Death and a Dog

by Fiona Grace

  Lacey stared at the woman she’d once considered a friend, as she carried on explaining.

  “I was dazed. I didn’t know what to do. I realized my fingerprints would be on the bag, so I filled it with rocks and threw it into the sea. The plastic bag Buck had pulled it from fluttered into the trees, but I’d not touched that so I left it.”

  Lacey thought of the moment the police officers had become so animated at the tree line. They must’ve found Buck’s empty store bag.

  “I didn’t realize the strap had ripped off,” Brooke said. “When you turned up at the tearoom with Superintendent Turner and put the strap on the table, I thought I was done for. But then he said the evidence was damaged because you didn't have gloves. I thought I'd gotten away with it.”

  “You blamed Taryn,” Lacey said, recalling how Brooke had diverted the suspicions toward the boutique owner while they’d been talking.

  “It wasn't my bag. I thought if you and the police thought the pink bag belonged to the killer, then you could trace it back to the store and see that I wasn’t one of the customers who bought it. That I'd never even been in the boutique. I thought it would get me off the hook.”

  “And the sextant?” Lacey asked. “Was that you as well?”

  Brooke looked ashamed. “I’m staying at Carol’s. I can’t afford my own place yet.”

  “So you went in Buck’s room?”

  “I passed it. The door was open. Housekeeping. They knew he and Daisy ate late, so decided to clean it then when he was out. He’d been making a nuisance. Slapping their asses and stuff. No one wants to do the shift but obviously the two would complain if not. So they did it then. I went past, the door was open and the sextant was just there. It felt like, I don't know, fate? Like my chance at retribution. My chance to put right the wrong of killing him. So I took it, for you. I was going to leave it in your greenhouse, but when I went into the garden I saw your back door was open, so I put it inside instead.”

  Lacey felt squeamish. Brooke was still acting like her friend, but Lacey knew their friendship was over. She couldn’t be friends with a killer. Especially one who tried to justify their actions by blaming the victim. No matter how awful Buck was, no one deserved to die that way.

  Brooke looked at her with appealing eyes. “Will you keep my secret, Lacey?”

  “There’s an innocent man sitting in jail right now because of you.”

  “I know. And if I could get Xavier out I would. But I can’t go to prison, Lacey. I spent my whole life in the prison of an abusive marriage. I’ve only just gotten free. I can’t.”

  “It’s the right thing to do. The only way to make amends. You killed a man, and another will get blamed for it if you don’t do the right thing now. Don’t ruin any more lives. We’ll get you a good lawyer. Tom’s mom is one. You can argue self-defense, PTSD trigger.”

  “Lacey, that won’t work!” Brooke wailed. “This isn’t TV. In the real world there is no justice. All anyone will see is a woman who killed a man. It’s a classic he said, she said. And we all know who jurors believe. I could have the best lawyer in the world and I’d still go down for this.”

  “If you don’t hand yourself in, I’ll do it for you,” Lacey said. “I have to. I’ll be charged for perverting the course of justice otherwise.”

  Brooke let out a long, deep sigh. For a moment, Lacey thought it was a sigh of resignation. Of acceptance. For a brief moment, she thought she’d talked the woman into handing herself in to the cops.

  That was, until Brooke raised her head slowly up and said, “I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

  She lunged for her rucksack, as lightning quick speed, and Lacey finally saw the single item she’d carried with her to the island. It was a knife.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Everything turned to slow motion. The knife came arcing toward Lacey, and she dodged, falling to her side. The knife sliced through the space she’d previously occupied, cutting a huge gash into the side of the tent. Wind whipped in through the opening, making the tent shake violently. Lacey dove for the gap, slinking through it, with Chester slipping out after her.

  Out in the pouring rain, Lacey scrambled to her feet against the slippery sand. She raced straight ahead, not knowing where she was going, just knowing she had to get away. She glanced back briefly over her shoulder briefly in time to see the dark shape of Brooke emerging from the tent, looming up like a ghoul. The knife flashed in the moonlight.

  I’ve got to call the police, Lacey thought as she ran, but at the same moment she was hit by the horrible realization that she’d left her cell in the tent.

  “Chester, what are we going to do?” she squeaked.

  Chester barked and started heading in a different direction. He was leading her somewhere. Lacey followed.

  Before long, the ruins of the castle came into view. Lacey ran for them, heading inside in the hope of finding somewhere to hide. It was like being in a maze of crumbled rocks. The rain lashed through from above, because the roof had long since rotted away.

  Lacey saw a set of stone steps and headed for them, wedging herself under the stone steps, in the shadows they cast. She brought her knees up to her chest.

  Now what? she thought desperately. I can’t sit here for hours waiting for the sandbar to come back.

  Then she remembered the boat. Brooke had rowed here, and tied her boat up to the jetty, opposite the tent! If Lacey could make it back to the tent, she could grab her cell, then jump onto the boat and row away.

  But before she had a chance to put her plan in action, she heard the sound of footsteps scudding against the stone floor. Brooke had found the ruins.

