Won’t I?
I pull my car keys from my jacket pocket and single out the sharpest one, holding it ready in my fist to use as a weapon if necessary.
Now or never.
Briefly common sense puts in an appearance. I should walk away and call for back up. Keep an eye on the cave for what Marston does if he comes out. Follow him if necessary. I shouldn’t go in there after him.
No.
I’m going in.
Seize the moment.
I’m going to prove to Martha, Charlie and the agency I can do this job.
I hold my breath as I edge around the rocks near the entrance, keeping low.
Not a sound from inside.
My heart beating a mile a minute I step through the narrow entrance. Instantly my nose is assaulted by the smell of damp walls, stale air and seaweed. Trying not to inhale through my nose I switch to breathing via my mouth to avoid the horrible stench. Ahead of me I can just make out that the cave splits into two. One tunnel leading off into the dank darkness. I turn in the other direction and hear a scuffling sound.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
My whole body tenses at the words.
Carter Marston steps from the shadows.
Chapter Twenty
Sugar.
I should have listened to the sensible side of me.
Now I’m in a cave with a suspected murderer and nobody knows I’m here.
“Oh, sorry, I was just exploring,” I say, deciding to play it dumb. If I pretend I don’t know who he is or why he’s here then maybe I can make my excuses and get out of here as fast as my shaky legs will carry me.
“Of course you were,” he smirks. “There’s nobody else for miles around but you just happened to be walking on this beach at the same time as me and you just happened to wander into this cave at the same time as me.”
I try to back off. Edge my way towards the entrance. “I’d better be getting back.”
He moves to block my exit and I grip the keys tighter in my hand. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here with me, sweetheart.”
In one swift movement he strides towards me.
Double sugar.
I force my brain to remember those self-defence moves as he grabs at my arm. Ducking back I raise my other arm, the one with the keys in my fist and launch it at Marston’s face. I feel my fist and the keys make contact with his cheek and he yelps then recovers in a hint of a second and yanks at my wrist twisting it hard. His eyes are angry and I feel another flicker of fear.
He holds my arm behind my back and pulls me towards him. “Feisty little thing aren’t we?”
Another bit from one of Charlie’s extra-curricular self-defence lesson flies into my head and I push backwards at Marston, bending over slightly to throw him off balance and then stamp hard on one of his feet. He lets rip a stream of swear words then grabs at me as I try to duck out of reach. Heading for the cave opening I wonder what I’ll do if I manage to make it to the beach. It’s a good run to get back to my car and there’s nobody around to see me or hear me if I shout.
The ground beneath my feet is uneven and just as I reach the cave opening a rock slips and turns over beneath my feet causing me to stumble. Fighting to stay upright I realise both my feet are now off the ground and I’m being dragged backwards into the cave.
I wrestle against Marston’s hands which are holding me tightly from behind.
Then everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty One
I wake with a shiver. My clothes feel damp and my head aches like crazy. Automatically I try to move a hand to my head but realise I can’t. My hands are tied behind my back. How long have I been here? Another shiver runs through me and it’s not just from the cold dank interior of the cave.
Nobody knows I’m here.
Marston shines a torch beam into my eyes and I flinch, turning away. “Ah, you’re awake,” he says. “I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to stay out for the count.”
What did he do? He must have hit me over the head with something. A rock maybe? My head is pounding and I feel sick.
A scrambling noise reaches me from across the cave and I lift my head and squint into the semi darkness. Marston is systematically searching various crevices in the walls of the cave twenty or so foot away from me.
He’s looking for the sapphires.
“What time is it?” I ask, my throat feeling tight.
Marston eyes me for a moment then turns back to his searching. “Why? Trying to figure out when your rescue party will be arriving?” He laughs and then points his torch into a gap in a section of the wall.
There is no rescue party. Not that I’m going to admit as much to Marston of course.
What am I going to do? I can’t just sit here until Marston finishes his search and then decides what he’s going to do about me.
I try to calm my mind so I can recall my CCIA training. There was a section about hostage situations. I close my eyes to think. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to try and stall by whatever means possible. Give myself some time to figure out my options.
Do I actually have any options though?
A scuffling sound, small rocks tumbling to the ground, draws my attention back to Marston. He’s pulling a plastic bag from a crack in the wall of the cave and gently unwrapping its contents.
“I knew it!” he shouts and fist pumps the air.
Sapphires. He must have found Garrison’s stash of gemstones in the cave. How did he know about this place? Did he piece bits together from what Flynn had mentioned in casual conversation? Maybe he’d already been to see Isla before he came to Farra and he got her to tell him about it?
“Found what you’re looking for?”
I jump at the voice and Marston turns, confusion in his eyes, closely followed by shock and realisation.
Martha is standing at the entrance of the cave, gun in hand.
How did she know I was here? Did she find me by accident? Where’s Charlie?
“What the…?” Marston stuffs the bag in his pocket as he spins round and reaches for me, hauling me close like some kind of gun shield. I struggle against his arms but then he pulls a knife from his coat pocket, flicks it open and lifts it to my throat.
