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“Hurry,” I screamed as the lights of the Rolls came into view.

Casper scrambled into the back and Justina took the seat beside me. Her door was still open when I skidded out onto Loch Road.

She screamed and tried to drag the door shut. Impossible.

“Help her, Casper.”

He leaned in from the back, stretching his strong arms over her seat and reaching for the door. I slowed the car a little to help him. He grabbed the handle and grunted as he wrenched it shut. We exhaled a collective sigh of relief.

“Buckle up,” I said. Then I pressed the pedal to the metal.

I had no idea whether my car could outrun a Rolls Royce, but I was about to find out. I took the curves of Loch Road as fast as I dared. At first I outdistanced the Rolls but soon it gained on me. In my rear-view mirror I could see the headlights moving steadily closer.

I’ve been tailgated before, but never like this. Sir Alastair inched closer, nudging my bumper bar, trying to push me off the road. I gripped the steering wheel, fighting for control.

I won. Sir Alastair stopped tailgating me. But he had other more dastardly plans.

He moved into the lane to my right. There was no oncoming traffic—nothing to prevent him bringing his car level with mine. He turned the wheel, veering into my lane. I swerved to avoid a crash and ran onto the grass verge. I slowed. The Rolls shot past. Then I swung out onto the road again.

Ha! Big shot aristocrat. You’ll have to do better than that.

I shot forward. Up ahead I could see him hugging the right lane. He was waiting for me. I drew level. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was planning to run me off the road again. It was time to fight back.

I watched him veer into my lane, lazily, as though he knew he had the upper hand. This time I didn’t try to avoid a collision. I turned my wheel sharply to the right. There was a satisfying sound of metal scraping metal. Shame about your paint job, Sir Alastair.

He veered sharply. Out of my reach. A better driver might have come after me again but he lost control and skidded off the road. The last I saw, he was heading toward the loch.

Yes! Go Allegra!

I drove on as fast as I dared. When we reached Beag Glen, I parked in a side street. There was no time to hide the car properly, but I didn’t think Sir Alastair would be getting out of the loch any time soon.

I turned to Justina. “We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.” I checked the backseat. Casper was no longer there. I guess my Formula One driving had been too much for him.

As Justina and I got out of the car, he appeared. I started to fill him in on what’d happened, but apparently he’d been flying above us the whole time and had seen everything.

Justina interrupted us. “Let’s get my skin.”

Together we ran, stumbled, and somehow clawed our way to the top of the hill. It was still dark when my flashlight illuminated Leith’s Cairn. We were a bit too close for my liking so I urged Casper and Justina to move back. I gave Justina the spare flashlight.

“We’re looking for freshly turned earth,” I said, “but remember Sir Alastair did the digging, so he couldn’t have gone closer than a hundred yards to the cairn.”

Justina asked how far a hundred yards was. I showed her. Then we spread out and began to circle the cairn. Justina went left. I went right. Casper followed me.

“Couldn’t you help us look?” I snapped at him.

“I think I should stay close to you.”

A shiver washed over me.

“What about Justina?” I asked. “Isn’t she in danger too?”

“I’m not her guardian angel,” he said.

“Does she have one?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Maybe you should concentrate on finding the skin. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

I focused on the job at hand. Careful not to stray too close to the cairn, I made my way along the uneven ground. I figured Sir Alastair would have buried the skin as close to the cairn as possible—i.e. exactly one hundred yards. It would be a foolproof way of guaranteeing no one came close enough to dig it up.

I became so involved with my search I didn’t realize I was veering toward the cairn