by Mark Ayre
Once the hot water had overpowered both the lingering effects of sleep and the dark thoughts that gathered like black clouds across her mind, Abbie got out, dried, and grabbed something to eat. Since falling asleep, Bobby had text twice. Without reading the messages, Abbie deleted the notifications and left the hotel.
No one else had texted. Abbie had hoped Alice would get in touch while she slept. That she hadn't meant Abbie had to tackle the problem from a different angle. For the time being, she would try not to worry about whether Alice was closer to giving up or fighting. That could come later.
For now, plan B.
On the hotel's doorstep, Abbie shielded her eyes from the watery sun and surveyed her surroundings. Someone was watching her. When she saw who it was, she smiled and shook her head. When she set off, they followed, but that was okay. She would deal with them later.
After returning to the beachfront, Abbie took the same route she had when following Jacob a few hours ago. Upon arriving at Louis' house, she reconnoitred the place. No gardeners or window cleaners outside. Only one car in the drive; too expensive, too new, to belong to a maid or cleaner. Sneaking into the garden, Abbie circled the property. Louis' downstairs seemed deserted. The man himself might have gone for a walk. Someone might have picked him up, or he could have a second car. Abbie hoped he was upstairs, preferably in bed, sleeping off a hangover. People were easier to deal with the morning after a night of heavy drinking.
There was no sign of the children, but that was as expected. If the teenagers were in, they would probably be in their rooms. Abbie hoped they were at school. Kyle almost certainly was. Jacob had returned so late he might have bunked. Hopefully, Louis wasn't the sort to let that happen.
Completing a final loop of the house, Abbie stopped by the side door through which Jacob had earlier entered. There was no time to waste. Even now, Angel could be planning her revenge against Louis; Ana might be readying another strike against Jacob. Depressed following her confrontations with two of her daughters, Alice would be growing ever more agitated. By the time it came to the meeting with Louis, she might be ready to kill him the second she saw him, rather than wait to hear if he was guilty.
Abbie couldn't let that happen. Not if she wanted to keep Alice alive.
As Abbie crouched in front of the door Tony had attempted to lockpick, she heard the creak of iron as her tail stepped into the garden. Rolling her eyes, she set to work. Fifteen seconds later, the door was open.
"—and that," she said, standing but not looking over her shoulder. "Is how you pick a lock." She paused. "This kind of lock anyway. There are plenty of doors on which that would not work. Also padlocks and safes. Obviously. Were you filming?"
There was stunned silence, then a meek voice, like a child caught shaking his Christmas presents, trying to guess what lay inside.
"When did you spot me?"
"On the hotel's doorstep," said Abbie. She turned to see Tony's shocked expression. "Oh, come on, you're a rubbish tail. If I didn't love to show off, I'd have taken you by the ear when I first saw you and dragged you home to mummy. I still might. It's a half-hour trek. Imagine how much that would hurt."
Tony bowed his head, which did not hide the flush of his cheeks.
"Don't do that," Abbie said. "I'm teasing."
Tony forced his head up. Still, he was not ready to speak.
As always, Abbie was.
"Why are you here?"
"I want to help."
A shot of frustration flashed through Abbie.
"And you could have, by doing what I asked. By staying with your mum. Where is she now?"
"At the house. No one will attack her there. She's safe."
"She's not safe; she's depressed, and for the depressed, loneliness is often the greatest enemy. Earlier today, Ana lied to Alice, then Angel told her she had been an awful mother to Aurora."
"That's rubbish," said Tony.
"It is, but that's not the point. Your mum's in a dark place. I wanted you to remind her she still has children who love her, children who need her. I wanted you to remind her she has reasons to live. That's how you could have helped. That was your part, not following me and getting in my way. Did you at least ask her to send someone to look out for Jacob and Kyle, like I asked?"
Tony's head bowed again. His silence spoke volumes. When Abbie didn't speak, he moved the conversation on.