Chapter Twenty Two
I try to force my mind away from the feel of the cold metal blade against my skin. Beads of sweat are travelling down my back and simultaneously breaking out on my forehead. I’m struggling to breathe. What do I do now? We’ve already been through my limited repertoire of combat moves.
I lift my gaze to look at Martha. She’s standing firm, a calm appraising look in her eyes. Not a hint of panic on her face.
“It’s over, Marston,” she says. “We know everything and we can prove it. You killed Flynn Garrison, your friend, your employee, to get your hands on the sapphires he found on Farra.” She shakes her head in a disapproving way. “Not to mention you’d already got your grubby little hands on his wife.”
Marston yanks me even closer and I feel the blade cut a little into the skin of my neck. I try to fight back the almost overwhelming sense of panic. This is it? This is how and where I meet my end? No, please God, don’t let it be. I’m finding swallowing almost impossible, my mouth is so dry and my heart is racing dangerously fast.
“So how did you do it?” Martha asks, her gaze fixed on Marston, her voice even, almost inviting in its tone, encouraging him to spill his secrets.
“You expect me to tell you?” Marston laughs.
“I’m the one with the gun,” she replies.
He raises the knife to my cheek. “And I’m the one with the girl and the knife. Stalemate don’t you reckon?”
Then I realise what she’s doing. One, she’s getting a confession out of him. Two, she’s stalling for time.
Which means help is on its way.
“Garrison was an ex pop star who thought he could cut it in the world of science,” Marston s
urprises me by saying. “He was supposed to be intelligent but he never questioned why I was prepared to pay him such a hefty bonus for working on this site out on Farra.”
Maybe Marston is one of those guys who just can’t resist bragging. Let’s hope so.
Martha nods. “He wasn’t up to the job. Is that what you’re saying?”
“He could do the job but I knew what he was about all along, knew he was up to something. He made out he was the good guy. Ditching fame and fortune to live all alone up here and do his bit for the environment. Load of crap that was. In reality he was playing Melissa, cheating on her with this Isla tramp. He was also playing me. Like I didn’t know about the sapphires. He thought he could pull one over me? He wasn’t smart enough for that. I knew his weakness you see. I knew about Isla and the kid. He’d do anything to keep them safe.”
“So did you kill him on purpose or was it an accident?” Martha quizzes.
How long is this little confession going to take? Where’s the rescue party?
“I didn’t go to the site intending to do it but he was playing games with me and I’d had enough. Double bluffs. We argued and I let it slip I’d been sleeping with his wife for the past year. Bizarrely he flipped. Crazy considering he’d had no interest in her for years. Anyway, it all got a bit heated and I strangled him.”
The cold, matter-of-fact way he says the words strikes fear deep inside me.
“Maybe on some level I had planned to do it but not especially on that day. I needed to find the location of the sapphires from him first. As it turned out though Isla was most accommodating when I collected her kid from playing on the beach near her café yesterday and I reminded her how she should be more careful because he could so easily come to harm.”
“You threatened her child?” Martha says and I see her hands tighten on the gun.
Marston tightens his grip on me in turn and nods.
“Yeah, then she became all cooperative and told me about this cave.”
So that’s why Marston arrived on the inter-island ferry from the mainland rather than the direct ferry or flying in. He’d already been to Skye to see Isla before he arrived on Farra.
The acrid damp smell of the cave is filling my nostrils along with Marston’s strong and unpleasant aftershave and making me feel sick.
“Is Melissa Garrison in on all of this?” Martha asks him.
“Nope. We met at a work party she attended with Garrison. She flirted with me. I could see there was some spark there. Melissa is one of those women who want a powerful, wealthy man by their side. Once Flynn quit the band she lost all respect for him. She needs a man who will spoil her, treat her like a queen. It was obvious she wasn’t getting treated like that by Garrison any longer. She was desperate for attention. I knew it would be easy to start an affair with her. It would be useful to have her on side I thought, for information, but it did become more than that after a while. If things would have worked out how I planned then she would have benefited once I’d sold the sapphires. She’s a free woman now. I was going to keep one of the stones back and get it made into an engagement ring for her. Kind of ironic don’t you think?”
Martha says nothing. Now what?
“So we’re done with the chatting?” he says. “Because I need to get going. I have things to do.”
What things? Fear flares in me again.
“I’m leaving now,” he says, starting to move towards the cave entrance, hauling me with him, still using me as a shield.
“You’re going nowhere,” Martha says, lifting her gun again, finger on the trigger.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” he laughs. “Not while I have your little friend here.”
“What will you do?” Martha asks, gun still trained on him.
“She’s not much use to me once I’m out of here.” The blade digs into my face a little and I feel warm blood slide slowly down my cheek. I close my eyes. “I’ll ditch her once I’ve made sure she can’t speak ever again.”
An ear splittingly loud crack rings out from behind us, echoing off the walls of the cave. Then the knife slides down my face, down my neck as Marston’s hands release me and he screams in agony before dropping to the floor.
What just happened? Did Martha fire? No, I was facing her, she didn’t.
