WHEN SHADOWS FALL
Chapter
1
Leanne Wilson could barely contain her excitement as she looked out of the window of her room at the Cluanie Inn, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. The summer sun was only just emerging over the horizon, painting the sky a vivid crimson. The weather had been stunning all week, and today looked like it was going to be no different.
She picked up her phone, opened the camera and took a selfie, her thumb extended as she grinned widely. She posted the picture on her Facebook page.
Final cuppa before big ascent of A’ Chralaig and Mullach Fraoch-choire.
This would be the seventh and final day of her Munro-bagging holiday in the Highlands of Scotland, and she was looking forward to it hugely. It was a big day of climbing, including a difficult ridgeline, but the weather was looking utterly beautiful again with a forecast of clear skies and light winds. The sunrise was quickly fading, as usual this far north, to be replaced with an ice-blue sky, and just a couple of lenticular clouds that hung like woolly flying saucers.
Her phone beeped with a notification from Facebook. It was David reacting to the post with a heart. A second later a response flashed up.
Have fun, babe.
Leanne frowned and minimised the app, having no intention of reacting to her recently ex-boyfriend. Even now, at 5 a.m., he was trying to get inside her head, which was why she was here, ready to climb two Munros while he was no doubt about to get on a train for a day in London. She shook her head, realising that she was well rid of him; he was a manipulative bastard, and this trip was her way of saying, ‘Fuck you, David. I don’t need you.’
She checked the rucksack she’d packed the night before, as she had done every night on this trip which she’d planned like a military expedition. Then she pulled on her worn and scratched Meindl walking books and laced them up, the leather almost caressing her feet, so perfectly worn in were they. She stood up, feeling a swirl in her head as the blood whooshed.
A final check of her gear and she studied herself in the full-length mirror. In her expensive climbing gear and bandanna-covered honey-blonde hair she looked tanned, lean and fit and much younger than her forty years. ‘All the gear, no idea,’ David would have scoffed. Well, she was showing him, right now. She was out here, on her own and conquering Scotland.
She gave herself a reassuring nod as she passed the mirror, picked up her walking poles, and set off out of the comfortable room, determination coursing through her veins. Then she headed towards the steep incline that led to the summit, over a thousand metres up. Two more Munros, then it would be back down to Glasgow to her new life in her new home away from David. No more sarcastic, sneering boyfriend controlling her every move.
The climb had been brutal. A straight-up slog on a grassy slope at a vicious incline for an unrelenting 750 metres until she hit the ridgeline of A’ Chralaig. As the incline levelled off, she stopped, breathing hard, legs burning, and looked around her. The scenery was just breathtaking. There was no other word for it. A massive vista stretched away in all directions, stark against the cobalt sky. A mix of jagged grey peaks and rolling green hills and glens everywhere she looked. Behind her was the long, thin flash of water of Loch Alsh sparkling as the sun hit its smooth surface. It felt like she was on top of the world. She breathed in deeply, drinking in the clear air that was scented with grass and the faintly organic smell of the soft peat beneath her boots. She was more content than she’d been in many years,
knowing that she was here, on her own, seizing life as a single woman. She needed no man in her life, and certainly not that bastard David. She carried on, picking up her pace on the gentler slope towards the ridgeline, taking in the scenery with a continuing wonder.
A prickle of sweat had broken out on her back, as the early morning sun had now fully cleared the horizon and was beating down with unusual summer warmth for this part of the country. Very soon, she’d ascended the incline that led to the huge cairn of stones that marked the thousand-plus-metre summit of A’ Chralaig.
Breathing heavily, she wiped the film of sweat from her forehead and pulled the cap from her head. She was far too warm. She removed her rucksack, leant it against the cairn and pulled off her jacket, stuffing it inside the pack. She took out the steel insulated water bottle and took a deep draught, relishing the cooling Highland water. Her phone buzzed in her pocket; it was a message from David.
Miss you, hun. Be careful on the hill, you’re not used to the exercise x Leanne frowned, irritation flushing her already pink cheeks at the passive-aggressive message.
‘Fuck you, David,’ she muttered to herself, as she opened the camera app and took another snap of herself, thumb extended with the vast and spectacular scenery behind her, the blue of Loch Carron juxtaposed against the deep green of the lush grass. She’d fucking prove him wrong. Within a second, she’d uploaded the photograph onto her Facebook feed.
Boom! Summit of A’ Chralaig done. Now on to Mullach Fraoch-choire. No stopping this girl!
She pocketed her phone and heaved her rucksack on her back and set off again, turning onto the rocky, precarious ridgeline that snaked towards the distant peak of her next destination. The terrain was severe, sloping steeply away on both sides of her, and she kept to the narrow but firm footpath where thousands of boots had tramped before her.
A speck of blue flashed two hundred metres ahead of her, and she realised she wasn’t alone on the hill, despite how early it was. Her intention had been to experience the solitude of climbing the Munros alone, but it looked like someone had beat her to it. She picked her way along the sharp ridgeline, keeping up a steady pace. Despite the sheer nature of the terrain she was totally relaxed and was thankful that she had absolutely no fear of heights.
The path descended a little, taking her away from the worst of the terrain, which seemed to be almost impassable. As she rounded the corner, she saw a baseball-capped man, wearing mirrored shades and a blue windproof, sitting on a rock on the narrow path. He had a mug in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, a cloud of smoke hanging around him. He didn’t look at her, just stared out at the stunning view that was laid out in front of them.
‘Braw morning,’ he said, raising his tin mug, but still not looking at her.
Leanne smiled. ‘Morning, yes, it’s lovely. Are you local?’
‘Kind of,’ he said, taking a long drag on his cigarette with obvious pleasure, but he still didn’t turn to face her. Leanne wrinkled her nose as the acrid cloud reached her. She hesitated, a niggle of discomfort in her stomach. She’d have to almost squeeze past him as he leant against the jagged stone of the steep ridge.
‘Mind if I pass? It’s a bit tight,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.
‘Aye, dinnae mind me,’ he said, still not turning to face her. He just raised his mug to his mouth, once more. Leanne looked at him a little more closely, as he stared out into the broad vista that seemed to stretch out to the very ends of the planet. He was lean and fitlooking, with tanned and lined skin that spoke of a life outside. She breathed and relaxed a little. He was just like her, another person on the side of a Munro enjoying the sun.
‘Right, best be cracking on then. Still a long way to go,’ said Leanne, moving off. The man smiled and pressed his back against the rock face, flicking the end from his halfsmoked cigarette and tucking it into his chest pocket.
As Leanne approached him, she turned away from the rock face to allow enough room to pass without making contact with the stranger. She had just passed him and was beginning to step up her pace when he spoke again, his voice colder and harder.
‘Mind how you go, Leanne.’
As if shot, Leanne spun to face him. His warm smile was gone, and the sunglasses suddenly made him look more like a predatory insect. What was visible of his face had changed. His expression had morphed from an easy smile to a blank mask, utterly devoid of expression, his lips pursed and jaw firm.
‘H . . . how do you know my name?’ she said, the words catching in her throat, and the blood in her veins suddenly icy.
‘Oh, Leanne. I know more than you can imagine.’ He smiled. Leanne screamed. A piercing shriek that echoed in the vast, open space.