"What do you mean she needs a reason to live?" he asked. "What did she say?"
Abbie sighed. Glanced at the high hedges around the garden. She and Tony were close to the building. It was unlikely any neighbours would spot them, nor anyone in the house. Not impossible. Nor was it inconceivable that someone from inside might hear them.
"This is my fault," Abbie said. "I shouldn't have let you follow me. I got too wrapped up in my need to show off. It was unprofessional, stupid. I'm to blame too."
"What about my mum," Tony pressed. "Tell me what she said to you."
"She didn't say anything," Abbie lied. "Anyone can see she's in a dark place. Nothing can bring Aurora back, but you could have lifted her spirits. You could have—“
She stopped. Every word was a blade that sliced Tony's heart. What would Abbie gain by breaking him? How would he feel, following her speech, if his mother died tonight? His feelings shouldn't have been her concern. She found she couldn't stand seeing misery written so plainly into his features.
"Forget it," she said. "We have plenty of time, but we should use it wisely. I have to go inside."
Abbie pushed the door and was pleased to hear no creak, no sound at all. She continued to push until the gap was wide enough to admit her, then stopped.
Behind her, Tony said, "Are you going to kill him?"
"I doubt it," said Abbie. "Depends how our conversation goes."
"Conversation? What's the point in that?"
"What a strange question."
"I mean, he won't admit to having killed Aurora. Will you torture him?"
"Gosh, I don't know. If exposing my breasts doesn't work, I guess I'll have to consider the thumbscrews."
"Don't take the piss."
"Then don't ask stupid questions. I don't have a firm plan. I'm going to talk to Louis and see what happens. Not happy with that, fine—“ from her jacket, she grabbed Tony's gun and shoved it into his chest “—you deal with him."
Tony stared at the gun as though it were a poisonous and angry snake, writhing on his chest, searching for his flesh. He took a quick step back. Almost tripped and collapsed. Steadied himself.
"I trust you," he said. "Just please, now I'm here, let me come inside."
Closing her eyes, Abbie considered the request. If she let Tony enter, he would no doubt be clumsy and loud, and he would almost certainly ignore her orders when they came face to face with Louis. In other words, letting him come along would be an idiotic decision.
When Abbie opened her eyes, Tony's head was bowed in that mopey pose again. Feeling her resolve slip away, she sighed.
"You touch nothing, you remain silent, you keep at my heel. From these rules, you do not deviate without my expression permission." Abbie replaced the gun in her jacket. "Only exception: some nutter comes out firing at us, you’re welcome to play human shield to keep me alive. Understand?"
Like a child, excited to be involved and determined to prove they can follow the rules, Tony bobbed his head but kept his mouth tight shut.
"Good," said Abbie. "Let's do this."
They stepped inside.
Beyond the side-door was a corridor which ran the length of the house. Closing the door through which she had entered, Abbie paused, listened. But there was only silence.
Four internal and two external doors offered exits from the corridor. There was also a staircase leading up.
Stepping along the corridor, Abbie stopped at the first door, pressed her ear against the wood, then opened it.
An empty kitchen containing a huge fridge-freezer and the sink from which Jacob had drawn his
water earlier the same day. Abbie closed the door and moved on.
Ensuring Tony stayed a couple of steps back, Abbie continued down the hall. Against each door, she placed an ear. As with the kitchen, when silence greeted her, she opened the door and entered the room.
As expected, every downstairs room was empty. But as Abbie reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard muffled sounds emanating from above. Possibly a conversation, maybe a telly. From downstairs, too hard to tell.
With a silent warning to Tony, who had followed her orders but was none the less irritating her with his nervous energy, Abbie made her way up the stairs, taking each with slow caution to prevent the familiar creaks and groans of old wood.
As she rose, the voices came into clearer focus. It wasn't the telly, nor a call with one side on speakerphone. These were two distinct adult talkers in one of the rooms upstairs.
By the time Abbie reached the top step, she knew she was listening to a man and a woman and was almost sure which door they were behind. She needed only a few more words to be sure.
