Hamza sat outside a semi-detached house in Drumnadrochit, the windows of his car coated with a layer of misty white condensation as he polished off the last of his bag of chips. He’d wanted to get on the road sharp, and so hadn’t hung around for the Chinese to be delivered to the Fort William station. Instead, he’d grabbed a poke of chips in Fort Augustus, and dipped into them on the way up the road.

He hadn’t counted on the steam factor, though, and had nearly frozen himself to death driving the remaining ten miles of the journey with all four windows wound down and a gale blustering in.

Once the last of the crunchy bits at the bottom of the tray were eaten, he scrunched the paper around it and wiped enough of the condensation from the windscreen so he could check the address. Pitkerrald Road. This was the place, alright.

He got out of the car, snuck his chip bag into the green wheelie bin just inside the garden of the house he’d come to visit, then carried on up the path.

The house seemed pleasant enough. Paintwork could’ve done with a touch-up, but the windows and doors were new, and the garden—while low maintenance, with lots of gravel and rocks—was well cared for. Cracking spot, too, he thought, looking at the open field directly across the road as he ding-donged the doorbell and waited for a response from inside.

The lights were on in the living room, though the blinds had been shut. Uniform had driven past earlier but, as instructed, had kept away. No point scaring the lassie. For all they knew, she was sat in there now rocking her new baby to sleep.

He pressed the bell again, and heard the chime ring out on the other side of the door. While he waited, he took another quick look at her photo to make sure he’d recognise her when she answered. Her big eyes gazed back at him from the screen of his phone, a smile playing across her lips like she was teasing him with something she knew that he didn’t.

She was attractive, there were no two ways about it. There would be plenty of men who’d pay good money to see her whipping her kit off, and whatever else she might be willing to do under the beady glare of the cameras.

Hamza definitely felt something stirring as he looked down at those big eyes and freckles, but not that. He had no interest in that sort of thing.