  Lacey’s breath stuck in her lungs. Was her hiding place good enough? Or would Brooke, knowing she had all the time in the world, thoroughly search the ruins for her?

  “Lacey, I know you’re in here,” Brooke called. “Just, come out and let’s talk alright?”

  Talk? The time for talking was over long ago!

  “I’ll tell the police what I did, if that’s what you really want,” Brooke continued.

  Her voice sounded strange in the echoing ruins, with the rain pattering in the background. Lacey could get a grasp on where she was in relation to her, but it felt close. The hairs on her arm were starting to stand on end.

  “Come on, Lacey. We’re friends. We can talk this out. Put it behind us.”

  Lacey knew it was a trick. Brooke was trying to play to her sympathies, just as she had all along. And she did have sympathy for her, still. If only she’d had proper counseling and treatment for her experiences, none of this would have happened. She might not have been triggered by Buck, or flashed back to the past.

  Just then, Lacey heard the scuff of shoes on stone coming from far too close for comfort, and she bolted out from her hiding place and scurried up the steps. When she reached the top, she found most of the floor had given way, and in its place was a huge gaping hole that dropped down about twenty feet. Only a very narrow pathway linked this side of the staircase with the other side.

  Lacey put her hand against the wall to guide her, finding it slippery from rain. Then she took a very careful step onto the ledge.

  Suddenly, Lacey felt something give way underfoot. The stone was starting to crumble! She slipped, her fingertips grasping hold of the ridges in the stone.

  Chester couldn’t help himself. At the sight of his owner in dire straits, he barked.

  Lacey steadied herself and began to inch back the way she’d come, toward the top of the staircase. She felt sweat dripping down her brow.

  Then Brooke appeared at the bottom of the steps. Lacey saw her eyes assessing the situation, evaluating what to do, trying to work out if Lacey was going to die anyway in an accidental fall and save her all that trouble. With the rain driving down she looked just like something from a horror movie.

  Barely thinking, Lacey leapt. She sprung across the chasm in the floor and landed on her chest on the other side. Winded, she let
out a groan, then rolled onto her back and heaved herself up to her feet. Chester leapt the gap after her, and the two headed for the other staircase, Lacey wincing as she hobbled.

  From behind, she heard the angry growl of Brooke, and the thudding of footsteps as the woman went back down the way she’d come.

  Lacey ran down the steps and bolted for the exit, back out onto the island.

  I’ve got to make it back to the tent, she thought.

  She looked around for Chester and saw him anxiously looking behind at the castle ruins.

  “Chester!” Lacey said, getting his attention. “We have to go to the tent. The tent.”

  He gave her an attentive look, then bolted off for the trees.

  Lacey followed, diving into the relative shelter of the trees. Branches snagged at her, the little sharp pains like needles adding to the dull ache coming from her ribs. She must’ve bashed them badly when she’d landed on her chest. Hopefully nothing was broken.

  The sound of rain on the canopy above was deafening. Beside her, a bedraggled-looking Chester had a very determined look on his face. Lacey put all her faith in him.

  Before long, they reached the edge of the trees. Lacey peered out, seeing the tent ahead of her. She surveyed the area, looking for any signs of Brooke. But there were none. They must have lost her.

  Lacey went for it, pounding across the to the tent and ducking in through the tear. She scrambled around, searching for her cell.

  “There!” she cried, as she finally found it.

  She turned, ready to jump back out the gap and run for the rowboat. But Brooke was right there.

  “Thought I’d find you here,” Brooke said through the tear in the tent. “Although I’m pretty sure that won’t be of much use.”

  She was looking at the cell phone, and Lacey realized what she meant. There was no signal on the island.

  “I really didn’t want it to come to this,” Brooke said, putting one foot through the gap. “I really wanted us to be mates.”

  She inched half of her body inside the tent. And that’s when Chester struck.

  He jumped, grabbing Brooke’s arm in his jaws. The woman screamed and Lacey pulled open the zipper of the tent door and bolted out. She ran, heading toward the shoreline, even though it was completely exposed with nowhere to hide, not looking back out of fear of what might have happened to her savior dog.

  She started running along the shoreline, searching for the jetty and rowboat. As she went, she kept dialing 999, but every time the call didn’t connect. There was no reception on the island. The phone was useless.

  Feeling desolate and hopeless, Lacey suddenly saw lights, coming from the sea. Flashlights?

  Then a dark shape emerged from the sea onto the beach. It was the police dinghy! Superintendent Turner and DCI Lewis leapt out, guns drawn, and a whole load of officers came with them.

  “Where’s the perp?” Superintendent asked her.

  Lacey turned and pointed at the tent. “It’s Brooke.”

  “Is she armed?” DCI Lewis asked.

  “She has a knife.”

  The detectives nodded and made hand gestures to the officers, then the whole group moved stealthy across the beach toward the tent.

  Lacey could hardly believe it. She was safe. The cops were here. It was over.

  Except for Chester...

