Love on Loch Ness (20 page)

After checking to make sure no one drove by and saw him enter the woods, Flynn parked the car and shut off the engine. Although he didn't like leaving Tabitha so soon, he needed to collect the cameras before a local hiker stumbled upon them and decided to make a pretty penny, or worse yet, take the credit.

With a sense of urgency prickling the hairs on the back of his neck, Flynn grabbed his backpack and stepped out into the moist morning air. He hadn't slept a wink, yet vigilance brimmed in every nerve. Adrenaline from the night before still shot through his body. Tom had tried to kill him, and Flynn had come a scale's breadth from his own end. He still grappled with why Nessie had chosen Tom.

It could be my blood flowing in Loch Ness.

The morning mist rolling off the highlands gave the forest a still, haunting ambiance. Flynn followed their tracks to the hill Gail had chosen with Blarney as Nessie's last foray before hibernation. Below, calm waves licked the empty rocks, belying the scene from hours before. A jolt of shock zapped him in the heart as he remembered Tabitha's fall into the murky water.

As if he'd ever forget that horrific scene. His soul had died in that moment, and he'd had to resuscitate it as had Gail resuscitated Tabitha on the bank. Losing Tabitha had been his greatest fear ever since she'd gotten sick.

Don't think about it.
Tabitha was safe in Raigmore, recovering from both the harpoon wound and all the nasty treatments for her tumors. Right now he needed to find those cameras.

Flynn identified the place where Tom had stationed himself on the hill. The ill-mannered sportsman had strewn candy wrappers and ginger ale cans in the leaves. He must have had a supply in his equipment bags, along with the harpoon. Above the mess, a camera was taped to a tree branch.

Bingo.

He climbed the tree and reached for the camera, making sure not to damage the lens as he cut the tape with his pocketknife. Holding the camera under his arm, he climbed down. Thank the digital gods Tom had enough sense to put the camera on a timer, or it would have run all night and lost its battery, and then he would've had to wait until he got home to see what it had recorded.

This was it, the moment of truth. Flynn paused before turning the camera on. Could he stomach watching the harpoon strike Tabitha again?

The memory was already burned into his mind. What more harm could it do? He sighed, leaning against the tree. He owed it to all of the work Gail and Blarney had done to get this video. Sooner or later, he'd have to see the recording if they were ever going to report their discovery to L-PIB.

Flynn pressed the button.

The familiar scene of the moonlit lake popped up in the viewing screen, along with a few daytime screen frames Tom had taken before Gail had found the hoax equipment. There was even a haunting picture of the late Tom grinning along with two blonde ladies on either arm at a bar. He clicked on the image of the lake at night and held his breath.

The water was glassy and still. Flynn reminded himself of how long they'd waited in that tent for anything to happen. He fast-forwarded to three hours in.

Still nothing. Flynn sat down on a log and waited, not wanting to fast forward past the events and have to rewind.

A sliver of movement stirred on the surface. Flynn brought the camera closer.

A loon took off from the water.

Blast it.
Flynn ran his hand through his hair. The torture of waiting was almost as agonizing as sitting in that tent last night. His finger moved to press fast forward.

The surface of the water bubbled with movement. Flynn zoomed in and a fish leapt toward shore. Then another and another.

This was it.

He froze, feeling he was watching a horror movie where he already knew the gruesome end. Would it capture Nessie dragging Tom under as well? Even if it did, wild horses couldn't tear his eyes away.

The wave pattern changed as Nessie drew close to the shore.

Here she comes.

The screen turned to white static.

"For crying out loud, no!" Flynn shook the camera.
What a time to go out!

He rewound the footage and hit replay. At the exact same moment, static flickered on.

Blast it.

He checked the battery, but the green light said it was charged. Was it like this for the rest of the night?

He fast-forwarded to more static, and more after that.
It just keeps going like the
Titanic
movie.
Blast it again
.

Flynn dropped the camera and buried his face in his hands.
The other cameras!
Surely one of them had to have worked.

