He was exhausted. He had been running on empty, emotionally and physically, since his beloved wife, Fee, had died a few months ago. He felt like he was hanging on by his fingernails. Barely holding it together at work and at home for his seventeen-year-old daughter, Bonnie, and everyone else around him. He sighed, pushing himself on and calling on his deep levels of resilience to get him through.

  The mountain rescue team had been called out late evening by the police. They had received a call from a desperate wife who had been waiting for hours in a remote car park to pick up her husband and three teenage boys from a hike. When they hadn’t appeared at the agreed six o’clock, she had anxiously waited until 10 p.m. and then rang the police, who had phoned Jack to activate a rescue operation. Jack put out the call and twenty of the team turned up.

  Obtaining an initial idea from the distraught woman of a rough route the four may have taken, Jack had split the team into two and sent Gary, the dog handler, with his dog, Star, ahead to see if they could pick up a scent before the teams set off and the scents got too jumbled. Gary was about ten minutes from the car park when he radioed Jack and announced he had found the dad. The father was disorientated, possibly hypothermic, and saying he’d left his children on the mountain. Apparently, they weren’t far away, and were sheltering by an outcrop of rocks.

  Jack had reorganised the teams and they set off as one from the car park in the direction Gary had pinpointed. Gary and Star had gone on ahead in an attempt to find the boys.

  Now, two hours later, Jack had a bad feeling. He glanced at the luminous dial on his watch: nearly 3 a.m. He pushed on, checking the line again. As they moved further up the mountain, Jack felt sleet on his face and the wind increased, buffeting him harshly.

  His radio blared and Gary’s voice came through, telling him he’d found them. Gary’s voice was low and Jack knew from his tone that all was not well. He gave exact co-ordinates and Jack estimated they would catch up in another ten minutes.

  With renewed energy, the team increased their pace. Jack put in a call to ask if a chopper could attend despite knowing it would probably be unlikely in the worsening conditions, and his thoughts were confirmed. They were too near the mountain and the wind speed was too high.

  Finally, they reached Gary. He had done what he could with his kit and put the youngest of the boys into a sleeping bag, wrapped the others in survival blankets, and given them food and a hot drink. The youngest was barely conscious, whereas the two older boys were very cold but still fairly alert and improving with food, drink and an extra layer of warmth.

  It took the team nearly three hours to get down the mountain as the terrain was treacherous due to ice, and the strong wind hampered their descent. Light snow danced in the air, but there was increasing light, and for that, Jack was relieved. The teenage boys had been ill-prepared for the weather, so Jack had stripped off one of his layers and given it to the one who was exhibiting early signs of hypothermia.

  As they reached the plateau at the base of Whistlers Peak, Jack considered stopping to give everyone a warm drink, but after getting a weather update from base, he decided to continue. The snow was forecast to get heavier, the temperature was expected to drop, and the wind was picking up. The boys were flagging, and Jack had no choice but to push on.

  They reached the edge of the flat plateau that stretched for miles and plodded along the small trail that snaked over and around river gulleys with bridges and stiles, making it all the more difficult for the exhausted group. It was nearly 7 a.m. when the team finally trudged into the car park. The boys had started to flag badly in the last mile. The ambulance was waiting, and the team quickly loaded the boys into the back. A few minutes later the ambulance howled off into the gloom.

  As they gathered in the car park, Star, who had been trotting patiently next to Gary, raised his head in the air, gave a sharp bark and shot off through a small line of trees. Gary looked puzzled and turned to Jack as he prepared to follow his dog through the trees into the field beyond.

  ‘Are there reports of anyone else lost?’ he asked, as Star wouldn’t run off unnecessarily.

  ‘Checking.’ Jack radioed the mountain rescue base and got confirmation that no new reports had come in.

  Jack ensured the team were resting and drinking the last of the hot drinks in the warmth of the mountain rescue vehicles before he set off to follow Gary. He squeezed through the trees, seeing a copse of pines a hundred yards or so in front of him. Star was barking and despite Jack’s legs feeling like lead, he quickened his pace. When Star barked like that, it meant he had found someone.

