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I had never visited Scotland, or the UK, until the day I found out about Errol Murdoch and his treasure hunting skills. An article in an online magazine had mentioned him, though the story had focused on his cousin Magnus and Piper Lang, the fugitive who had evaded the Scottish bounty hunter for nearly two years. It turned out Piper was innocent, and Errol played an important role in helping to clear her of a murder charge.
But it wasn't the murder that had caught my attention. No, it was the brief mention of Errol and his vocation. He travels the world searching for things no one else can find and solves riddles no one else can solve. I need those skills if I'm ever going to prove the Grand Canyon treasure exists.
The driveway leads through the woods, and a false twilight descends as I steer the car down the gravel two-track. By the time I turn onto the main road, I've completely forgotten about that kiss. Okay, I haven't really forgotten. But I have resolved never to let that man distract me with his amazing talent for kissing, which just might outdo his puzzle-solving prowess. Ten minutes after leaving the castle, I've stopped fantasizing about Errol's lips and switched to thinking about what tactic I should try next to convince Errol to do what I want. The man loves ancient mysteries. Solving them is literally his job. Why does he keep fighting me? I've offered him a ridiculous amount of money and the chance at another adventure. As far as I can tell, he hasn't done much of anything since his escapade with Magnus and Piper. He ought to leap at the chance to dive into another mystery.
Half an hour after leaving Dùndubhan, a name I have trouble pronouncing, I arrive in the village of Loch Fairbairn. It's a lovely place. The people I've met so far have been incredibly kind and welcoming. They treat me like an old friend, even though I've only come here sporadically and always to see Errol Murdoch. Yes, I'm stubborn. But the quest for the Grand Canyon treasure means more to me than anyone could possibly understand. Maybe I should explain it to Errol, but I don't want him to accept my offer because he feels sorry for me.
Maybe I did quit my job so I could keep harassing him. Maybe I'll run out of money soon. But I will not share that information with Errol.
Don't worry, Dad, I'm keeping my eye on the ball.
By the time I walk into my room at the Loch Fairbairn Arms, my tummy is rumbling and I feel a little nauseous from not eating since breakfast. I order room service. While I wait for my meal, I change into sweats and a baggy T-shirt, my favorite outfit for relaxing after a long day. A polite young man delivers my food, and I give him a good tip. Then I dive into my food, wolfing it down a little too fast because I'm so hungry.
Once I've finished eating, I get out my laptop and reread the only piece of information I have about the Grand Canyon treasure—a newspaper article from the turn of the twentieth century. I need more clues. But only Errol can help me find them. What else can I say to convince him? With time running out, I need to do something radical.
I could sneak into his house and strip naked to lie in his bed until he comes home.
No, no, no. I will not give in to lust.
But I am getting a different idea… It's too crazy, though. I know I might be setting myself up for an even more massive failure, and potentially criminal charges for stalking Errol, but I'm just desperate enough to try it. One final push. One last chance. If this doesn't work, I'll slink home with my tail between my legs and get a job at a fast-food restaurant.
Should I do this? No. Will I do it? Well, um…
I change into my street clothes, jeans and a peasant top, then I rush out of the hotel. On my way out, I ask the desk clerk where I can find someone who can help me find a rental property. The gray-haired woman tells me there's an estate agent's office two blocks away. She offers to call a taxi for me, but I don't want to wait. Once I set my mind to something, I need to get it done right away. Besides, a brisk walk clears my head and energizes me for the task ahead.
The estate agent turns out to be a sweet man who can't be more than twenty-five. Despite his youth, he clearly knows the local market. We browse the listings on his computer until I spot one that looks right. The location is perfect, and the house itself seems fine based on the photos the agent shows me. He suggests I should view the house first, but I don't have time for that. So I tell the nice young man that I want to rent the house in question, no walk-through required.
This feels almost like fate.
Half an hour after I walked into the estate agent's office, I have a signed lease agreement and the key to my new home. Why did I choose this house? Location, location, location.
It's directly across the street from Errol Murdoch's house.
That's right. We will be neighbors. Maybe I'm taking stalking to a new level, but it's not like I'm threatening to kill him or trying to plant surveillance devices in his house. I've offered Errol a large retainer if he'll just accept my offer and accompany me on my expedition.
Now he will have no choice but to talk to me.
Never in my life have I gone to such extreme lengths to get what I want. I'm a good girl, the type who never does anything I'm not supposed to do. But I've changed lately. Circumstances have driven me to take desperate action.
Tomorrow, I will move into my new house. This village is lovely. I could picture myself living here permanently. Maybe I should take a little time to explore the area and see more of the Highlands.
No, I don't have time for that.
After a fitful night's sleep, I check out of the Loch Fairbairn Arms and head to the house I've rented. It has no furniture, or anything at all inside it. I spend the remainder of the morning hunting for furniture and kitchen stuff, though I can't afford to fully outfit the house. I'll need to settle for sparse decor and a basic kitchen. The bed isn't super comfortable, but it will do. I can get by without the creature comforts if it helps me convince Errol to go on an expedition with me.
I'm sitting in my new living room, on a used recliner, when movement outside the picture window catches my eye. A man is marching up the concrete walkway of the house across the street—Errol's house. He's home. I watch until he enters the house and shuts the door, then I race over there to ring the bell.
The door swings open, and Errol groans. His shoulders flag. He leans against the jamb, arms hanging loosely at his sides. "What are you doing here, Miss Hartman?"
"Please call me Ashley."
"Why? We aren't mates."
"But we could be." I move a little closer, and the scent of woodsy cologne wafts over me. I've never known him to use any kind of cologne, not in all the months I've pursued this man. "Why don't we sit down and talk? Then maybe you'll feel more comfortable discussing the expedition."
"Leave a body alone, would you? I have things to do."
"Such as?"