He bolted to his feet and threw himself down the hill. Searching the treetops, he didn't watch his footing. Something tripped him and Flynn fell face-first into the mossy ground.

Great. I'm a bigger danger to myself than Nessie was.

He picked his head up. Another camera was on a tree branch hovering over the lake.

Flynn sprinted into action and scrambled up the tree. His fingers shook as he cut the tape and gingerly brought the camera down, praying to the video gods. Tom must have blatantly offended them, along with everyone else in the whole world, Nessie included.

He fast-forwarded to the same point and hit play. The loon took off, the fish bubbled up, then…

Static.

Flynn checked every camera Tom had taped up. They all told the same edge-of-your-seat cliffhanger.

Had this been Tom's doing? Had he wanted to keep his illegal hunting private? No. While they'd waited to talk to Tabitha after the operation, Gail had told him about Tom's illegal pursuits and hideous trophies. Sports fishermen were all about showing pictures of their catches. Tom would want his conquest advertised on every station and Nessie's yellow-eyed head mounted on his wall.

Had the interference been caused by the electromagnetic energy? That was what Blarney would say. No matter what had caused the cameras to freak out, they didn't have enough of a video to convince even the most ardent believer. The only evidence they had left was the tooth and scale.

Blast it.
With everything going on, Flynn hadn't thought to move his belongings — and the evidence — from the cabin L-PIB had inconveniently repossessed.

Flynn packed the cameras in his backpack and ran through the woods to his car, which sat untouched on the side of the road. He unlocked the door with his remote key and threw the equipment in the back.

Sorry, Tom. No time.
It wasn't as if he was going to use the cameras again, anyway.

Deciding he'd had enough morbid thoughts for the day, Flynn jumped in and sped toward the cabin.

What if L-PIB had already come by? Would they have searched for evidence? If, by some freak accident, they'd stumbled upon the tooth and scale in his top dresser drawer underneath his boxers, would they have confiscated them to store along with the hoax equipment?

He certainly hoped not.

Flynn parked near the dock and ran up the hill. The cabin remained untouched, as if he, Gail, Blarney, and Tom would all be coming back for dinner later on.

Like that was going to happen anytime soon.

He tried the key, and the door opened. At least they hadn't changed the locks yet.

Flynn walked inside and his stomach sank. The hallway closet was open and all the boxes had been removed, along with the microscope Gail had used the other day. L-PIB had been here, but had they checked his room?

Flynn took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top, his eyes wandered to Gail's empty room, where she'd said good-bye. Thank Cupid he'd found a way to win her back.

He paused as he passed Tom's room. The door was slightly ajar. Tom's messy floor with all his dirty clothes came into view, along with more ginger ale cans. A shiver crept up his spine. He believed in the Loch Ness monster, so ghosts weren't all that different.

Why don't I leave that mess for L-PIB?

Flynn opened the door to his room and walked straight to his top drawer. The drawer caught as he opened it, like it always did. He yanked the wood harder, and opened the drawer all the way.

His plaid boxers were right where he'd left them. Breathing a sigh of relief, Flynn moved them. The hand-carved wooden box Tabitha had given him the previous Christmas sat at the bottom of the drawer. He picked the box up and smoothed his fingers over the pattern of a mermaid with a hundred small fish swimming in her hair. He popped the top off.

Empty.

Curse L-PIB and their thorough recovery skills.

He searched the entire drawer, just in case the box magically decided to open and the contents had spilled out into his white T-shirts.

Nothing.

Flynn collapsed on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

They had nothing but Gail's sonar recordings to prove the existence of Nessie, which was just about the same amount of evidence everyone else found every twenty years or so. Just enough to keep people interested, but not enough to prove anything.

Drat
.

Why had L-PIB insisted on taking all their evidence?

A vague memory of a conversation surfaced from when he'd been a boy. Two men in suits talking on the prow of a boat about how "they" would never let something get out. Hadn't they said something about confiscating the evidence?

