Snow started falling more quickly, the wind whipping up and whistling round the yard. Strands of her hair were blowing around her face, and her now wet skirt was slapping around the top of her wellies but she was too fired up with adrenalin to notice the cold.

‘I’ll turn the car so the headlights are shining in this direction.’

Nick went to head back, stopping when Brogan said, ‘No need. I’ve found my keys.’ She flicked on the torch and shone its beam around the cluttered space, strewn with thick, dusty cobwebs, revealing the contents scattered about haphazardly. It was full of years’ worth of items her grandparents had hoarded and something she’d intended to tackle once she’d felt able to face it, but in this state of disarray, it was difficult to tell if anything was missing. She felt nausea curdle in her stomach.

‘Shit!’ said Nick. ‘Has anything gone?

‘I don’t know.’ The cold was beginning to bite and her teeth started chattering.

After a quick check around the other outbuildings, Brogan discovered her bike was missing from one of the unsecured sheds, along with an ancient lawnmower, not that they were worth much, but that wasn’t the point. The mere thought that someone had crept about her things felt like a violation. It sent a shiver running up her spine.

‘At least the Landie’s still there,’ she said when they’d finished checking the outbuildings. ‘But they’d have been hard-pushed to move it with the fuel tank being empty.’

‘Well, that’s something at least,’ said Nick.

‘I’ll go in first,’ he said when they reached the porch door of the cottage. Wilf and Maudie were still barking frantically from the kitchen. Brogan tried to protest, but Nick wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’m sure they’re long gone, and it was them in the van that nearly ran us off the road, but just in case,’ he said, his tone suggesting he’d brook no argument. Reluctantly, she handed him her keys.

The door gave its familiar groan as he pushed it open. Brogan tensed. Growling and snarling now joined the barking from the dogs. They sounded quite terrifying, nothing like the soft pair she was used to. With her heart hammering against her ribcage and her legs shaking with fear, she held her breath as Nick placed the key in the lock of the kitchen door. Slowly, he turned it with a click before nudging it open a crack, allowing the dogs to pick up their scent. ‘It’s okay, Maudie, Wilf, it’s just us,’ he said.

‘Wilf, everything’s all right,’ Brogan said. In a moment, the barking had ceased.

Once safely inside, Maudie and Wilf trotted about them, whimpering and nudging at their legs. They were visibly stressed by events. ‘This isn’t like Wilf at all, he’s usually pleased to see me and eager for a tummy tickle when I get back, but this wound-up behaviour is unusual for him.’ Brogan did her best to soothe the Labrador who remained twitchy, constantly glancing over at the window.

‘Yeah, they’re clearly agitated.’ Nick went to calm Maudie, speaking in a soothing tone which helped a little, though she was still looking around, uncertain.

Satisfied that Maudie was all right, Nick said, ‘Listen, if you don’t mind, I’ll just go and have a check around, make sure everything’s okay.’

‘Yeah, that’s fine.’ His words made her start, the suggestion that something might be amiss inside the cottage didn’t sit easy with her.

The sound of her phone vibrating in her bag caught Brogan’s attention. She’d put it on silent while she’d been at the party. She headed over to the dresser where she’d dumped it when she came in, the thought that it was late to be calling someone crossing her mind. By the time she’d fished it out of her bag it had stopped ringing. ‘Typical.’ She glanced at the screen, a deep frown crumpling her brow as she took in the tranche of missed calls. ‘Oh no…’ They were all from Bert. Bert who barely used his phone. Tapping on the screen, she saw that amongst the missed calls were a couple of voicemail notifications. Her stomach lurched. Brogan had a bad feeling about this.

She was listening to the messages when Nick came back into the room.

‘Everything’s fine, I didn’t noti—’ He stopped when he saw she had her phone pressed to her ear.

‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! It’s Bert!’ Fighting back tears, Brogan ended the call and pushed the phone into her coat pocket. She clamped her hand over her mouth, biting down on the emotions that were swamping her. It had been a long time since she’d felt so utterly distraught. Doing all she could to keep her voice steady, she drew in a fortifying breath. ‘Nick, we need to get to Bert’s. They’ve been round at his cottage. Nell’s gone. We’ve got to help him.’

36

BROGAN

The distress in the elderly man’s voice had been heart breaking, and wasn’t helped by the fact that he’d been struggling to speak thanks to his wheezing and coughing.

Nick stood before her, his face wrought with concern. ‘Right, you need to get something warmer on, that dress won’t do, the weather’s getting worse out there.’

‘There isn’t time.’

‘There is, it’ll only take a couple of minutes to put a pair of jeans and a jumper on; you don’t even have to take your dress off, just pull them over the top. Be sure to put some warm socks on too.’

She went to object again, but he said, ‘You’ll be no good to Bert if you’re too cold to help him.’

She knew he was right. ‘Okay.’ With that she raced upstairs and flew into her bedroom, pulling on the clothes with lightning speed.

As Nick drove, Brogan couldn’t get the distress in Bert’s voice out of her head. She called his number several times to let him know they were on their way, but it just rang out, sending a spike of anxiety shooting up her. She dragged her hand down her face, aware of her pulse throbbing in her neck. Why wasn’t he picking up?

Nick stole a look at her. ‘It’ll be okay. It’s not that long since he left the message. We’ll be with him in a matter of minutes.’

Much as she was grateful of it, his words of reassurance didn’t make things any easier. As far as Brogan was concerned, they couldn’t get to Broad View Cottage quickly enough. But they couldn’t go any faster due to the wintry conditions on the roads; she had all on to stop herself from getting out and running across the fields to Bert’s cottage.