As he watched, a figure appeared beside them. Adjusting the telescope, he saw that it was Aidan Stratton, but he was approaching the nearby trees, not the women.

At that moment a figure came from the woods to meet him. Shielded by Stratton, Greg couldn’t make out if the person was male or female. Colin sprang to mind, but having released him from duty before his own visit to Ard Choille, Greg couldn’t imagine Colin going back there of his own free will.

As Stratton stepped aside to gesture to the lochside ladies, he realized the figure was that of a woman. But who?

Intuition told him who it was before he could adjust the lens enough to see for himself.

‘What the hell?’ Greg said out loud. Why the fuck was Joanne there and talking to that bastard?

Immediately an ugly thought reared its head. She already knew Stratton. After all, she’d written pieces for The Field magazine, which was why she was at the event where they’d met. If that was true, she definitely hadn’t mentioned it when he’d revealed Stratton’s name and connection with the Party House.

Why was she back at Ard Choille anyway? Was this meeting with Stratton merely an accident or – my God – prearranged?

Totally thrown by this interpretation of what he was watching, Greg found himself wondering why Joanne had really chosen to visit him here in Blackrig, and at this precise moment in time.

Perhaps because she’d known that Stratton and his party were going to be at Ard Choille?

Then the biggest and most obvious answer to all such questions presented itself.

Joanne had set him up for all of this. Toyed with him to get the invite here, which he’d blurted out in a post-coital moment.

Employed by Stratton, she’d come here to write a piece about the estate, the village and the Party House. Maybe even about him, the head keeper.

His mind racing, he realized that would explain her interest and her questions about the estate, about himself, about the Party House and, of course, the disappearance of Ailsa. My God, the discovery of Ailsa’s body must have seemed like a gift. No wonder Stratton was so intent on staying.

Rage grew to swamp him again. How could he face her after this?

He couldn’t. Not immediately anyway. He would go back to the village and eat at the pub to avoid her. If she called his mobile, he would say things got rushed and he’d had to go and help Malcolm.

But what about when she turned up at the ceilidh?

Maybe by then he would have decided what to say or do, if anything.

Joanne

Finally escaping the insufferable Aidan, she headed back to Beanach, cursing herself for getting close enough to be seen.

How could she have been so stupid? So careless?