Page 41 of When You're Close

"Where is Alistair now?" Finn questioned, glancing around the surroundings.

Agnes peered outside into the darkening twilight, a hint of hesitation in her voice. "He's where he always is these nights... at the Green Loch."

Amelia squinted into the distance, trying to piece the vague landmarks. "Green Loch?"

Agnes pointed with a trembling finger, her face aging a bit more with the weight of her worries. "Just there, a little way from here. If you look past the tall grass, you'll see it. It's hidden like a gem in the heather. A circle of tall grass hides it, and the water is filled with thick green algae, so it blends into the scenery. You probably wouldn't notice it if you didn't know to look. But ye can see Huldra House from there, and when I was a wee lassie, I was told that my grandfather and the ones before him used the Green Loch to stay in touch with the Huldrufolk. I don't know if it's true, but my son goes out there most nights now, he has done since Lord Carmichael came back to the island. It's there, can ye see it?"

Following her pointed finger, Finn's eyes barely spotted a large green feature that must have been the water, just visible in the dimming light. There was something else too, a faint light bobbing gently, perhaps from a boat in the middle of it. It looked eerily familiar to him.

"Is that him?" Finn asked, pointing towards the light. It reminded him of the strange illumination he'd seen earlier on the moors on the other nights. He wondered if Alistair Logan had been the source of it all along, wandering the island looking for another victim.

Agnes nodded, her gaze affixed on the distant light. "Yes, that's him. He's always there, with that lantern of his. Every time I see it, I pray, hoping he's not doing something he'll regret."

Amelia touched Agnes’s arm gently, offering a measure of comfort. "Go inside, Mrs. Logan. A storm is coming. We'll speak with Alistair. We'll ensure he's safe and that everything is alright."

"Thank you," Agnes whispered, her voice breaking as she retreated into her home, closing the door softly behind her.

Once alone, Finn turned to Amelia, his brow knitted in thought. "That light on the loch, it looks exactly like the one I saw on the moors."

Amelia’s eyes widened slightly. "Do you think Alistair could have been out there all those times? Even during storms?"

"Perhaps," Finn mused, "if he's as obsessed as his mother says, he might have been patrolling the moors, looking for potential threats to the island's traditions. If he came across someone out there, in the dark..."

Amelia completed the thought, "He might have seen them as a threat and attacked. Superstition can sometimes twist the mind into terrible decisions."

Finn adjusted his flashlight, its beam cutting through the descending darkness. "There's only one way to find out. We need to talk to him."

Amelia nodded in agreement as they made their way into uncharted territory towards the dangers of the green loch.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Finn pulled up the collar of his coat, the weather drawing in like a noose.

The two began their descent towards the Green Loch, the grass shifting beneath their feet, their flashlights casting shadows that danced in rhythm with the encroaching night. The light on the loch, Alistair's lantern, beckoned them closer, its glow a dreadful beacon of death.

The impending storm painted the sky with dark streaks of gray, and the previously gentle wind began to roar with fervor. Clouds clustered ominously above, like a troupe of wraiths gathering for a dark assembly. With every step, Finn felt the thickening tension in the air. It had become apparent to him that in the pit of his stomach, the island environment was shaping his thoughts, making him feel more despondent at times. He was beginning to pine for the peace and tranquility of the cottage back in Great Amwell, but he knew once back there, he would have to face Demi, and no doubt an eventual call from America to tell him that the court case now had a date.

"Perfect," Finn muttered, pulling the collar of his coat higher against the wind until it could stretch no more. "We need to find Alistair before this storm gets any worse. I don't like this one bit, Winters."

As they proceeded, their path forked in two directions, encircled by a tall, gnarled tree whose branches seemed to stretch out like skeletal fingers. Amelia hesitated, her gaze darting between the two diverging trails, she turned and looked at Finn with a puzzled expression.

"Which way?" Finn inquired, wiping a stray raindrop from his forehead.

Amelia sighed, her voice barely audible over the strengthening gales. "I don't know. But I'm worried, Finn. If we make the wrong choice and come off the path, we could get lost in the middle of a storm. Hypothermia kicks in faster than most realize."

Just as despair threatened to overtake them, Finn noticed a faint gleam piercing through the veil of tall grass to their left. "There," he pointed. "A light!"

Trusting his instincts, Finn moved in the direction of the light, Amelia close on his heels. Pushing through the dense grass, they felt the sharp blades sting their faces and hands. Suddenly, as if an unseen hand had drawn back a curtain, the scene before them changed dramatically.

The towering grass gave way, revealing the dark expanse of the Green Loch. In stark contrast to its serene name, the water now churned, whipped into a frenzy by the storm's advance. It was like a thick soup of green reeds and algae, writhing together almost as if it were one thing, an amorphous creature, ancient and with a mind far different from that of humanity.

Dead center on the troubled waters was a lone boat. A lantern, swaying violently, was affixed to its prow, its flame dancing madly in the wind. Inside, a hooded figure fought against the onslaught of nature, trying desperately to control the boat.

With each passing moment, the wind blew harder and harder, and before long it was difficult for Finn to hear anything but the roar of nature around him.

"Oh God," Amelia gasped, loudly. "He's not going to make it!"

She was right, and Finn knew it. Even in the dim light and from this distance, they could make out the frantic motions of the hooded figure. The storm was pushing him further into the heart of the loch, and with every passing second, the boat seemed to teeter on the brink of capsizing, bending one way and then another, threatening to capsize and drown its lonely passenger.

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