Gilmont drove through every street in Little Dunkeld, hunting for a battered white 4x4. After half an hour, he extended his efforts across the river to its sister village on the off chance Agent Taylor had stopped for tea. But her vehicle was nowhere to be found.

Circling the cathedral, Gilmont rubbed his temple where a headache throbbed while he waited for Lauren to ring him with news. This hunt had turned into quite a chase with his prey proving to be a worthy opponent. The longer the pursuit, the angrier he became. And the more he anticipated Agent Taylor’s capture.

The hour lengthened without further sign of Agent Taylor’s whereabouts. She couldn’t have disappeared without a trace. He parked the car and got out to stretch his legs, following the pavement around the cathedral.

Idly, he soaked up the odd bits of Gothic and Norman architecture his ex-wife had adored. Despite Sandra’s disloyalty, he missed her and the children. Even though his kids feared him—their own father—he had done nothing to deserve their disregard. Everything he had done was for their benefit. Every single thing.

A cold fury built inside him. It was all Agent Taylor’s fault. Each one of his grievances was a direct result of her and that dead partner’s meddling.

His burner buzzed. “Lauren, tell me you have good news.”

“Good and bad,” Lauren responded. “I can’t track Agent Taylor; she must have disabled her mobile. But I know where she is.”

“Where?” Why was Lauren wringing this out as though he had nothing better to do?

“You aren’t going to like this.” The sound of computer keys came through the line.

“Why is that?” Gilmont asked, growing quiet inside.

“A 4x4 answering to the description of Agent Taylor’s was abandoned in the Hermitage car park.”

“Does it match her plate number?”

“I can’t tell. The 4x4 is angled away from the cameras, so it’s not one hundred percent certain, but I’ve pored over all the feed from the CCTV relay stations. Her 4x4 did not continue north of Blair Atholl. The last time her vehicle appeared on camera was in Little Dunkeld. If she’s entered the Tay Forest Park, she could be there for weeks without us finding her.”

“There’s always a solution, Lauren.” Frigid calm spread inside Gilmont. “What do you know about the Tay Forest Park?”

“It is vast in size and is a popular beauty spot with hillwalkers and day-trippers.”

“How vast?” Gilmont clamped his jaw, his teeth aching from the pressure.

“Its six different locations cover almost twenty-four miles due north from Dunkeld to Calvine and spread another twenty-two miles west of the A9.”

Gilmont strode to a bench outside the cathedral. His fingers clamped onto the back of its wooden slats while he processed the information. “Does Drew still have his pilot’s license?”

“He does,” Lauren said.