It had to be the Richard guy. She’d been afraid Stratton might tell him where she was, and it looked like she’d been right.

Sensing what was about to happen, Fergus slowed down enough for Greg to jump out of the cab. Then the fire engine, siren blaring, was on its way again into the ever-increasing smoke.

Standing for a moment to get his bearings, he realized he was close to the track he’d brought her to on the day she’d arrived at Blackrig. Could she be heading for the pine tree, and from there to Ard Choille or the lochan?

Why hadn’t she headed for the village, he asked himself? The answer, of course, was obvious. She intended to try to lose the bastard among the trees.

You should have run in front of us. You should have shouted for help.

He launched himself into the woods, pounding the wider track that led to where he’d left the Land Rover on the first occasion, his heavy gear beating against him. He contemplated losing some of it, then realized he shouldn’t because the route he thought she’d taken was likely heading towards the pockets of fire they’d been sent to extinguish.

Reaching the narrower section of path, he recognized the place he’d found her the night when she’d heard the rifle shot and come frantically looking for him.

If only she were sitting here now, dazed but safe.

He stood for a moment to listen. The siren sounds had gone, so the fire engines had reached their destination. The upper trees had stopped swaying, giving him hope that the wind had dropped or at least changed direction.

He’d been concerned she was running towards the fire and not away from it.

As for her follower . . . he’d heard no sounds as yet of his pursuit.

Continuing swiftly on, he began to call out her name. Now that the wind had dropped, his cries would carry. If she heard him, she would surely recognize his voice and realize he was coming for her.

He’d reached the big pine, but there was no sign that anyone had been here. This was where he’d raged at her for spying on him at the Party House. How momentously stupid he had been in his fury. Despite that, she hadn’t backed down, hadn’t given up. And she wouldn’t now, he thought.

He began to hope that the reason she wasn’t responding to his shouts was because she’d already emerged near the fire engines and was now safely in the hands of his fellow firefighters.

That was until he heard a distant sound which closely resembled a scream.

Sensing it was coming from the direction of the lochan, possibly the old camp ground, he turned that way. The undergrowth of gorse was thick here among the wider spread of trees.