And there it was. The thing he’d feared from the moment he’d seen her standing there. He realized it was the last outcome he wanted, despite everything that had happened and what might yet happen.

‘I don’t want you to go.’

She considered that for a moment, then her expression softened. ‘I passed our tree,’ she said. ‘At least I think I did, but the leather straps were gone.’

‘I hung them there for your arrival,’ he told her. ‘Maybe better that we choose another tree until further notice.’

When she smiled, he felt his heart lift. At another time, he would have taken her there and then, and by the way she was reacting, she felt the same.

The animal attraction was still strong, he decided, maybe even stronger than before. Was that caused by being so close to death?

He eased away from her.

‘There’s a ceilidh in the village hall tomorrow night. It’s the first gathering since we got the all-clear on the virus. I’m not sure if it’ll go ahead now. If it does, I’m on behind the bar with Caroline. Will you come?’

He watched as she mulled this over, sensing his mention of Caroline might tip the balance, which it was intended to do.

‘Of course I will.’ She planted a kiss on his lips.

The buzz of an incoming text stopped him responding.

He glanced at the screen. ‘I have to report to the big house.’

‘Then I’ll head back to Beanach.’

‘I should be home by five,’ he promised.

He waited for her to disappear along the track before he took the shorter route to Ard Choille. His anger at finding her there in the woods had dissipated but it was clear they’d both revealed aspects of themselves, kept hidden up to now.

It would have been wiser to encourage her to leave Blackrig. Especially now that the body had been discovered. Things could only get worse. For him and every male that had been in Blackrig the night she disappeared.

Because the face he’d seen last night had been Ailsa, and he had no doubt the forensic examination would confirm her identity soon enough.

Then it would all start up again. The nightmare of five years ago. The suspicions and the gossip. Blackrig torn apart by accusations. Both founded and unfounded.

Emerging from the trees, he passed the forensic tent. According to Harry, they could be in there for the next twenty-four hours. Excavating the body, forensically examining it in situ, before it was taken away to the mortuary for further examination.

‘The killer will have left his mark,’ Harry had said solemnly. ‘And they’ll find it.’

Greg avoided glancing in as the tent flap was drawn aside for someone to exit.