Hamish gloomily.
“If she’s been hijacked, then whoever took her is right bold,” said Jimmy. “To take her off in broad daylight!”
“Someone was desperate,” said Hamish. “I’ll phone you as soon as I get anything.”
“We’ve got men over at the factory taking statements, finding out where everyone was this morning.”
“Pete Eskdale?”
“Over in Strathbane, drumming up publicity from a local paper.”
“Confirmed by the paper?”
“Aye. Mind you, his appointment was at ten in the morning.”
“What about the boss, Harry Gilchrist?”
“Down in Glasgow.”
“Where?”
“Got him on his mobile. He stayed with a friend. Strathclyde Police are confirming his alibi. He’s on his road back.”
“What about Freda?”
“At her desk all this morning.”
Hamish rang off and went back to searching.
He and Dick drove up to the viewpoint, parked, and got out. A wind sprang up, and the weather of Sutherland went in for one of its mercurial changes. The cloud was blown into grey rags and sent flying off to the east. The blue mountains appeared, range after range of them, stretching into Sutherland. The sun shone down on the purple heather. Rowan trees danced in the brisk wind, their leaves glittering with raindrops. It has been called “the million-dollar view.” Down below lay the inner arm of the Cromarty Firth. Over in the blue distance lay the Kyle of Sutherland.
“This is hopeless,” moaned Dick. “I’m hungry.”
“Let me think,” said Hamish. “Whoever took her was in a panic. So he wouldn’t go in for anything elaborate. He’d kill her and toss the body out by the road. We’d better keep looking.”
To Dick’s horror, Hamish said they should start going along the road on foot. “I’m tired,” he wailed. “My legs won’t take it.”
“You should lose weight,” said Hamish heartlessly. “Oh, take a seat in the car. I’ll go myself.”
Hamish trudged slowly along, looking to left and right.
The road began to descend. He stopped and stared around. She could be anywhere. Why had he thought of the Struie Pass? Because there’s a bit of a murderer in all of us, he thought, and it’s where I would have got rid of her.
At a hairpin bend in the road, he noticed a stand of silver birch and, at the base of the trees, uprooted piles of heather.
He walked over and tugged away the heather. Hannah’s white face stared up at him. He bent down and felt for a pulse. It was there, but very faint. He phoned Dick and howled for the Land Rover to be brought down the pass. He phoned for a rescue helicopter, shouting that any long delay could kill her.
He then knelt down in the heather and began to apply the kiss of life. The pulse grew slightly stronger. Dick drove up. “Oh, michty me!” he cried. “Is she dead?”
“Nearly,” said Hamish. “Where’s that damn helicopter.”
“I hear it!” said Dick. “Coming from ower there.”
The helicopter landed on the road. Paramedics rushed to Hannah and put an oxygen mask over her mouth before lifting her on board. “I’ll go with her,” said Hamish. “Phone headquarters and say she’s been found.”
Hamish was joined in Strathbane Hospital by Jimmy and Blair. Blair tried to send Hamish away, but Jimmy protested. “He found the lassie. If she recovers, he’ll be the first person she’ll want to talk to.”
The day wore on as the news of the discovery of Hannah Fleming went out over the airwaves.
Someone, it seemed, had tried to strangle her. Eventually a doctor joined them. “It looks as if she will recover,” he said. “But no one is to interview her at the moment. She’s still barely conscious.”
“I’m hungry,” said Jimmy. “Let’s go to the canteen and get something, Hamish.
“I’m off,” said Blair. “Phone me as soon as she’s ready to speak.”
After they had eaten, Hamish and Jimmy went back downstairs. They sent for the doctor they had seen earlier. “She has recovered consciousness,”
“If she’s been hijacked, then whoever took her is right bold,” said Jimmy. “To take her off in broad daylight!”
“Someone was desperate,” said Hamish. “I’ll phone you as soon as I get anything.”
“We’ve got men over at the factory taking statements, finding out where everyone was this morning.”
“Pete Eskdale?”
“Over in Strathbane, drumming up publicity from a local paper.”
“Confirmed by the paper?”
“Aye. Mind you, his appointment was at ten in the morning.”
“What about the boss, Harry Gilchrist?”
“Down in Glasgow.”
“Where?”
“Got him on his mobile. He stayed with a friend. Strathclyde Police are confirming his alibi. He’s on his road back.”
“What about Freda?”
“At her desk all this morning.”
Hamish rang off and went back to searching.
He and Dick drove up to the viewpoint, parked, and got out. A wind sprang up, and the weather of Sutherland went in for one of its mercurial changes. The cloud was blown into grey rags and sent flying off to the east. The blue mountains appeared, range after range of them, stretching into Sutherland. The sun shone down on the purple heather. Rowan trees danced in the brisk wind, their leaves glittering with raindrops. It has been called “the million-dollar view.” Down below lay the inner arm of the Cromarty Firth. Over in the blue distance lay the Kyle of Sutherland.
“This is hopeless,” moaned Dick. “I’m hungry.”
“Let me think,” said Hamish. “Whoever took her was in a panic. So he wouldn’t go in for anything elaborate. He’d kill her and toss the body out by the road. We’d better keep looking.”
To Dick’s horror, Hamish said they should start going along the road on foot. “I’m tired,” he wailed. “My legs won’t take it.”
“You should lose weight,” said Hamish heartlessly. “Oh, take a seat in the car. I’ll go myself.”
Hamish trudged slowly along, looking to left and right.
The road began to descend. He stopped and stared around. She could be anywhere. Why had he thought of the Struie Pass? Because there’s a bit of a murderer in all of us, he thought, and it’s where I would have got rid of her.
At a hairpin bend in the road, he noticed a stand of silver birch and, at the base of the trees, uprooted piles of heather.
He walked over and tugged away the heather. Hannah’s white face stared up at him. He bent down and felt for a pulse. It was there, but very faint. He phoned Dick and howled for the Land Rover to be brought down the pass. He phoned for a rescue helicopter, shouting that any long delay could kill her.
He then knelt down in the heather and began to apply the kiss of life. The pulse grew slightly stronger. Dick drove up. “Oh, michty me!” he cried. “Is she dead?”
“Nearly,” said Hamish. “Where’s that damn helicopter.”
“I hear it!” said Dick. “Coming from ower there.”
The helicopter landed on the road. Paramedics rushed to Hannah and put an oxygen mask over her mouth before lifting her on board. “I’ll go with her,” said Hamish. “Phone headquarters and say she’s been found.”
Hamish was joined in Strathbane Hospital by Jimmy and Blair. Blair tried to send Hamish away, but Jimmy protested. “He found the lassie. If she recovers, he’ll be the first person she’ll want to talk to.”
The day wore on as the news of the discovery of Hannah Fleming went out over the airwaves.
Someone, it seemed, had tried to strangle her. Eventually a doctor joined them. “It looks as if she will recover,” he said. “But no one is to interview her at the moment. She’s still barely conscious.”
“I’m hungry,” said Jimmy. “Let’s go to the canteen and get something, Hamish.
“I’m off,” said Blair. “Phone me as soon as she’s ready to speak.”
After they had eaten, Hamish and Jimmy went back downstairs. They sent for the doctor they had seen earlier. “She has recovered consciousness,”
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