Page 9 of Utterly Dauntless

“We don't know enough yet. Give our man some time."

“She always keeps a car. Always. Never risks being caught without an escape plan. Never broke pattern before.”

"Like I said, we don't know enough yet. Talk soon." Kitch hung up.

Grey tossed the phone aside, opened the door, and climbed out to accept a cold kiss from the morning air. After a second trip to the trees, he popped open the boot of his car and removed the go bag. Protein bars, a box of Tunnock's tea cakes, and two bottles of water were going to save his life.

She was lost in the wind by now. A clever man would turn back, head for his flat, and get some proper rest before thinking any further. He even started the engine, convincing himself it was the logical step. After some sleep and a shower, he could hire a plane to Dublin and be there to greet her when the ferry docked. But when he pulled back onto the road, his car continued south, as if it had decided for him.

That was it. He would blame the car.

CHAPTER SEVEN

In Fort William, he stopped for petrol and checked his phone for any messages from Kitchens. It was then he noticed he'd missed a call the day before from an unknown number. His heart stuttered to a stop, stunned by the possibility it might have been from her.

His fingers fumbled to open his voicemail. There was a single message. When he pressed the button and heard her voice, he nearly wept.

"Grey? Listen. If this guy in the blue van is one of yours, call him off, would you? He's freakin' me out."

He immediately returned the call, hoping against hope she would pick up. If she was all right, she wouldn't want him worrying after leaving him such a message.

The phone rang and rang.

A man answered. "Aye?"

"Who's this then?"

"Tristan Bain. Is that ye, Number 25?"

"Aye, it's me." For a few hundred years, while haunting the battlefield on Culloden Moor, Grey and 78 others had known each other by their numbers, from when Reveille was called. "She left the phone in the car?"

"Aye. Not as empty as I expected."

"Tell me."

"There's an old doll, a tin of half-eaten cake, and a cup and saucer wrapped carefully. Found a packed bag in the boot. I reckon maybe yer woman wouldnae have left them behind if she'd have had a choice in the matter."

"No, she wouldnae." He told the man about the phone message. "So we’re lookin' for a bastard in a blue van."

"There's an officer here now. I'll pass the word."

"I'm grateful. And Number 10?"

"Aye?"

"Guard that demitasse and saucer like yer life depends upon it, would ye? And the doll as well, I suppose."

"Done."

Grey dialed Kitchens and got back on the road.

"Grey?"

"Aye. I just spoke to Tristan Bain. He found the car. She left her phone behind."

"A burner?"

"Aye. But that's not all." He told him the rest, including the phone message.

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