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 to hold her breath, to contain the ragged gasps, to become one with the grass so that nothing, not even her terrified thoughts, would draw Trish’s attention to her.
She watched as the flashlight danced over the flower beds. Trish was using the light, but she wasn’t moving. She was letting the beam do the work for her and staying in a place where she had the best view of the whole garden.
The light moved away from the flower beds and for a moment, it flickered over the grass.
Then it was shining right at her, through the branches, and she knew that Trish had seen her.
“Come on out, Cassie. The game’s over now.”
Trish’s voice was hoarse and breathless, but it sounded triumphant.
She didn’t wait for Cassie to obey. A moment later, she was sprinting over the lawn toward her.
Breaking from her cover, Cassie ran for her life, stumbling in the dark, because the light had dazzled her and she was temporarily blinded. Her plan had been to head to the laundry room and, from there, try to scramble over the fence into the property next door.
Terrified and disoriented, she found she was heading in the same direction she had sleepwalked—out toward the bluff.
“The phone—it’s in—the bedroom,” she gasped, turning to face Trish.
The flashlight pinned her and she flinched away, averting her eyes as the beam bobbed toward her.
“I am not interested in the phone now,” Trish spat.
Cassie dove to her right, with Trish following close behind. The thought of that knife was making Cassie’s blood run cold with dread. All it would take would be one thrust of its sharp, lethal blade—and she had no doubt that Trish would put all the strength she had into that thrust.
As she was gaining some ground, disaster struck.
Her foot caught a rock and she sprawled onto the grass, falling headlong, jackknifing out of the way in case the blade came down.
But she twisted in the wrong direction.
Cassie screamed as she felt herself slip off the cliff’s edge. She grabbed desperately for purchase, hoping to find something—anything. Tussocks of grass sliced at her fingers but offered no grip.
The crashing of the sea filled her ears. Below her, she knew, was a dizzying drop to the crags. The tide was in; she could hear it. She would land broken and injured, and be swept out to sea by the cold and unrelenting waves.
Then her clutching fingers found a rocky outcrop.
The sandstone was wet and slippery and, worse still, it felt as if it was about to break loose from the cliff side.
Sandstone crumbles; she’d told Dylan so. Now this fragile hold was all that was keeping her from certain death.
Cassie grabbed onto it and held with all her might, knowing that she didn’t have much time, because her flailing legs could find no purchase, and her arms were already burning.
This had bought her a minute or two, at most. She couldn’t climb back up and when her arms were exhausted, they would release their hold and she would fall.
Her nightmares rushed back.
She remembered Jacqui’s taunting words, her face as she looked down with evil glee, ready to abandon Cassie to her fate.
Then, above her, the flashlight blinded her again.
“You’re hanging on?”
Trish gave a breathy laugh, as Cassie saw the glint of the blade.
“Not for long.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Even if she was not within arm’s reach, Cassie knew she was within knife’s reach.
She clenched her teeth, willing herself to keep on holding even when she felt the knife stab into her. Even though it would slice through her skin and her tendons, ripping her flesh from the bone and opening her veins, she must still hold on. She was going to keep gripping the rock until Trish cut her away from it, or until her own strength gave out.
Then, suddenly, the flashlight veered upward.
She heard Trish shriek, and the babble of voices above, and she knew that, despite all the risks, all the things that could have gone wrong, help had arrived.
Trish would be arrested now and receive the justice she deserved.
The only problem was that it was too late for her.
Her arms were shuddering and the sweat on her palms was causing her fingers to slip.
She felt them releasing and a strange peace filled her. She felt as if Jacqui was with her, offering her comfort, and she knew that as she fell, as her bones shattered, she would not be alone.
And then, another light blazed—this time a brilliant floodlight that illuminated the entire area. Even as her nerveless fingers lost their grip, she felt two strong hands clamp around her wrists, catching her as she fell, holding her in a tight, firm grasp.
“It’s OK. You’re safe. I won’t let you go.”
Cassie stared up into the intense blue eyes of Detective Parker.
*
It took a few minutes for Cassie to be hauled up, and it was only when she was safely on the grass, lying on a blanket because her shaking legs would not hold her, that she realized the personal risk Parker had taken to save her.
He’d dived halfway over the cliff to grab her before she fell, trusting that his team would somehow be able to hold him and stop him from falling with her.
They had managed. Bruton was looking visibly shocked by the close call, and the friendly constable, who had introduced herself as Trainee Detective Chandra, was in tears.
