by J. M. Hewitt
‘William, yes. And people before him, and after him, too.’
Paula was aware that her mouth was open, that her lips were flapping uselessly. Once again, she wondered if she had heard wrong.
‘Who?’ she breathed.
With a sudden motion that had her flinching, Anna whipped off her backpack and spun it around to clutch it in front of her. Pulling off a glove, she opened the zip and upended the bag. The contents toppled onto the ice. Paula flinched at the impact.
When she was sure the ice wasn’t going to crack, she let her gaze land on the small pile of items. She drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the waxed jacket and lifted her eyes to meet Anna’s.
‘You,’ she said. It wasn’t a question, but Anna nodded anyway.
‘I opened the gate. I saw it was unlatched the night before. I got the keys from Mark in case it had been locked. He was a crew member on the ship. Did you ever meet him?’ Her eyes were far away, a smile in them that flickered for just a moment before fading. When she looked back at Paula, her gaze was blank and hard and… dead. ‘That’s his phone.’ With the tip of her boot, she nudged the mobile. It slid soundlessly along the ice before coming to rest against the jacket. ‘He won’t be needing it any more.’
The words, loaded with hidden meaning, were more terrible than if Anna had described what she’d done with him.
‘Wh-where is he?’ But even as the question left Paula’s mouth, she realised she didn’t want to know.
Anna held out her arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘He went into the sea,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Do you realise how easy it is to dismantle the railings on our balconies? I just rolled him straight into the water.’
Paula felt her body begin to quake with shock as finally, belatedly, she realised that she was in mortal danger. This woman would kill her, had killed before, two people that she had mentioned in as many minutes. She would not be telling Paula all this if she was planning to let her walk away. Paula had known people like this existed, but never, ever had she thought that in her adult life she would encounter such barbaric evil herself.
Run, she told herself again, and miraculously this time her body responded. She spun around to face away from Anna, her feet wheeling comically on the ice, and skidded away, running in a crouch, one hand trailing on the ice to stop herself from falling. Between the snowflakes that had thickened into a snowstorm, she saw tracks in the ice. Half of her brain wondered what they were, before realising they were not tracks; rather they were cracks. Spider webs of danger that even now were growing and multiplying. She changed direction, flashes of Anna in her peripheral vision to her right, and put her head down and urged her body along, sending up silent prayers that the ice would hold, that she could get back to the shore.
But what then? She chanced a look over her shoulder. Anna was moving fast, gaining on her, gliding along, and the sight made Paula slow down as she observed the other woman properly.
What could Anna do? Unless she had a gun concealed on her person, or a knife or some other weapon, what harm could this tiny, emaciated child-woman really do her?
She’s killed men, a voice hissed in her ear. The man in the newspaper had been old, slightly infirm, but the other one, Mark, what about him? Paula looked down at herself. She was bigger than Anna, but she wasn’t a fighter. She had never had a physical altercation in her life.
And then all her thoughts were shoved aside at the sight that suddenly appeared in front of her.
Through the snow that was coming down like tiny blades, she saw a dark hole open up in the ice a few metres ahead.
The shore!
The gravel, the sand and the sludgy ice – she had made it back to land!
She skidded to a stop just in time, and screamed, the sound ringing out, bouncing off the rocks that surrounded the lake, flinging her cry back at her in an echo.
It wasn’t the shore at all; it was a hole. A great gaping breach in the ice. From here she could see the sides of it, the ice inches thick, and the jet-black water inside.
Her feet went out from under her, and she landed painfully on her knees.
Dead end! her brain was screaming. She scrabbled helplessly on the ice as she tried to stand.
Something, some piece of knowledge imparted by Tommy, came to her. Ice holes, drilled by fishermen to enable them to continue their trade while the lake or river was frozen. Too wide to jump, but no time to go around it.
She wasn’t sure if she heard, felt or sensed Anna’s presence, but there she was, gliding up behind Paula, the ice hole not frightening her.
No, for Anna, it was a perfect opportunity.
Her hands shot out, fingers roughly grabbing Paula’s neck as she brought up her leg and jammed her knee into her back. Then she pulled Paula’s head back and kicked it with all her might.
Paula’s breath came out in a whomph sound, a sigh that seemed to draw every ounce of air from her lungs. There was no pain, not really, not yet. Just a deep sense of shock, dark and desolate as the hole in front of her.
The light, already fading from the day, dimmed rapidly, a vignette in her vision. She felt her head lolling and stupidly heavy, her chin nodding towards her chest.
She slumped backwards into the arms of her persecutor.
* * *
Anna worked quickly, down on her knees now, pushing the other woman across the ice. She had thought she was unconscious, but as they reached the lip of the hole, Paula’s hands shot out to grip the edges of the ice, her fingers fluttering one minute, still the next.
Semi-conscious, Anna realised. She straddled Paula’s back until she was kneeling on her shoulder blades, then raised her right leg again and this time stamped on Paula’s hand.
Paula shrieked, her fingers splaying wide as she let go of the ice. With one hand free, it was easy to tug the other one away; then, in a single fluid motion, Anna leapt up and grabbed the back of Paula’s coat, heaving her forward into the black water.
