When Eyes Don't Lie

Who is the most criminal of them all?

Aileen Mackinnon is still reeling from the murders that gripped her inn few months ago. But when a light flickers in the middle of nowhere, she sets out to help the lost people. When she finds a dangling corpse instead, Aileen is horrified. What was the former innkeeper doing at that cottage?

The police rule the death a suicide, but Detective Inspector Callan Cameron has some unanswered questions.

As Aileen and Callan dip their toes into the inky darkness of vicious streets, they step into a world of greed, deceit and murder.

When uncovering every answer is like taunting death, can they figure out whodunnit?

On Callan’s rap at the window, Aileen almost flew out of her seat, hands pressed over her chest. At least they’d been partly restored to a more humanlike colour.
Callan wanted to draw those small hands into his larger ones and warm them up, warm her up.
Shut up!
Aileen painted a scowl on her face and rolled down the window. Ah, here goes the feisty bomb. ‘Can’t you be gentle?’
‘It was only a knock.’ Callan smirked, knowing it would irk Aileen. Anything to get some colour back into her face and a twinkle in her eyes.
‘What do you want?’ She snapped, although a little feebly.
Callan had found great joy in annoying the heck out of Aileen from the first time they’d met. Since that fateful encounter, she’d always had her hackles up around him. He found it rather endearing.
And now it worked, getting that flush into her cheeks again. ‘Why did ye think taking a nightly walk would be a great idea in this fantastic weather?’
Tufts of white smoke wafted out of her mouth as she huffed like a child throwing a tantrum. ‘I was trying to help! I saw the light, came down here.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.
‘It’s quite a distance.’ Callan squinted at his watch. ‘About fifteen minutes from the inn, considering the uneven land.’
Aileen explained her theory that it had to be young lads messing about. ‘I just wanted to caution them. It’s not the best place or weather to be… Not in your senses.’
And if the killer had been around? Callan let that thought go. It was not something he wanted to be thinking about. He glanced over his shoulder at the cottage. He’d pulled the splintered, creaky door shut behind him. But the scene was hard to forget. Suicide, this didn’t seem like.
The lonely Scottish wilderness was a rather unusual place to kill oneself. But he narrowed his eyes. Best not to draw conclusions yet.
The medic team came, drenching the dark landscape in dancing red, white, and blue lights. Their shrill sirens joined the raging weather.
Aileen’s unblinking gaze followed him as he spoke with the detective inspector from Loch Heaven.
Callan sauntered over and sat beside her in the car, thawing his sniffing nose and rubbing his hands together. It was about to be a long night.
Aileen shivered, clearly uncomfortable in her damp clothes.
‘I’ll drive ye back. Do ye need me to call anyone? Isla?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve seen death before.’ Was she convincing herself or him?
The death she had come across had been in the bright morning light. ‘Ye didn’t discover those bodies alone.’ Callan pointed out.
The car bumped down the Highland roads, its headlights barely a match for the heavy darkness.
Revenge, that’s what nature was after. As if in a desperate attempt to seek vengeance against the atrocities inflicted by humankind, thunder struck, rain pelted with rage, and the wind spared not even the verdant trees.
Under the hateful dark clouds, the former gleeful highland landscape in the North-Western region of Scotland stretched around a lonesome century-old stone inn.
The white stone bricks and pastel blue window frames could remind a passerby of better, drier times. A warm glow from within the house reminded one of home. And Dachaigh was home to Ms Aileen Mackinnon.
Callan helped Aileen inside the inn, his hands placed onto the back of her damp coat. He didn’t know what to say. Emotions had never been his forte. Especially around Aileen.
Based on her slouched figure, the innkeeper was ready to bawl her eyes out. That calm demeanour he had come across vanished, replaced by a vulnerable woman.
She ferociously bit into her tender lips. ‘Who… Who was she?’
‘I don’t officially know.’ Callan replied softly.
Watery brown orbs met his. ‘Unofficially?’
Callan sighed. ‘Marley Watson.’
Aileen gasped and gaped at him. ‘The former innkeeper?’
Without permission, his hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
Aileen faced him, her bottom lip quivering. Instead of giving in to the tears fast pooling in her eyes, she nodded. ‘Thank you for getting there so quickly.’
Clearing his throat, Callan tugged at his coat. ‘It’s my job.’
The back of his neck prickled. It was his job to protect people. He had sworn by it. But with Aileen? It was different.
He better get out of here before he made an utter fool of himself.
Briskly, he bid farewell.
What had he been thinking, touching her? Eejit!