I turn. Charlie is standing behind us at the point where one of the dark tunnels at the back joins the main cave.
Gun in hand.
Marston is writhing on the floor, clutching at his leg. I look down and see his trouser leg rapidly turning red with blood.
“You shot him?”
Chapter Twenty Three
“We need to get out of here fast,” Charlie says all matter of fact. “The high tide isn’t far off now.”
“But the cave doesn’t flood otherwise Garrison would never have hidden the gemstones in here,” I hear Martha say. My head feels as though somebody is holding a disco inside it. Voices seem to fade in and out. I want Charlie to say something to me, to hold me. Snap out of it, I tell myself. Be professional. Be practical. Just like Charlie’s doing.
A hand rests on my shoulder but it’s Martha’s not Charlie’s. “Are you OK?” she asks.
I nod. Charlie flashes me a look but says nothing to me. He’s mad at me.
“The cave doesn’t flood,” he replies to Martha. “But the tide rises high enough to cut off the entrance to the cave so we’ll end up stranded.”
“What about the way you came in?” I say, my brain suddenly whirring into action. “You must have come in via another route to creep up on us like that.”
“Still from the beach so not any better,” he answers. “We need to get a move on. Get up to the cave entrance and see what we can figure out.”
“What about him?” I ask, looking at Marston who is huddled into a foetal position on the floor, still clutching his injured leg and letting out a steady stream of expletives.
“Unfortunately we’ll have to take him with us,” Charlie says, reaching down and hauling Marston to his feet.
“Charlie he can’t walk,” I say.
“He’ll have to,” he replies angrily.
Martha dips down to look at his leg. “The wound is bleeding heavily.”
Charlie pulls off his jacket, then his shirt.
“Much as I appreciate the striptease now is so not the time,” Martha quips.
Charlie glares at her then kneels down to wrap his shirt around Marston’s leg, pulling it tight to stem the bleeding. Getting up he shrugs his jacket back on over his T-shirt.
We make our way to the cave entrance, the sound of the crashing waves alarmingly close now. When we reach the open air the waves are lapping hungrily at the nearby rocks. We can’t have been in the cave that long can we? Our only route to safety now is to scramble over the narrow band of rocks which stretch ahead of us for fifty feet or so. Every few seconds the wind whips the waves higher and they crash over the rocks we’ll need to cross.
Martha leads our little expedition, me following and then Charlie who is reluctantly helping Marston. There’s a yelp and I turn to see Marston face down on the rocks. I look at Charlie.
“He slipped,” he offers by way of an explanation.
Martha comes over and helps us to pull Marston to his feet. He’s muttering, cursing and looks as though he’s about to pass out.
“I think he’s about to faint,” Martha says.
“Well he’ll stay here then, because I’m not trying to carry him across these rocks,” Charlie grinds out.
“Charlie!” I say. “We can’t just leave him here.”
He meets my gaze, his voice cold. “He’s a murderer, Amber. Who knows what he would have done to you if Martha and I hadn’t shown up.”
“How did you even know I was here?”
“Debs rang me. She was worried after you’d abruptly ended your call muttering something about suspects turning up,” he replies.
Good old Debs. I frown. “But I didn’t tell her where I was. I just said t
he beach. There are loads of beaches on Farra.”
“Exactly,” Charlie says with a pointed look.
“We looked for your car,” Martha supplies, eyeing Charlie cautiously. “What do we do with him?” she says pointing to Marston.
Charlie unbuckles the belt from his jeans and uses it to form some makeshift handcuffs, wrapping one side around his own wrist, looping it through and then putting the other around Marston’s wrists and yanking it tight.
Martha looks impressed. “Resourceful.”
We set off again, Charlie’s DIY handcuffs meaning Marston is forced to stumble along next to him.
On the wind I hear the screech of sirens and pause to squint into the distance while trying to keep my balance on the slippery rocks. A police car and ambulance arrive at the little car park on the edge of the beach where I parked however long ago. Within a matter of minutes our rescue squad, which includes Constable McKenna, the local doctor Gwyn and a few constabulary members and paramedics, is upon us. Marston is untied from Charlie and put on a stretcher and transported off to the ambulance.
“The sapphires are in his coat pocket,” Martha helpfully tells McKenna. “And I have a full confession from him.”
Constable McKenna nods his approval then turns to me. “You OK?” he asks, a worried expression on his face. “You look a little shaky.”
“Shock,” Martha says. “I think she might be going into shock.”
McKenna looks around, raising his voice. “Can someone get this woman home? Hot drink, blankets, rest, the usual stuff.”
Gwyn appears at my side. “She’s not going anywhere yet. Not before I check she hasn’t got any serious injuries,” she says and guides me towards the back of the ambulance. She wraps a blanket around my shoulders and starts asking me questions about what happened in the cave. I tell her I was hit and fainted for a while and she locates the bump on the back of my head. A few feet away Charlie is talking to McKenna and I strain to hear what they’re saying.
Precious: A Humorous Romantic Cozy Mystery (Amber Reed Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency Mystery Book 2) Page 17
