shakespeare, sensing their uncertainty, took the lead. He darted forward, his tail wagging furiously. Isla and Finlay exchanged a glance, then quickly followed, supporting Callum’s battered body between them.
As they ran, the tiny phone light cast eerie shadows on the walls. Isla kept the beam trained on the path ahead, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of amber light in the distance.
“Finlay, that’s it,” Isla said breathlessly. “We are almost there, Callum. Hang in there.”
Callum responded with a groan, his head dangling as they ran toward the light.
Suddenly, they burst into a vast room filled with ancient rusty machines, their metal surfaces glinting in the faint light. A figure stood at an open door, beckoning them forward.
“Isla! Finlay!” Though muffled, Isla knew the voice of her gran.
With renewed hope, they navigated the maze of machinery, with Shakespeare barking and leading the charge. As they emerged into the bright lights of the bindery, Isla spotted Moira, her face etched with worry, flanked by a group of police officers.
With a surge of relief, they rushed toward Moira, the officers closing in to surround them. Dugan, his face twisted with rage, burst through the doorway only to be tackled by the waiting police.
As the officers pinned Dugan to the ground, Isla felt Finlay’s arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close. Callum, battered but alive, smiled weakly at her.
“We are safe,” Finlay whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
Isla nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. They had made it out. They were safe.