It was too long ago for Flynn to remember, and he had been too young at the time to truly understand their conversation. They could have been talking about a crime show on the telly for all he knew. That didn't stop him from wondering if someone at L-PIB did
not
want Nessie to be found.

Why?

Tom's harpoon came to mind. Tom was gone, but there would always be others like him. Not to mention the press and all the scientists wanting to poke holes in Nessie's body and run tests. Maybe that "someone" at L-PIB did believe. Not only that, but what if the someone loved Nessie to the point of assembling research teams and then tampering with their evidence?

Perhaps keeping Nessie a secret was the right thing to do.

For the first time in his life, Flynn let go. He had better things to do than sit in an empty cabin and lament the loss of evidence. Tabitha and Gail were waiting.

Captain for Hire

Golden sunlight shone on the rolling hills in front of Urquhart Castle. Gail spread the picnic blanket and Flynn set their basket of sandwiches and wine on the grass.

"Look! Fresh meat." Tabitha pointed to a tour group getting off a bus by the castle. She ran a hand over her shaved head. Since her hair was going to grow back, she had wanted it all to be the same length, so Gail had helped her take the plunge. It had been a nice girly moment, and Gail had always wanted a younger sister. Even if she had a potty mouth.

"There's a nice-looking teen boy down there." Flynn winked at Tabitha. "Why don't you go say hi?"

"No offense—" she glanced at Gail, "—but I don't date Americans."

"Who says he's American?" Gail opened the basket and brought out a plastic bag full of grapes. Were they
that
easy to spot?

"Look at his Justin Bieber haircut and poofy sneakers." She gave Gail a pained expression. "
So
American."

"You do have to admit he's pretty cute." Flynn popped a grape in his mouth and grinned.

Tabitha sighed. She'd already gained a few pounds, and her chubbier cheeks made her face even prettier. "You just want to get rid of me so you can make out with Gail."

Flynn shook an admonishing finger. "That's not true." He made a teasing face. "You're just afraid he doesn't dig baldies."

Gail almost choked on a grape. That had been a little harsh. "I think the shaved head brings out your green eyes and makes you look tough, like Natalie Portman in
V for Vendetta
."

Tabitha shrugged, but her lips curled as if she took it as a compliment. "Fine." She stood and brushed off her jeans. "No kissing while I'm down there, okay? You've embarrassed me enough today."

Flynn crossed his chest with his fingertip. "Cross my heart."

"But don't hope to die." Tabitha waved him away and started down the hill. "I've had enough of that already."

"Man, she's a handful." Gail handed Flynn his sandwich and they watched her strike up a conversation with the boy as he leaned on the side of the tour bus.

Gail had made the sandwich just the way Flynn liked it, with extra mayonnaise. She watched with pride as he took a bite. She'd never made sandwiches for anyone before.

"You're telling me. Just wait until you see her mad."

Gail pulled the tin foil back from her veggie sub. "That's something that hopefully won't happen for a long time."

"Depends on how long you're planning to stay."

Although Flynn said it like an afterthought, Gail knew he was probing. It was the perfect time to offer the proposition she'd been mulling over the past week.

Gail swallowed a bite of her sandwich. "So, what are you going to do next? Still planning on continuing to give those tours?" He'd cancelled all the tours for that weekend.

Flynn shrugged. "I haven't thought too much about it. I've been focusing on helping Tabitha get back into the swing of things."

"Must be difficult to go back after what's happened."

"Yeah. I keep thinking about how it will take another twenty years for Nessie to wake up. Can I bring people out there knowing they won't see a thing?" He shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I'd feel my tours were a sham."

"Tell you what." Gail put her sandwich down. Nervous energy shot through her body, stealing her appetite. "I'm in the market for a captain for my boat. It's an ocean-going research vessel, so it would be different than Loch Ness. More bumpy. Maybe a little more boring at times. Wanna give it a try? You could come to America with me, or I could have you sail it here."

Flynn smiled. The teasing sparkle in his eyes didn't give anything away. "Depends…"