ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) by Faith Mortimer Page B
Authors: Faith Mortimer
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it.”
“I’ll cut you off a segment to take home too. You can have it later on.”
Cassandra was about to object when she caught Elizabeth’s eye and the almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”
“You know, you have a look of her about you,” she said, switching tack without warning.
Cassandra stared for a second before realising what Lorna was talking about. “Oh, you mean Susan, my sister?”
Lorna nodded, her head bobbing about like a cork in water, her black eyes bright and feverish. “Are you a sculptor, too? Is that the right word, Elizabeth?” she turned to her sister with a frown.
“I believe so.”
“No. I’m a photographer. I can’t paint or draw or make things out of clay. I tried it once, but my pot always slid off the potter’s wheel long before it resembled anything.”
“Shame. It’s funny I would have assumed art ran in families, though I suppose photography is a form. I just remembered, we have a picture of Susan’s. I don’t think she painted many, but she did one for us.” Lorna rushed to the other side of the room, returning a few seconds later holding a framed picture measuring about two feet by one.
“Look! Isn’t this beautiful?”
Cassandra looked and indeed it was. In fact, it was unbearably beautiful. After seeing Susan’s small animal sculptures, she guessed the standard of her work was high, but she was unprepared for this. The picture was of a child, a boy sitting on a moss-covered rock with swirls of mist behind him. It was the boy’s eyes which held Cassandra’s attention. They were huge and violet-coloured, perfectly matching the tufts of heather growing at his feet. A basket of toys lay beside him, and it was this which held the clue. The boy was about ten years old, but the toys were for a much younger child. Should there have been another child playing alongside the boy in the heather? It was a mystery, and Cassandra knew it was one she couldn’t ask without upsetting Lorna.
Lorna sniffed and looked at Cassandra. “Susan hadn’t been well because of the flu, and Beth and I kept her supplied with food. She painted the picture as a thank you. It’s one of my most prized possessions, especially since Susan rarely painted anything. She said she much preferred to work on a sculpture of some sort.”
Cassandra felt Elizabeth’s eyes upon her, and she wondered if the picture reminded poor pathetic Lorna of the child she lost. She was curious to know about the boy, but something told her she should keep quiet on the subject.
She knew that when Angus escorted her to Susan’s exhibition, she would have to get him to tell her everything he remembered about her sister. For the first time, she felt Susan was reaching out, and she was on the brink of knowing her.
Chapter 16 January 2013, Inverdarroch
As she walked home, not only was Cassandra aware Elizabeth and Lorna were watching her departure from behind their net curtains, but she was sure several other hostile stares were following her. Out of the corner of her eye she looked for tell-tale twitching curtains or vague reflections on the glass. She suppressed a shudder…she never considered herself a dramatic person, but she couldn’t rid the feeling that her every move was being watched…ever since she had arrived, in fact. It was odd and unsettling; why was she being watched? She shrugged off the thoughts, thinking it was to be expected in a small, insular village.
Back at the cottage, she glanced at her watch, resolving not to be idle. There were still a few good daylight hours left to get on with her walls. She changed into some old jeans and a pair of tatty trainers to match, before tying her hair back with a band.
Sorting out some brushes and a paint roller she looked round for the paint and remembered she had left the can in the shed. Cassandra went back outside, pushed open the door, and gasped in horror. Wherever she looked, every wall and surface was
“I’ll cut you off a segment to take home too. You can have it later on.”
Cassandra was about to object when she caught Elizabeth’s eye and the almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”
“You know, you have a look of her about you,” she said, switching tack without warning.
Cassandra stared for a second before realising what Lorna was talking about. “Oh, you mean Susan, my sister?”
Lorna nodded, her head bobbing about like a cork in water, her black eyes bright and feverish. “Are you a sculptor, too? Is that the right word, Elizabeth?” she turned to her sister with a frown.
“I believe so.”
“No. I’m a photographer. I can’t paint or draw or make things out of clay. I tried it once, but my pot always slid off the potter’s wheel long before it resembled anything.”
“Shame. It’s funny I would have assumed art ran in families, though I suppose photography is a form. I just remembered, we have a picture of Susan’s. I don’t think she painted many, but she did one for us.” Lorna rushed to the other side of the room, returning a few seconds later holding a framed picture measuring about two feet by one.
“Look! Isn’t this beautiful?”
Cassandra looked and indeed it was. In fact, it was unbearably beautiful. After seeing Susan’s small animal sculptures, she guessed the standard of her work was high, but she was unprepared for this. The picture was of a child, a boy sitting on a moss-covered rock with swirls of mist behind him. It was the boy’s eyes which held Cassandra’s attention. They were huge and violet-coloured, perfectly matching the tufts of heather growing at his feet. A basket of toys lay beside him, and it was this which held the clue. The boy was about ten years old, but the toys were for a much younger child. Should there have been another child playing alongside the boy in the heather? It was a mystery, and Cassandra knew it was one she couldn’t ask without upsetting Lorna.
Lorna sniffed and looked at Cassandra. “Susan hadn’t been well because of the flu, and Beth and I kept her supplied with food. She painted the picture as a thank you. It’s one of my most prized possessions, especially since Susan rarely painted anything. She said she much preferred to work on a sculpture of some sort.”
Cassandra felt Elizabeth’s eyes upon her, and she wondered if the picture reminded poor pathetic Lorna of the child she lost. She was curious to know about the boy, but something told her she should keep quiet on the subject.
She knew that when Angus escorted her to Susan’s exhibition, she would have to get him to tell her everything he remembered about her sister. For the first time, she felt Susan was reaching out, and she was on the brink of knowing her.
Chapter 16 January 2013, Inverdarroch
As she walked home, not only was Cassandra aware Elizabeth and Lorna were watching her departure from behind their net curtains, but she was sure several other hostile stares were following her. Out of the corner of her eye she looked for tell-tale twitching curtains or vague reflections on the glass. She suppressed a shudder…she never considered herself a dramatic person, but she couldn’t rid the feeling that her every move was being watched…ever since she had arrived, in fact. It was odd and unsettling; why was she being watched? She shrugged off the thoughts, thinking it was to be expected in a small, insular village.
Back at the cottage, she glanced at her watch, resolving not to be idle. There were still a few good daylight hours left to get on with her walls. She changed into some old jeans and a pair of tatty trainers to match, before tying her hair back with a band.
Sorting out some brushes and a paint roller she looked round for the paint and remembered she had left the can in the shed. Cassandra went back outside, pushed open the door, and gasped in horror. Wherever she looked, every wall and surface was
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