“I’m so glad you’re OK, Cassie,” she sniffed. “Parker, you’re a hero. I can’t believe you did that.”
He shook his head.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. That I should try as hard to save her as I had done to lock her up. You’re the one who made me take that risk.”
“But how did you know where she was? We’d planned to search the house first!”
Parker frowned.
“Did you not hear her? As soon as I got out the car, I heard her screaming.”
He turned to Cassie. “You were yelling, ‘Jacqui! Jacqui! Help
!’ I didn’t know who was screaming, I just followed the sound.”
“I was?” Cassie asked, amazed. She hadn’t thought she’d said a word.
“She was?” Chandra asked with equal surprise. “You must have very sensitive hearing. I was only a few steps behind you and didn’t pick up a thing.”
Before Cassie could ask Parker anything more about this weird coincidence, she heard a whisper from behind her.
It was Trish’s bitter voice, and she looked sharply around.
“How did this happen?”
Cassie was glad to see Trish was safely restrained. Her hands were secured behind her back and she was in the firm grasp of a uniformed police officer.
Cameras flashed around them, as the detectives recorded the scene. The discarded flashlight, and the kitchen knife that the police had ripped out of Trish’s hands.
“I made a plan with Harriet,” Cassie told her.
She couldn’t tell Trish what it had taken. How Harriet had sped straight to her house, stopping only to pick up a Dictaphone on the way. They’d planned together, nervous and desperate, knowing that their entire scenario relied on multiple factors beyond their control—as well as misdirection.
“The Dictaphone was a red herring,” she said. “But when I told you I was recording everything, that also wasn’t true. I called Harriet as soon as I heard you arrive, and left my phone on the counter. She recorded everything on her side, and contacted the police right afterwards.”
The children were still at Harriet’s house. She’d reassured Cassie they were holed up in her tiny family room, with junk food and cable TV, and that they’d be safe and happy for the evening, while Harriet waited in her bedroom—where the cell phone signal was strongest—for events to unfold.
Cassie knew she owed Harriet a massive debt of gratitude.
Bruton sighed.
“Next time you ladies plan a sting operation, please inform us beforehand and not during, or after, the fact. It’s always safer. But you acted with great bravery, and thanks to your actions, we can nail the perpetrator on a variety of charges. Murder, attempted murder, perjury, resisting arrest. She won’t get bail, and will be in prison a very long time. A life sentence, for sure.”
Cassie couldn’t imagine a worse fate, or a more fitting punishment, for the woman who’d so ruthlessly orchestrated her life and reputation to suit her own needs.
Trish stared at her, stony-faced, and although she didn’t speak, Cassie could see the defeat in her eyes.
“The van’s here. You can take her straight into custody,” Bruton told the arresting officers. “We’ll be along later, as soon as we’ve finished interviewing Ms. Vale.”
To Cassie’s astonishment, Parker handed her a white envelope.
“This is yours.”
Her passport was inside. Cassie stared down at it, not believing her eyes. Then she looked back at Parker.
“Are you really giving it back to me? You’re sure?”
He nodded.
“But—what about my visa?”
Bruton spoke.
“Your working status is not relevant to this murder case. We don’t intend to pursue the matter, since the person who supposedly hired you is now deceased. Now, we need to take your statement and do this interview.”
The friendly constable cleared her throat.
“The kitchen’s a disaster zone, love, but once you’ve walked the detectives through the scene, and we’ve finished photographing, we’ll get a clean-up crew in so that it’s all in order by tomorrow. Meanwhile, we’ve had an offer from the guesthouse across the road. They will allow us to use their dining room for the interview, and the proprietor invited you to stay the night in one of the rooms at no charge, if you’d be more comfortable there.”
“I would,” Cassie said, gratefully. “Please tell her thank you very much for the offer.”
Hopefully, word had spread in the village that she’d been the innocent party all along. Even though she knew loyalties ran deep and not everyone would believe the truth, at least it meant she was no longer the local pariah.
“I’m going to go to Harriet’s house now,” the friendly constable said. “We’ve decided the children should go straight to their aunt’s for the night, so I’ll organize things from that side. Could you help me with a change of clothes for them, please, and I can take a bag through?”
After she’d walked the police through the fight scene in the kitchen, Cassie hurried through to the master bedroom.
There, under the bed, was her phone and she felt filled with relief that it was still working. A corner of the screen had been cracked in the melee but it was still usable.
Heading back down the hall, she packed toiletries, pajamas, and a change of clothes into a bag for the children.