She wheezed as she tried to get her breath back, knowing she only had a few seconds before Paula’s body would rise to the surface again. The shock of the water had temporarily revived her, she saw, and she came up kicking and screaming, arms flailing. Anna angled herself in preparation, and as Paula’s face rose, mouth open as she sought air, she landed a boot on the crown of her head. Before Paula could recover, Anna went down on her knees and grabbed her hair, pushing her head down, down, down until no part of her was visible above the ice-cold water. Then, with the last of her strength, she shoved her backwards.
She stood up and shook her hands. Next time Paula came back up, she would hit the thick ice above her. No air, no escape hole.
She leaned over and put her hands on her knees, breathing hard.
Her job was done.
It was time to go back to the ship, and to Tommy.
Chapter 24
As Anna thrashed her way along the footpath that led back towards the harbour, she ripped the backpack off her shoulders. Anxiously, she glanced at her watch. It was well past the hour the Ruby Spirit should have left. She was short on time now, and though she was exhausted, and indeed felt rather faint, she pushed onwards.
She tore the zip open as she half ran, half stumbled through the densely packed pine trees. Out came Paula’s iPhone, and she tossed it over her shoulder. It landed with a small thud on the path behind her, but she kept on going, no time to bury things now, but confident that nobody else was going to tread this path. The master keys were next, the ones she had taken from Mark. No need for them any longer. Over her shoulder they went too, along with the plastic sheeting, the spanner and the jacket that she had used to conceal her identity the time she had attacked Paula on deck, Mark’s phone in the pocket.
With the bag now empty, she flung that aside too. There was nothing in it that would lead to her, nothing incriminating whatsoever.
She let out a rebel yell as she pushed onwards.
She was almost in the clear.
Practically home and d
ry.
On her way to start her new life.
* * *
On the main road, out of the woods and far enough away from Ellidavatn, Anna spotted a taxi rank. She hurried over to it, patting her pocket and pulling out a bundle of notes, relieved that they had not been lost in her day’s adventures.
‘Skarfabakki harbour, please,’ she said.
The driver nodded at her in his rear-view mirror, and as he pulled away, she leaned back against the seat.
He didn’t attempt conversation, and for that, she was grateful. She would have hated to have to be rude to him. If anyone asked questions later, people remembered things like that. In the back seat, she pulled up her scarf and covered her mouth with it, her hands going to her hat, ensuring her hair was concealed. Happy that she was unidentifiable, she lowered her eyes, and remained with her head down for the rest of the journey.
‘Just here is fine,’ she said when they pulled up on the main harbour road.
She handed over the fare, shook her head when he tried to give her the change. As he drove off, she walked the last few hundred yards to the harbour.
The Ruby Spirit was still there, a small cluster of people hanging around the walkway from which they had exited hours earlier.
Tommy, she saw, with growing excitement, was talking with the captain, and beside him… She heaved a sigh as she saw Patrick Duane.
She turned her back and fell in with a group standing around on the dock smoking, glancing continuously at their watches. She recognised some of them from the Ruby Spirit’s restaurant, and she shoved her hands in her pockets and attempted to look as bored and impatient as they did.
Every so often she would sneak a glance at the walkway. She couldn’t go to Tommy while Patrick was with him. The officer was suspicious enough of her already, though she hoped the text message she’d shown him earlier had done enough to abate his distrust.
Discreetly, she examined herself for any signs of the misadventure that had taken place in Ellidavatn. Apart from wet patches on her knees and a body soaked in sweat, it wasn’t apparent that she’d been doing anything but taking a leisurely stroll.
She looked again to the boat and saw Patrick speaking into a walkie-talkie. He cast a glance at Tommy and bent his head to the device in his hand. There was frustration on his face as the wind picked up, and with a gesture at Tommy, he moved inside the ship.
Taking her chance, Anna hurried onto the walkway and towards Tommy.
‘What’s the delay?’ she asked as she reached him. ‘The ship was supposed to leave an hour ago, wasn’t it?’
He looked over at her, and even now, with his wife missing in a foreign land, she saw the desire in his eyes. Despicable, but flattering too, she supposed.
‘I can’t find Paula,’ he muttered. His tone said it all. It wasn’t worry that he felt, it was annoyance.
‘I’m sure she’s just lost track of time,’ she said. ‘Didn’t she spend the day with you?’
He gave her a look, but said nothing. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. A comforting gesture. He looked down at it, then at her.
Above them, the Northern Lights appeared again, shimmering and flashing in bursts across a sky that had cleared after the storm passed.
* * *
It was freezing out on the front deck now, but Tommy showed no signs of leaving. Anna wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stop shivering and glanced up at his face.
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Tommy. He looked at her properly, saw how utterly frozen she must look, and his face collapsed in a frown. ‘You should go inside, though.’
Ah, but she couldn’t. It was imperative that she remain by his side for the whole journey now. He needed to see her as a supporter, as someone who intended to take care of him, so that when they finally got back to Southampton, they would be so firmly entwined he wouldn’t – couldn’t – entertain the idea of her leaving him.