  Jack followed Gary into a clearing where there was a large, raised circle of mossy stones with a hollow, sunken circle in the middle. The ring was around fifteen metres across in width and raised up to about knee height. He had a flash of memory of playing on the stones as a child with his brother and being chased off the land by a man in flowing robes.

  Jack stepped up and walked across the stones carefully to stand next to Gary, who was looking down at the grass and moss in the hollow part of the circle.

  ‘Gaz? What the…? Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, stopping dead in his tracks, taking in the scene before him.

  In the dim morning light, a naked body was draped against a large, rounded rock. It looked as if it had been arranged as it was lying on its back with one knee raised and the other knee falling to the side. The arms were thrown up, with one draped across the face, which was turned away from them as if hiding. Waist-length thick, wavy, bright ginger hair cascaded across the shoulders of the body and the rock that it lay on.

  ‘Is that…?’ Jack wasn’t sure how to ask the question. The body had male genitals but also breasts. Apart from the long hair, the body seemed to be completely hairless.

  ‘Call it in, Jack,’ Gary said quietly. ‘They’re long gone.’

  ‘We still need to check,’ Jack replied, and Gary stepped carefully down towards the body.

  Stunned, Jack radioed the base and instructed them to call the police.

  ‘We need to walk carefully to preserve this scene,’ Jack called. ‘This certainly wasn’t an accident.’

  The two made their way back to the car park to wait for the police, and Jack quickly briefed the team that a body had been found in the field.

  ‘Well done, guys,’ he said. ‘Go back to base for a debrief and grub, I’ll wait here for the police.’

  Two-thirds of the team piled into the various vehicles and headed off to the mountain rescue base, which was about thirty minutes away. Gary stayed with Jack and they huddled in the remaining Land Rover, drinking the last of the tea. Police and SOCO turned up and Jack and Gary walked them through the site. Exhausted, they eventually left them to it.

  Jack was dangerously cold. Snow had continued to fall and he was shivering uncontrollably as he climbed back into the Land Rover. He had given a valuable thermal layer to one of the boys, so he dragged a sleeping bag out of one of the kit bags and wrapped himself in it. Feeling instantly warmer, he fell asleep with his head resting on the window as Gary drove the Land Rover through the lanes back to the base.

  ‘Dad.’ A voice was calling him. ‘DAD!’

  Jack awoke suddenly and was completely disorientated for a moment until he realised he was in the Land Rover and wrapped snugly in a sleeping bag. He felt shattered, like he could sleep for a week. His daughter, Bonnie, was holding the car door open and had a worried expression on her face.

  ‘You okay, Dad?’ she asked, inspecting his face with a frown. ‘You look cold. Are you cold?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ he said, blinking and trying to clear his head. ‘You good?’

  She nodded. When Jack got the call to go out, Bonnie had announced she was going to the base to help while he was out. Since Fee’s death, she preferred to be around people during a rescue rather than home alone.

  Jack and Bonnie had managed to navigate Christmas and New Year, both struggling with the memories of previous Christmases, when Fee had always gone all out with decorations and food, and ensured the house was always full of people, wine, laughter, twinkly lights and conversation. But they had got through it together and had Christmas with Ruth and her kids, and Jack’s brother, Gabriel.

  Jack’s dogs, Kipper and Jess, jumped up to see him and he stroked their heads.

  Stepping out of the Land Rover, Jack tiredly walked into the base. The smell of curry greeted him, and he smiled to see the long tables covered in a scattering of takeaway cartons. He grabbed a plate and sat down heavily, wondering if he had the strength to actually eat and then head over to his water sports and bike hire centre and open up for the day.

  ‘Bro.’ Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Bonnie called me, said you’d been on the hill all night, so I’ll open up and you can get some kip. Okay?’

  Jack nodded, his mouth full. ‘Cheers, mate. Appreciate it. I’ll be in later.’

