‘I’m Susie,’ Kirsty said desperately into the stillness. His finger was around the trigger and she felt sick. ‘I’m Rory’s wife.’
‘No.’ He had that right at least. The gun firmed, levelled now at Susie’s belly. ‘She’s the one. She’s pregnant. And I’ve looked it up again. Everything’s entailed. The old man dies and the kid gets everything. The title, the land back in Scotland, even most of this place. I’m screwed.’ He focused again on Susie. ‘I came this morning to make you sorry. I saw the pumpkin and I knew how much the old man loved it and I was right, wasn’t I? The shock nearly killed him. They’ve carted him off with a heart attack and any minute now he’ll be dead and what’s his will be mine. I’ve just got to get rid of you.’
‘Angus isn’t dying,’ Kirsty said urgently, but she was ignored.
‘I thought when I killed Rory that it’d be easy.’
Dear God. Kirsty saw Susie’s face blench and she thought her twin might fall over. She took an involuntary step forward, but the gun waved in her direction and she stilled again.
‘That’s right,’ he snarled. ‘You thought it was an accident, didn’t you? You all did. It was too damned easy. I knew he was married and I had to move fast. But that place where you lived… All I had to do was fiddle with the steering. You know how easy it is to slice through steering rods? Bash it so it looks like it’s been damaged in the past. Cut it almost through and then wait. I hoped you’d both die, but when it was only Rory I didn’t care. But I might have known you’d be pregnant.’
‘You won’t get away with it this time, though,’ Kirsty said, trying frantically to keep her voice calm. Controlled. ‘You shoot Susie and you’ll have a nationwide manhunt starting right now. Kenneth, leave us be. Just go while you can.’
‘I’m not shooting you,’ he said. ‘You think I’m stupid?’
‘I think you’re pointing a gun at us.’
‘And I’ll shoot you if I have to,’ he told her. ‘I’d rather we were all dead than Rory’s kid gets the old man’s wealth. Rory’d still win that way. But I’ve set up a better way and you’re in it, too, regardless of who the hell you are.’
‘You’re not going to shoot us?’ Anything to keep the attention from Susie, she thought. How long would it take Jake to get there? Too long. She couldn’t keep him talking.
‘I’ve fixed it,’ he told her, almost triumphant. ‘I came here this morning and saw everyone and thought the only way to go was get her…’ the gun waved again to Susie ‘…on her own. Make it seem like an accident. So I rigged the boat and came back.’
‘The boat.’
‘Down the cliff,’ he told her. ‘Move.’
‘Susie can’t climb down the cliff. Susie can barely walk.’
‘That’s where you come in, then,’ he snarled. ‘You get her down the cliff or I take her to the steep bit and push her over. Move. Both of you. Now!’
What followed was a nightmare.
The castle was built high above the road. Across the road was the cliff, and a worn track leading down to the beach. Kirsty could scramble down the cliff easily, but for Susie, who’d only just learned to balance herself on her crutches, it was almost impossible.
Almost. If there hadn’t been a gun pointing at them it would indeed have been impossible, but he’d given them no choice. Get down to the beach under your own steam or die first.
He was mad enough to do it, Kirsty thought. He had some slivers of rational thought-one being that it would be better if bodies were found without bullet-holes-but little else. He was having trouble differentiating between Susie and Kirsty. Once he’d met Susie and she’d been like Kirsty. Now Kirsty was like Susie and Susie was different- scarred and pregnant. His muddled mind wasn’t too sure, but his crazed logic told him to kill them both.
So the gun pointed at them both. Kirsty struggled to hold her twin upright as they staggered slowly down the path, and she couldn’t find a way out.
‘Hurry!’ Kenneth screamed, but they could go no faster than a snail’s pace and even Kenneth had to concede that hurrying was impossible.
Boris loped along beside them, ready for adventure. Kenneth ignored him. The dog was racing back up, over and over again, as if saying, Hurry, hurry, there’s a great wet world down here-but Kirsty knew there was no such thing.
Would he kill them on the beach? He had some sort of plan.
How long would Jake take to get home? How long would it take him to know their absence wasn’t innocent? He’d know after that barked command to stay inside and lock the doors that she and Susie wouldn’t leave, and the cars were testament to that.
But he wouldn’t think of the beach. He’d never believe Susie would get that far, and he’d waste valuable time searching the castle, the grounds, the bushland to the rear…
‘I can’t,’ Susie whimpered, and Kirsty’s arm came round her, rock solid.
‘Yes, you can.’
‘Shut up,’ Kenneth snapped.
‘Kenneth, you’re ruining your life, doing this,’ she murmured, trying to keep her voice measured, fighting to make him see logic. ‘You’ll never get away with killing us. Let us go and we’ll forget this ever happened.’
‘I killed Rory,’ he told them, shoving Susie hard with the gun so she fell against Kirsty and Kirsty had to fight to keep her upright. ‘You think I’m going to kill my brother and then let some stupid kid take what belongs to me?’
‘It belongs to Angus,’ she said. One of Susie’s crutches had fallen aside. Kirsty was acting as her support on one side and Susie’s sole attention was keeping her remaining crutch in place so she wouldn’t crumple where she stood. Kirsty was aware that Susie was weeping, but she was weeping silently.
She wasn’t fighting, Kirsty thought in despair. It was as if Susie had always known that something like this would happen. Once Rory had died, why go on herself?
She had to fight for them both.
Kenneth’s gun jabbed Susie again. ‘Faster.’
How could she fight this? Should she drop Susie and launch herself at the gun?
What would James Bond do in a situation like this? she asked herself desperately, and then thought that James Bond didn’t have a pregnant, crippled sister to protect as he coped with the bad guy.
If it had just been her…
Even if it had just been her, she had no idea how to escape. How accurate was a gun like that? How fast would she have to run?
James Bond might have all the answers. She had none. All she could do was struggle to hold Susie up and pray.
Jake. Please, Jake.
Finally they reached the beach. They rounded the last rocky outcrop and Kirsty saw that Kenneth had been here before. This must have been what he’d done this morning. He’d come, he’d checked the castle, he’d hauled up his uncle’s pumpkin in fury. Then he’d gone away and coldly found what he’d needed.
There were two boats in the cove. A motorboat was anchored a few feet from shore and a dilapidated wooden dinghy was hauled up on the sand. A towrope connected the two.
‘Get into the dinghy,’ Kenneth snapped. ‘Now.’
‘What are you going to do?’ If it was just her, she could run, she thought desperately. She could take her chances. Dodge or something. Not calmly do as he demanded.
But Susie was immobile, a target who could no more dodge bullets than fly.
‘Just shut up and get in.’
They made it to the boat, with Kirsty half pulling Susie, half carrying her. The crutch was useless on the soft sand. Susie was clutching her sister, and Kirsty could feel her shaking.
And suddenly there was a part of Kirsty that stopped being terrified. Suddenly she was just plain angry. Coldly, calculatingly angry.
Would he take them out to sea and shoot them?
‘You know, bodies get washed up to shore,’ she told him, making her voice flat and emotionless. ‘If we’re