  She felt her legs go weak. Then, as she began to all, strong arms grabbed her. She looked up and found herself staring into the eyes of Tom.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “I came for you,” he said. “Taryn told me what you were planning. I called the police right away, then rowed out here.”

  “It’s Brooke,” Lacey told him. “Brooke’s the killer.”

  He held her tightly, shushing her and soothing her distress.

  “Chester,” Lacey managed to say, and then the tears started in earnest.

  All at once, a lot of shouting came from the direction of the tent. Still wrapped in Tom’s arms, Lacey turned her face toward it. The police came out, marching Brooke between them.

  Then, emerging behind them, came Chester.

  Lacey’s heart soared. She heaved herself out of Tom’s embrace and the dog came running down the beach toward her, tail wagging. She opened her arms and he leapt into them, putting his paws onto her shoulders.

  Only now, with Chester safe and unharmed, could Lacey accept she was safe.

  She watched, filled with sadness, as Brooke was cuffed. The woman bowed her head as she was marched toward the police dinghy.

  It was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  “Thanks,” Lacey said, accepting the plastic cup of vending machine hot chocolate from Tom.

  He sank into the seat beside the hospital bed she was perched upon. The papery blue curtains were closed around her to give her some privacy, but she still felt very awkward sitting there soaked to the bone and shivering, wrapped in yet another one of those silver paramedics blankets. She looked like she’d been through some terrible trauma. Then she realized, she actually had.

  She looked over at Tom, slumped, exhausted in the seat. He’d saved her, but she was filled with conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the effects of the painkillers the ambulance staff had given her, but Lacey felt very bold.

  “I saw you with another woman,” she said.

  Tom’s expression turned to shock. “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Lacey told him. “I saw you having breakfast with a brunette.”

  His face transformed in an instant. “Oh!” Then he started to chuckle. “Oh, Lacey, you didn’t think…” He shook his head, and inched up off the chair to kiss her forehead. “I was interviewing,” he said, one hand on the side of her head. “For an assistant. I need more time. Time with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really! If you’d walked past an hour later you’d’ve seen me having breakfast with an overweight bald man.”

  “Oh,” Lacey said, feeling foolish for having so quickly jumped to conclusions. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hiring?”

  Tom shrugged. “I guess it was going to be a surprise. I was planning on going to the focaccia course and then have her start the week after, show her the ropes, then take you away for a staycation.”

  “So you hired the brunette?” Lacey asked, feeling a small pang of insecurity to know Tom would be spending his long working days with a young woman. She could just imagine them giggling away as they made marzipan ferrets. “Not the overweight bald man.”

  For the first time in their relationship, Tom seemed to have picked up on her sub-text. He chuckled, and stroked her cheek tenderly.

  “She was the best person for the job,” he said, gently. “But I haven’t offered her it yet. If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

  Once again, the painkillers gave Lacey courage. “I guess I’m a little wary. Because I don’t actually know you that well. I don’t know whether I can trust you yet. It’s not your fault. It’s the fact that I trusted David for fourteen years and then he betrayed me. It's just going to take me awhile to be comfortable in a relationship again.”

  Tom nodded. He looked a little disappointed, but he did seem to understand. “We can take things as slow as you need,” he said, softly, sitting back in his seat beside her. “There is something I should tell you though. Something I’ve been keeping to myself.”

  Lacey felt her heart begin to race immediately. “What is it?”

  “My ex got back in touch. She asked to meet. She said she wants to reconcile.” He tipped his head toward the ceiling, almost as if searching for divine inspiration.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said no, obviously.”

  Lacey hitched her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “David asked me to come home.”

  Tom tipped his head back down and their eyes met. “What did you say?”

  Lacey gave a small shrug. “I said I’d think about it.”

  Just then,
the curtain was pulled back and a nurse came in, her presence acting like a punctuation mark dumped in the middle of the awkward conversation. It was the same bubbly woman who’d met Lacey with the ambulance in A&E, where the police had immediately sent her once they’d returned to Wilfordshire, the one who’d drawn Lacey’s blood, and given her a shot for tetanus, and put dressing on the scratches she’d acquired from the forest.

  “Your bloods came back fine,” the young nurse said, smiling kindly. She had a nice accent, the same one Lacey always heard on those sepia tinted ads that sold bread and Bakewell tarts. “And your heart, lungs, everything is okay. Blood pressure back to normal.”

  “No shock?” Tom asked from his seat.

  “No shock,” the nurse confirmed. “No concussion.” She looked back to Lacey. “So we’re happy to discharge you, if you feel ready to go.”

  Lacey nodded with relief. She was beyond ready to go. She was desperate to be back home, curled up on the couch with Chester and a nice cup of tea.

  Lacey swung her legs over the side of the tall hospital bed, and leapt down.

  “That’s the best thing you could’ve told me,” she said to the nurse, and thanks to her doped up state lowering her inhibitions, she pulled her into a hug. “You’ve been wonderful. You fixed me like some kind of magician.”

  The nurse chuckled. “It’s my pleasure. But once the drugs wear off, you will be a little sore.” She looked over at Tom. “Take care of her, won’t you?”