  ‘No problem,’ Gabriel said. ‘I need to get going. Early booking, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yeah. Ten mountain bikes booked.’

  ‘See you later, buddy,’ Gabriel said, nudging Bonnie with a grin as he left.

  Jack and his brother ran Whistlers, a large water sports centre, bike hire and cafe on Loch Davant on the outskirts of Ballamore. Jack lived on the same loch, across the water from the business. While the land and the assets were Jack’s, Gabriel helped Jack run it.

  Jack had always had the business brains and drive to succeed, while his brother squandered most of his money due to poor decision-making and a costly divorce. He was handsome and charming, but an absolute Lothario.

  Jack ate but felt even more exhausted. Bonnie appeared by his side. ‘Dad, let’s go home,’ she said. ‘You’re shattered.’

  ‘I’ve gotta help restock the gear,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve done most of it. Come on, you’re dead on your feet.’

  She was right. ‘Okay.’ Jack turned to an attractive woman with green eyes similar to his, wearing a ranger uniform, who was sitting next to him. ‘Mercy, do you mind supervising and checking the restock? I’m one step off falling asleep here.’

  She looked at him sympathetically. ‘No problem. Get to bed, Jack, you look like you need it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He stood. ‘Come on then, let’s go,’ he said and whistled for the dogs.

  Jack and Bonnie arrived home and sat in the car for a moment looking at the house. Years ago, it had been the local sailing club HQ, and when the club had moved to a different loch, it had sat abandoned for years until Jack snapped it up. The house was a two-and-a-half-storey wooden building with a wraparound balcony and was right on the edge of the loch. Mountains loomed in the distance and Jack could see them from almost every window. They fed his soul, and they were as much a part of him as he was of them.

  The house also had its own jetty, small private beach, and large boat shed. When Jack’s dad died nearly ten years previously, the inheritance he left had been enough for Jack to buy a few plots of local land, the disused sailing club house, and the failing business on the other side of the loch, which was now Whistlers and thriving. Jack’s dad had laid the foundation for his son’s success and Jack had grabbed the opportunity with both hands, unlike his brother.

  Bonnie sighed loudly and unsnapped her seat belt. ‘It’s still so weird coming home and Mum not being here,’ she said quietly. ‘Awful weird.’

  Jack’s eyes filled with tears and he blinked rapidly. ‘I know,’ he croaked.

  ‘Do you think it’ll ever get better? Be different?’

  ‘Guess so,’ he said. ‘Hope so.’

  Bonnie grasped his hand. ‘LY, Dad.’ This was their code for ‘love you’.

  ‘LY,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go in. You at college today?’

  ‘No. I’m working at The Bistro though.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Two till nine.’

  ‘I’ll take you in and pick you up later.’

  ‘Thanks. Now go and crash out.’

  ‘Okay, love. You sleeping?’

  ‘Nah, I slept at the base.’

  ‘Okay. See you in a bit.’ He yawned and rolled his shoulder that was still stiff from a recent injury he’d endured on the mountain.

  Jack stripped off his gear and headed for the shower. He looked in the mirror for a moment. Dark shadows sat beneath his normally bright green eyes, but they were dull from lack of sleep and general exhaustion. His thick brown hair fell into layers, finishing just over collar length. Generally, he looked pretty rough.

  If Fee was here, she would tell him to get some sleep and a haircut. He smiled at the thought and stood under the hot spray for as long as he could bear it, then towelled off and climbed into bed. He was asleep within a minute.

  Jack had wild dreams. He always did after a rescue, but this one was different. Fee was in it and she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear her. The wind kept stealing her words whenever she spoke. He was chasing her on a snowy hill and she was walking away from him, but she kept shouting something he couldn’t hear. He woke abruptly, gasping, because in his dream he had been standing on a cornice that had dropped away beneath him. He regulated his breathing and lay for a moment, thinking about Fee and what she was trying to say. He closed his eyes. The dull ache that was the loss of his wife, his love, his soulmate, was still there. Ever present. The tears came and it was futile to try to stop them.