Naturally, that was when they fell silent.
Abbie froze, waiting, listening. There were four doors in sight and two more around a corner at the end of the landing. Close as she now was to the speakers, Abbie did not want to risk getting the wrong room in case Louis, or whoever, heard her opening the door.
Abbie closed her eyes. Willing them to speak again.
Something prodded the small of her back. Abbie almost screamed.
Spinning, she remembered Tony, who recoiled as she turned, lost his balance, and began to fall.
Abbie grabbed his arm. Grabbed the head of the bannister post. Pulled.
Tony swung, almost crashed into the bannister and went over. At the last second raised a hand and prevented the accident.
There was a thunk as his palm hit the wood. Abbie froze, turned her head towards the doors in her view.
Had they been heard?
Silence. Silence. Then...
A creak. Like someone getting off a bed or a chair. As though someone had heard a noise on the stairs and was coming to investigate.
Abbie's eyes shot back to Tony. Having grabbed hold of the bannister, he had reclaimed his balance. Abbie released him and went for her gun, hoping to scare whoever appeared on the landing.
No one did.
There was a creak, loud enough that Abbie could pinpoint from which room it came.
It was followed by a moan. Which was followed by another, then another.
It was apparent what they were hearing. Abbie turned to see Tony's ears redden with embarrassment.
Abbie rolled her eyes. Had speed and silence not been of the essence, Abbie might have explained to Tony that this was good. If Louis was busy enjoying the company of a young lady, he was far less likely to be prepared to respond to Abbie’s entrance. At least until it was too late.
Crossing from the stairs, Abbie stopped outside the door behind which Louis sounded as though he was very much enjoying himself. She could tell it opened at the far right of the room, and the bed was almost certainly on the opposite wall to the door because of where the window had to be. That meant Abbie needed to open the door, step in, and sweep her gun in an arc until she found a head at which to aim.
Easy. In theory.
As the moaning intensified, Abbie put her shoulder to the door, holding her gun in one hand and the handle in the other.
The door had no keyhole. If, when Abbie tried to burst in, she learned there was a bolt on the door's other side, the result would be embarrassment and a quick rethink. Otherwise, Abbie should be able to step straight in.
Again the man's moans intensified. Tony lay a hand on Abbie's arm. His eyes said, shouldn't we wait for them to finish?
With a silent sigh, Abbie shook off Tony's grip, turned the handle, and pushed.
The door swung open.
Abbie stepped inside, gun raised.
The moans stopped. Someone said, "Oh, shit."
Opposite the door was a wardrobe. From the dark wood furniture piece, Abbie brought her gun in an arc along the wall, over a dark carpet onto a bed covered in psychedelic sheets and in which lay a startled man.
"Shit," the man said again. "Don’t—“
He kicked. From beneath the covers came a scream as both screamer and duvet rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor.
By now, Abbie had the gun trained on the man's head.
"Louis, I presume?"
All credit to the man. Abbie's appearance had been a shock, but he was regaining his composure even as his lover tumbled off the bed. By the time Abbie asked her question, he was sitting up, naked, legs spread, his pride and joy standing to attention as though desperate to be involved in the conversation.
"That's me," he said. "And you are?"
"Uninterested in your penis. Cover it up, will you?"
Louis smiled. "Not embarrassing you, am I?"
"Of course not. It's just, at present, I don't know which head to aim at."
Louis laughed. At the side of the bed, his lady friend was still trying to extract himself from the covers. Louis leaned the other way, towards his jeans.
"I don't think so," said Abbie. "Back on the bed."
Louis sighed. "I thought you wanted—“
"There's a perfectly good pillow next to you."
"I can't use that."
"Please, it's not that big."
"No, I mean these sheets were expensive."
"Then you probably shouldn't have been entertaining on them," said Abbie. "By the way, I was told you didn't bring women back here. Was I misinformed?"
