‘Yes.’
She closed her fist around it. Petur felt an urge to grab it, but resisted. Let her have it. Let it do its evil magic with her.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Petur asked.
‘I’m going to the police,’ Ingileif said. ‘What did you think I would do?’
‘Are you sure?’ said Petur. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’
‘Of course I am,’ Ingileif said. She glared at her brother. In addition to fear and shock, there was hatred there now.
Petur’s shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes. Oh, well. The ring was going to have its way. He had been foolish to think that this could end any other way.
He took a step forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Magnus passed a tour bus on its way out as he screeched into the parking lot. It was almost deserted. Two cars were parked next to each other – a big SUV and a much smaller hatchback, with a third a few feet away.
‘That’s Ingileif’s,’ said Jubb, pointing to the hatchback.
‘Stay here!’ shouted Magnus, as he leaped out of the car.
He ran across the parking lot and down some wooden steps. The waterfall opened up before him, a cauldron of roaring water. The path went to a ledge with an observation point halfway down the waterfall.
Nothing. No one. Just water. An unimaginable volume of water.
He looked up at the falls. The path stopped just short of them, all pretty much in his view. But downstream were more steps, a path, another parking lot, a gorge. Plenty of places to hide out of view.
Magnus ran down the steps towards the gorge.
‘Pesi? What are you doing?’ Ingileif’s eyes widened, but anger over-came fear. Petur knew he would have a struggle on his hands. His sister wouldn’t go quietly. He wished he had to hand a rock or some other blunt instrument to hit her with first. If he hit her hard enough with his fist, he might knock her out.
He swallowed. It was going to be very hard to strike Ingileif.
But… But he had to.
He took another step forward. But then he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. A couple with a tripod appeared over the lip of the hollow. One of them, a woman by her size and shape, waved. Petur didn’t acknowledge her but turned back to Ingileif, who hadn’t noticed.
He would have to play for time, until they had gone.
‘Do you want me to turn myself in?’ he asked his sister.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Why should I?’ said Petur.
For two minutes they continued a halting conversation, with Petur watching the couple through his peripheral vision. He saw them set up the tripod, move it, and then take it down. Whether they had taken a picture of the falls or decided against the shot, Petur didn’t know. But he was relieved to see them disappear back over the rim of the hollow.
He took another step towards his sister.
Jubb didn’t stay in the car. He looked around the car park, and then made his way to the information office. A middle-aged woman inside wished him a good afternoon in English, having sized him up as a foreigner.
‘Have you seen two people here?’ Jubb asked. ‘A man and a woman? The man is bald, and the woman is blonde. Icelanders.’
‘No, I don’t think so. I did just speak to a German couple. The man had a woolly hat so I couldn’t see if he was bald. But the woman had dark hair, I am sure of it. They were going to take photographs of the falls.’
‘But no Icelanders?’
‘No, I am sorry. Of course, I don’t have a good view of the car park from here.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jubb.
As he stepped out of the information centre, he saw the German couple the woman had mentioned, walking down into the car park from the hill above, huddling together against the weather. The man had a tripod slung over his shoulder.
Jubb trotted over to them. ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Do you speak English?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said the woman.
‘Have you seen a man and a woman up there? The man is bald and the woman is blonde?’
‘Yes,’ said the woman. ‘Just over the top of this hill here.’
Jubb thought for a second. Should he run up there himself, or should he get Magnus?
Get Magnus.
He ran down from the car park towards the falls.
Petur decided against hitting Ingileif, at least right away. He turned and sauntered over towards the edge of the gorge.
‘Where are you going?’ Ingileif called after him.
‘To look at the falls.’
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, I’m listening.’
As he had hoped Ingileif followed. She was still arguing with him, pleading with him to give himself up. But she was keeping her distance.
Petur paused, talked and then moved on again. This seemed to work. Finally he was within a few feet of the rim of the gorge. He had to shout to be heard.
Ingileif had stopped dead. She wasn’t moving any further.
Then he saw in her eyes that she understood what he was doing – tempting her forward to her death. She took a few steps back-wards and then turned and ran. Petur lunged after her. His legs were longer, he was stronger, fitter, he caught her up, throwing her to the ground.
She screamed, but the scream was killed by the mist and the roar of the water. He pinned her to the grass, but she raised her right hand and scratched at his face.
Damn! That would be very hard to explain to the cops. He would think of something.
He hit her in the face. She screamed, but continued to writhe beneath him. He hit her again, harder. She lay still.
He swallowed. His eyes were hot with tears. But he had had no choice. He had never had a choice.
He dragged her over towards the rim of the gorge. That spot wouldn’t quite work. Below the cliff a grassy slope dropped down to the water. It was steep, but not quite steep enough. He would have to go a few metres upstream.
He pulled her along a rough path, her legs and body knocking against bare rock. She seemed to be coming round. But he was nearly to a good spot; the top of a rock jutting out with a near vertical drop down to the river hurtling towards the falls.
The ring! She had the ring. Damn it. Perhaps she had dropped it when they had fought. Or perhaps it was in her pockets.
He lay her down. She groaned. He began to search her pockets.
And then, out of nowhere, a large shape flew through the air and bowled him over.
Magnus never heard Steve Jubb’s shouts above the din of the waterfall. But he did pause and look back up the way he had come.
He saw the portly figure of Jubb wobbling down the path towards him, his arms waving.
Magnus ran. It was uphill and it was steep but he sprinted.
He usually kept himself very fit, running several miles a day if he could. In Iceland he hadn’t had the chance, and already the edge was off his fitness. His heart was pounding and the breaths were hard to take. It was a steep path, but he took it as fast as he could.