‘I’m fine,’ she said bravely.
‘What is she playing at?’ He shook his head, as if he were unable to believe his wife’s selfish actions.
Anna stroked his arm again and gave his bicep a squeeze. ‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,’ she murmured.
‘They asked me to bring these out.’ Dermot appeared, carrying an armful of flasks, sachets of milk and sugar spilling from the pockets of his parka. ‘The officer is coming down soon.’ At Tommy’s sudden look, he pushed on hurriedly. ‘I don’t think he’s got any news, though.’
Patrick was coming.
Anna rolled her eyes behind Dermot’s back. She leaned in past him and addressed Tommy: ‘I’m going to put on something warmer. I’ll be right back, though,’ she said.
He nodded, but didn’t look at her, instead taking the tea that Dermot had poured for him. As the tall figure of Patrick Duane appeared on the bridge, Anna melted away.
Inside, she hurried into the elevator and impatiently stabbed at the button to her floor.
She didn’t need to put on anything warmer, though she did need to fix her face and hair. She pulled off her hat and peered into the mirrored wall. Her skin was pale and dry, and her nose was so cold, it was red at the tip. She scowled at her reflection and lowered her chin, inhaling deeply.
She could smell herself, sweat that made her clothes cling to her skin. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her sleeve across her face. She was still sweating now, despite being out on the freezing deck.
It was the adrenaline, she thought, as well as the physical exertion. But the hard work was done now.
She swayed slightly as the lift doors opened and she moved down the hallway to her suite. At her door, she leaned on the wall as she pulled her key card out of her pocket. Thank goodness she was finished with the grind and the slog.
As she opened the door and stepped into the darkness, her world tilted again. She put a hand to her brow. Maybe she needed to eat an actual meal tonight. And perhaps she would; after all, she had worked hard today. She had earned it. A chicken salad, and it wouldn’t be cheating; it would be like a prize or a reward.
Not yet, though. First, she had to make herself presentable.
She walked over to the bar and poured herself a half-measure of gin. Not too much, just enough to warm her. She sipped at it as she scrutinised herself in the mirror above the bar. She didn’t like her reflection tonight, she decided. Being outside in the storm had ravaged her face. Still, she thought, as she raised her glass in a silent toast, she looked better than Paula did right now, of that she was sure.
She grinned, then paused, the glass halfway to her lips, as the curtain covering the doors to the balcony moved in the breeze. She put the glass down and walked across the room. She wouldn’t have left the doors open; it was so cold, they were almost always closed anyway.
To the left of the door was a console table; on it was an iPhone, plugged into her own charger.
The pink trim of the case caught her eye, and a chill travelled up and down her spine.
Paula’s phone. The one she had thrown away in the forest.
The curtain flapped again, making her jump, and an icy rush of wind blasted into the room.
Time hung, suspended, loaded, the tension palpable in the room. A second that stretched on. One sudden single movement, and then the attack came.
* * *
How long can you hold your breath?
Can you wake up now?
Do you see where you are?
Paula parted her lips and said, ‘Are you talking to me?’
The words emerged in bubbles, and water streamed into her mouth and down her throat.
She screamed. It made it worse.
The voice that had spoken to her so urgently vanished as the last few moments crashed back at her.
She was under the ice; not just in the hole, but shoved under. The top of her head nudged it gently, and through the water she felt it burning her scalp. She raised her hands and her knuckles grazed someth
ing solid. She turned them palms up, hissing out more air as the ice above her held firm.
Air.
She was running out. She had wasted previous breaths. Her lungs juddered and burned, the feeling of a freight train within her.
How long did she have?
Not long enough, and the thought was strangely calming. She relaxed her shoulders and withdrew her hands. She had come in through a hole in the ice, and there were no tides here – this wasn’t the ocean, it was a lake – so she couldn’t have moved too far from there. The hole hadn’t closed up in the last few seconds. It was here somewhere.
A shadow fell, and she tilted her head back. Terror ran through her veins, replacing the calm of just a moment before as a figure moved above her. Through the thick ice she saw the boots, the legs, the person they belonged to moving steadily over her. She curled her hand into a fist, but before she could smash it above her to get attention, she stopped.
Anna.
It took an astronomical effort to stem the panic, and even though time was against her, she remained motionless. If Anna didn’t think she was already dead, she would come back to finish the job.
It was an eternity, too long, and her lungs were burning, the air almost gone. Still, she stayed frozen, unmoving, and just as her eyes were rolling back in her head and her mouth was about to open, the shadow vanished.
No time, no time.
Thrashing now, she grappled at the ice above her, trying to claw her way to the right. If she wasn’t correct, if she had lost all sense of direction and the exit hole wasn’t over there, she wouldn’t have time to go back the other way.
Too late.
Colours burst through the ice, the sky lightened to daytime and through the opaque ceiling overhead, she watched, quite unaware that she had stopped moving, stopped fighting, as green and blue flares lit up her underwater world.
Heaven, she thought, but then the colours changed to a bloody scarlet, with flashes of slate blue and frightening bolts of black. Her heart sank. Sadness hung suspended over her, covering her, like the water she was in.