Louis didn't answer that question. Understandably, he had one of his own.
"Why are you here?"
“To talk about my sister," said Tony, entering the room as Louis' lover disentangled herself from the sheets and stood.
"I guess you mean Aurora?" said Louis.
Tony didn't answer. He was staring at the naked woman across the room. Abbie shook her head.
"Tony, I think you're probably making the nice lady uncomfortable. Can you focus, please?"
Tony didn't. He was shaking his head. Tears in his eyes, he stepped back.
"Oh, come on, Tony, no one's that beautiful."
"I'm sorry," said the woman.
"Although," said Abbie. "You are stunning. You look familiar too. Hey, you know who you look like?"
"Alex," said Tony. "How could you?"
"Tony and his sisters," said Abbie. "And that'll be why."
Tony fled the room. Abbie watched Alex throw on a dress and bolt out after her brother. She left her underwear strewn on the floor.
"Well," said Abbie. "That was unexpected."
Thirteen
Keeping her gun trained on Louis' head, Abbie crossed the room to an armchair in the opposite corner. It looked comfortable and felt better. Dropping onto the cushion, Abbie groaned. Relaxation was immediate and so disarming Abbie almost let her gun slip to the carpet.
"Damn," she said. "I didn't come here to rob you, but I might have to steal this chair. Where did you get it? This level of comfort cannot be legal."
Not wishing to entertain any chair theft talk, Louis said, "Shouldn't you go after your boyfriend. He seemed pretty upset."
"Not my boyfriend," said Abbie, "and not supposed to be here. Us finding his sister in your bed has actually done me a big favour. Got you all to myself. Isn't that exciting?"
"I feel sick with glee."
"Understandable, but you might want to hold it in. I have it on good authority you're sitting on expensive bedding."
"I'll work on that," said Louis, "while you explain who you are and what you're doing in my house."
Abbie admired his ability to speak with continued confidence and authority, even with a gun pointing at his head.
"I'm on an aggressive friend-making campaign," Abbie said. She glanced at the gun. "A very aggressive campaign, as you can see. Louis, I want to be your friend."
"
What kind of friend?"
"Oh, Lou," said Abbie. "I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying."
"And what would that be?"
Ignoring the question, Abbie said, "I mean platonic friends. People seem to find me cold, unapproachable. I don't know why."
"Maybe it's the gun?"
"Maybe it is. Certainly, when I took my AK47 into church, no one wanted to sit with me. And they're supposed to be the welcoming sort."
"It's a disgrace," said Louis. "Do you mind if I get dressed? I'm feeling a little exposed."
"I'm sure you are, but I'd like you to stay put."
"Like the view, huh?"
Abbie chuckled. Louis was short and stocky. His head, torso, arms, and legs were all infested with dark, curly hair. His nose was squashed; his smile nothing short of sinister. In other words, he wasn't her type.
"I can remove the pillow if you'd like?" he said.
"Please do. I need something to distract me from your toes. Why are they such funny shapes?"
Louis looked, wiggled them. It was repulsive.
"Please don't do that," Abbie said.
"Hurtful. Can I at least cover myself with the duvet?"
Abbie glanced at the lump beside the bed from which Alex had emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. She stood. "Stay where you are."
She crossed to the side of the bed, keeping Louis pinned with the gun. Reaching the duvet, she bent at the knees and grabbed it with one hand. Shaking it, she determined there was nothing inside. Louis and Alex' sex games did not involve knife play, which was always a relief.
"Satisfied?" asked Louis.
"Not as a rule. Here." She tossed the duvet onto the bed and walked backwards to the armchair.
Louis covered his ugly toes, his legs, and half his torso. When he’d finished arranging the duvet, it concealed his hands and arms up to the elbows. Abbie gestured to them with the gun.
"Come on, don't take the piss."
Smiling, Louis placed his hands atop the duvet, palms down.
"You've done this before," he said, the smile holding, as though he found her fascinating. People often did. Before she killed them.