At the last minute, she tore a page off the pink notebook in Madison’s room.
“I love you both,” she wrote. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She added the note to the bag.
Then, grabbing her toothbrush, her meds, and a spare shirt, she walked with the police to the guesthouse for the final interview.
Her arms were aching, her hands in agony. Her fingers felt bruised and her palms were lined with shallow cuts. Clutching at the rock had left raw grazes on her wrists. Somewhere along the line, the sleeve of her jacket had torn, and when she took it off to shake the grit out, she stared in horror at the deep slice down its back.
Trish had come within inches of opening up a lethal flesh wound.
She’d fought for her life, but she’d won. Trish might be wealthy, and have an MBA and a high-powered job, but when the chips were down, Cassie had prevailed as the stronger person.
She remembered the inner resilience she’d sensed inside her—so tough and unexpected. Where had that core of steel come from? She didn’t know, but it had allowed her to keep her nerve—barely—and to hang on to the rock for longer than she’d thought physically possible.
Cassie thought about her tough upbringing and the scars she carried, the fact she’d had to survive fights and domestic violence, and fend for herself, even if it just meant doing humble waitressing jobs. Perhaps the life she’d been so ashamed of hadn’t been a bad thing.
Maybe—just maybe—it had laid the foundation for what she needed to survive this.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
The piercing ring of Cassie’s phone dragged her out of an exhausted slumber, and she fumbled to answer it.
“Hello?” She sat up, turning on the light and blinking bleary-eyed at the white curtains of the luxury room she’d been allocated.
The man on the other end of the line was a stranger.
“Good morning. Am I speaking to Cassie Vale?”
“Yes, you are,” Cassie said warily.
“I’m Dave Sidley from Dave’s Auto Repairs. We have your car.”
“My car?” Cassie’s voice was high with surprise.
“Yes. Sorry for the delay fixing it. Replacing all the wires was a time-consuming job, but it’s done now. I’m coming to town with my mechanic, so I can drop it off for you in an hour if you like.”
“Of course. Thank you so much.”
Cassie felt on top of the world—but how much would this cost?
“What do I owe you?” she asked, wondering if there would be time to head down to the bank.
“We’ve heard about the family tragedy. In the light of that, I can’t charge you. The job’s on us. Please accept our condolences and pass our good wishes on to the children.”
“I will do,” Cassie promised. “Thank you so much. That’s incredibly kind.”
The guesthouse proprietor had prepared her a lavish breakfast. Realizing how hungry she was, with her appetite flooding back, Cassie ate every bite. Then she headed across the road, where, a minute later, she was rewarded by the sight of her car arriving.
Gratefully, she accepted the keys from the mechanic, feeling elated to have her wheels in working order. With her car and her passpo
rt, the world felt hers again. Freedom flooded her, the rush as intense as wine.
Inside the house, the police had tidied the kitchen and swept up every fragment of glass. It looked ordered and homely and Cassie found it difficult to believe that such a nightmare had happened there, that she’d fought for her life, that she’d managed to trick a murderer into a confession.
Now it was time to leave.
She packed her bags into her car and waited for the children to arrive. She’d received a text from the aunt the previous night saying they were safe, and that they’d be home to pack up their belongings, by nine a.m. at the latest.
At five to nine, the aunt’s car pulled up.
This time, Nadine was first out of the car to greet Cassie.
“What a nightmare,” she kept repeating. “You were so brave. Thank you for what you did.”
Then Dylan and Madison were hugging her.
“We’re going to stay with our aunt,” Madison whispered, her eyes shining. “I’m allowed to join the drama club and I can go to boarding school next year if I still want to.”
Cassie felt her heart melt with happiness.
“Can you take fish tanks in your car?” Dylan asked Nadine in concern. “Because Orange and Lemon have to come with me. I’ve researched how to transport them.”
He shook Cassie’s hand.
“You were a trouper,” he said. “My aunt says I can adopt another rabbit. I’m thinking about it.”
Cassie smiled at him. Although she would never know who Dylan really was, she felt that she understood him better now.
“I know you’ll do your best for the little guy.”
Cassie waved at the children as they went into the house to pack their belongings. She planned to head into the village, draw enough cash to keep her solvent for a while, and then go past Harriet’s house with a thank-you gift. There was a diamante bomber jacket she’d seen in a shop window that she thought the cleaner would love.
And then, who knew where? Cassie resolved it would be somewhere far, far away from this village.
When she got into her car, she saw she had a new message.
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