  Fee had died from an aggressive brain cancer. She had been young and fit but suddenly had a seizure one day out of nowhere. Investigations had revealed an inoperable tumour. She had hung on bravely for ten months, until the last few weeks when the pain was unbearable and palliative end-of-life care was needed.

  The week Fee died was still fresh in Jack’s mind. He remembered the moment she slipped away, holding his hand, with a small smile on her face. He would always remember her smile. He saw it in Bonnie every day. There were no visual similarities between him and Bonnie as Jack wasn’t her biological father. Fee had been date raped at university and it had resulted in a pregnancy. She had insisted on having the baby and Jack had come into their lives when Bonnie was ten months old. He had fallen in love with both of them and they had become a family. They had told Bonnie and she considered Jack her ‘proper real’ dad and treated him as such.

  * * *

  Bonnie was sitting in the lounge. She could hear her dad crying and it almost set her off. He always struggled more when he was tired and he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She made a mental note to mention it to her godmother, Ruth, who was Jack’s best friend and the local GP. Ruth had been her parents’ best friend for as long as Bonnie could remember. Jack and Ruth had helped each other through losing Fee and were closer than ever.

  She scrolled through her phone, frustrated, desperate for a message. She hadn’t heard from him in the last few days. Where was he? He said he’d only be a few weeks and already she felt like he’d been gone too long. She’d texted him to ask him how he was, but he hadn’t even opened the message. She was dying to know where he was and how he was, but didn’t want to come across as being too keen. She’d try to play it cool until she heard from him.

  A thrill passed through her as she remembered the night she’d been drunk and he’d kissed her. He’d driven her home and then kissed her again and they had promised to keep it a secret until he was back, when things could be different. She sighed. She missed him. She fantasised about him returning and proclaiming his love for her and them being a couple, but she knew it would be difficult. At least at the start, anyway.

  * * *

  Detective Scott Hansen stood at the edge of the treeline and peered up at the vast mountain in the distance that was Whistlers Peak. He was wrapped in a warm coat that had cost him almost as much as his first car, and wore a pair of heavy-duty boots. He nodded to the SOCO who was painstakingly searching the entrance to the wooded area.

  ‘Anything?’ he asked.

  The SOCO shook their head and Scott continued into the trees, the area still gloomy despite it being daylight. He stopped at the edge of the large stone ring, confused, not knowing what he was seeing.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked a passing white-clad figure and gestured at the stone circle.

  ‘These are ring cairns. They’re a sort of burial ring. Erm, I think they’re from the Bronze Age or something.’ The figure hurried off and Scott walked carefully across the stepping plates that looked like a winding pathway to the body.

  Scott took in the scene and stood absolutely still as he studied the body as closely as he could. He dropped down on his haunches to try to get a better view. He’d been told not to leave the raised area and drop into the circular hollow.

  The scene reminded him of an old-fashioned painting. It was the light, he mused. And the colours. They made quite a surreal contrast. He was sure the style was called something like Pre-Raphaelite. He vaguely remembered a girlfriend telling him about it years ago and explaining that these painters believed art should be as similar to the real world as possible, so their work was almost like a photograph. He mentally chided himself for not listening properly at the time – he had been more interested in getting into her underwear than learning about art history – as that lesson might have been useful now.

  He studied the milky white skin, the greenness of the moss on the rock, the grey hues of some of the large stones, and the darkness of the trees compared to the bright ginger hair. He stepped carefully sideways, peered at the genital area and breasts, and raised an eyebrow. This might put a different slant on the case. He recalled seeing the same thing in vice when he was first out of uniform. He had done a brief stint in Amsterdam and had come across a body exactly like this. Male genitalia and breasts. The medical name was Klinefelter syndrome, but he was unsure whether, in this case, it was an actual condition or a condition by design. His time in vice had also taught him there were no limits to what people would do to themselves. He would wait for Hector, the pathologist, to educate him.