damp and querulous, the parents harried.
“I want an ice cream now, Mummy. You promised!” The small boy’s voice rose ominously.
“Hush, Trevor. I told you-”
Kincaid almost plowed into them. Between gasps for breath he said, “Anybody else down there?”
“Not with us.” The man pointed. “Some folks a little further downstream, though.”
“Two people?”
The man pursed his lips. “Think so. Wouldn’t swear to it.”
Kincaid left them staring after him, already forgotten.
He almost missed the signpost, and the body’s-width opening in the tangled greenery of the bank. LOWER FALLS. EXIT ONLY. Ignoring the sign’s discreet warning, he plunged down the track.
His feet slipped in the sand and loose stones, propelling him downward at breakneck speed. With a shower of gravel and a last grasp at a bramble, he slid out of the trees and onto the level surface of the bank.
Ten meters from him, Hannah Alcock bent over the river’s edge. Behind her, Eddie Lyle stooped and Kincaid caught the white flash of a stone in his hand.
Kincaid shouted, afterwards he was never sure what. Memory gave it to him as a wordless, echoing yell, a soundtrack to the slow-motion scene playing before him.
Hannah straightened and turned, breaking into a smile as she recognized him. Lyle froze. An instant later his arm shot around Hannah’s neck and he thrust his other hand into his coat pocket. Kincaid saw a dull gleam as Lyle pulled his hand out and lifted it to Hannah’s temple.
A gun. The bastard had a gun. Hannah’s brief struggle died as the pistol’s blunt mouth pressed against her scalp.
Kincaid raised his hands and took a few careful steps forward.
“Don’t come any nearer.” Lyle’s voice rose shrilly. His grip tightened on Hannah’s neck and Kincaid saw her eyes roll.
“Can you hear me, Eddie?” Kincaid didn’t shout, afraid that would make the situation even more volatile. “Listen to me, Eddie. It’s no use. Let her go.”
“No use?” Lyle laughed. “What’s to stop me killing you both and no one the wiser?” The fussy mannerisms had been replaced by a kind a feverish excitement. He was enjoying it, Kincaid thought. Sebastian and Penny’s murders may have been expedient, but Lyle had come to like killing. The knowledge froze Kincaid’s bones.
Hannah must have made some sound, because Lyle forced her head back further. “I can do what I like, Superintendent.” The words were contemptuous.
“Killing us won’t stop it, Eddie. You left traces. The lab found latent prints on the handkerchief you hid, as well as Penny’s blood.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Lyle’s face. Kincaid pressed his advantage. “You must have planned this for a long time, Eddie. You and your mother were Miles Sterrett’s only relatives. How convenient of your mother to die just about the time you broke into Hannah’s flat. Narrowing the field, were you, Eddie?”
“Copper’s tricks, Kincaid. Going to keep me talking until the reinforcements arrive? Did you think I’d fall for that?” Beneath Lyle’s light, almost bantering words, Kincaid heard the hostility that fueled him. “You’ve left out the flattery, Superintendent.”
Kincaid swallowed to work some saliva into his dry mouth. “I was coming to that.” Reinforcements were the last thing he wanted on Eddie Lyle’s mind-he wanted him to think he had all the time in the world. But where the hell was Gemma?
And what argument could he use to sway this man who had nothing left to lose? Lyle would never see Miles Sterrett’s money now, and he’d face life imprisonment whether he killed Hannah and Kincaid or not. “Satisfy my curiosity, Eddie. I know Penny must have seen you the night you killed Sebastian. Did she agree to meet you on the tennis court?” Kincaid’s tone suggested they might be chatting over a pint. He weighed the possibility of reaching Lyle before he could fire the gun, then decided it was physically impossible. He’d have to rely on his tongue.
“A passing suggestion on my part.” The smile came again. “It was as good a place as any.”
“And Sebastian? What did Sebastian find out?”
“The bloody snoop.” Lyle sounded peevish. “He saw me coming out of
“No. No, I’m sure you couldn’t,” Kincaid answered as if it were the most reasonable question in the world. He thought he heard a faint scuffling from the path above, and he spoke quickly to stop Lyle hearing it as well. “Listen, Eddie-”
“I’m getting tired of this, Superintendent. Step over there.” Lyle motioned with his head toward the riverbank. The sun caught the lenses of his glasses, giving him for an instant two round, opaque eyes, gleaming and metallic.
Kincaid heard a slither from behind him, then a thud. Patrick’s voice came, rising on a note of panic. “Han-” It stopped abruptly, muffled, no doubt, by Gemma’s hand. The sound of their rough breathing came clearly to Kincaid over the murmur of the river and the hammering of his own heart.
Lyle’s head whipped back toward them and Kincaid saw the tension run through his body. “Get back. All of you.” His grip on Hannah tightened.
“Give it up, Eddie. More police are on their way. Don’t make it any worse for yourself.”
“Worse?” Lyle’s laughter edged toward hysteria. “Why shouldn’t I have the satisfaction of taking you all with me? Especially her.” He twisted the gun against Hannah’s temple. “You make me sick, all of you.”
“What about your wife?” Kincaid threw it out in last-ditch desperation. “And your daughter-what’s it going to be like for her when you’re plastered all over the papers? Oh, they’ll have a field day with you, Eddie, you’d better believe it. And your Chloe’ll never be free of it.”
For the first time Lyle seemed to waver, his head twisting blindly. Suddenly Hannah crumpled at Lyle’s feet.
Kincaid launched himself toward them. The still sunlight seemed to coalesce around him until he hung suspended in it, powerless.
Knocking his gold-rimmed glasses askew, Eddie Lyle pressed the muzzle of the gun to his temple and fired.
CHAPTER 20
The humped umbrellas, black and gray, gleamed like the wet backs of whales. The Thirsk church still listed like a sinking ship, and the rain fell in a fine, soaking drizzle-appropriate, Kincaid felt, to the occasion.
The ceremony marking Sebastian Wade’s passing had been brief, as the vicar was forced to confine his personal remarks to Sebastian’s school days. The crowd had been as sparse as the vicar’s eulogy; Sebastian’s mum, supported by two women introduced to Kincaid as cousins, a smattering of faces who might have been old school chums, and the small group from Followdale House. Sebastian’s intense and often malicious interest in the personal affairs of others had apparently not earned him many friends.
Cassie, still sullen, declined to attend. “I’m sorry he’s dead,” she’d answered Kincaid, “but I despised him and I won’t be such a hypocrite as to go and pretend I didn’t.” Case closed. Kincaid supposed one had to admire her honesty, if not her lack of compassion.
Emma came alone and left as soon as the service closed. Her farewells in the vestibule were even more brusque than usual, as if the foreshadowing of Penny’s funeral had stretched her endurance to its limits.
Kincaid took her broad hand in his own for a moment. “I am sorry about Penny. If only I’d-”
“Don’t take too much guilt on yourself, young man.” Emma’s clear gray eyes met his directly. “She should have told you what she saw that night. She had opportunity enough.” Emma looked away and continued a little absently, “My sister wasn’t a stupid woman, for all her fluttering. I sometimes wonder if she… well, never mind that. What’s done is done.” She gave Kincaid’s hand a quick pump and thrust up her umbrella to meet the rain.
In silent accord, the four remaining moved out into the open. Patrick Rennie, who had left his wife behind, stood holding Hannah’s arm possessively. The still-shocked gauntness of their faces emphasized their likeness,
