“The Dictaphone was a red herring,” she said to Trish. “This phone has been taping you the whole time. I’m not letting your children come home until the police have listened to it and arrested you.”
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Trish’s scream of rage filled the room.
Cassie saw her face darken as she realized she’d been double-crossed.
“Give me that. Now!” she cried.
Cassie backed away.
Adrenaline coursed through her. She hadn’t expected Trish’s anger to be so sudden.
“No,” she insisted.
Trish paused, making a final attempt to regain control of the situation.
“Cassie,” she spat. “The police will never believe you. But let’s talk. We can work together. We never shared who else might have done it. The cleaner would be my guess, and if you and I both say so to the police, there’s a strong likelihood they’ll believe us. Come on.”
Cassie shook her head.
Trish laughed, but it was a high, panicky sound. She began babbling out the words.
“I can see you want more. That’s fine. After what you’ve been through, I’ll be happy to compensate you. Let’s sit down again and discuss it properly.”
“I’m not discussing anything with you, Trish,” Cassie insisted. “I’ve seen who you are. You deserve what’s coming to you.”
In the blink of an eye, Trish’s reasonable demeanor evaporated. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled back.
“You bitch. If you don’t want to give me that, I’m going to make you.”
She leaped at Cassie, who jumped away in terror as Trish’s nails raked her face. The tall woman lunged toward her and got hold of her arm.
“No!” Cassie screamed. She twisted away, trying to dislodge her grip, but Trish was fighting with the strength of desperation. She could hear her breath, harsh in her ear, as her fingers clamped around Cassie’s wrist. Inexorably she started prizing the phone out of Cassie’s hand. Cassie was shocked by her wiry power.
Flailing her free arm behind her in a panic, Cassie caught hold of something and grasped it tight. She recognized the shape of the giant pepper grinder.
Clumsily, she raised it and brought it down on Trish’s head with all her strength.
Trish swore violently, staggering back, and even though she didn’t let go, her grip loosened enough for Cassie to twist away.
Trish made another grab for her and got hold of her jacket, pulling her back so she ricocheted against the table. The wooden table rocked and tilted, and the bottle and glasses smashed on the floor. Glass fragments exploded over the tiles, as wine sluiced across the floor like blood.
Trish swore again as she slipped on a piece of glass, and that allowed Cassie to break free once again.
She made a desperate run for it, glass crunching under her trainers, skidding over the wet floor as she headed for the door.
Behind her, Trish had the strength and speed of total desperation. Cassie heard her footsteps thudding, far too close.
Then something tore at her jacket, ripping it open, and as she glanced behind her, she screamed.
Trish had picked up one of the long, lethal kitchen knives and Cassie had come within inches of having it slice through her flesh. The shock gave her an extra burst of speed and she leaped ahead.
Where to go? She sped down the hallway, riding on the wings of her fear, knowing that Trish was taller and probably faster, and had more to lose.
She bolted into the master bedroom. Slammed the door. She twisted the key in the lock just as Trish flung her weight against it.
Gasping for breath, Cassie realized the door had bought her only a moment’s respite. The latch was too flimsy, and at any moment, Trish could break through.
She ran into the bathroom, closed the door—and realized in horror that there was no key.
Cassie flung it open again and saw that the bedroom door was starting to splinter.
She slid the phone under the bed. For now, it would be a safe hiding place. Then she ran to the window and forced it open.
The latch was stiff, and the hinges had been painted over and resisted her efforts to push it wide. The bedroom door was shaking and rattling with wood splinters scattering over the floor, and she guessed that on the next attempt, Trish would be inside.
Visions spun through Cassie’s head; fragments of the nightmare where the window had become a skyscraper.
Pushing the fear from her mind, she jumped.
This was less of a drop, but the impact when she landed on the paved walkway jarred every bone in her body.
She longed to flee the property, out and away, but in a car, Trish would be much faster and could also run her down.
She was out of time; she could see Trish approaching the window. She had to get out of sight at once, and in this neatly trimmed winter garden there were few options. Hugging the wall, Cassie ran around the house, hoping for a better hiding place in the back, near the sea.
The only plant that offered cover was a small, spiky-leafed bush with red berries.
She crept around it and crouched down in its shadow, crawling as deep into its cover as she could and trying to muffle the sound of her breathing, which was coming in desperate, painful gasps.
Trish would know she’d escaped through the window. There hadn’t been a chance to close it. Therefore, she must know she was hiding in the garden.
It was nearly dark. Every minute that passed would make it more difficult to see her. If she could hide here for long enough, she might be safe. But she felt like a hunted animal when she thought of Trish; a hunted animal who was trying to escape the kill.
Cassie cringed lower as the powerful beam of a flashlight shone into the garden.
Trish had anticipated her. She’d left the bedroom and gone out of the back door. Now the darkness meant nothing and in fact would be Trish’s friend.
The flashlight beam dazzled Cassie, and she knew that behind its blinding glare, Trish was holding the knife.
She tried
