by Erin Hart
“That doesn’t surprise me. You know what does? That he had no handy scapegoat waiting in the wings for his wife’s murder, nobody conveniently lined up to take the fall. Tripp Nash, Peter Hallett, call him whatever you like, he doesn’t do anything for himself. Doesn’t have to. You want my advice? Look around. Your killer’s got to be someone close to him, somebody like Jesse Benoit—prone to jealousy, easily led. Somebody who believes Hallett’s been ill-treated, abused.” MacLeish was silent for a moment. “He’s just going to keep at it, isn’t he? Until somebody stops him.”
7
The following morning, while Cormac was on his daily visit to the hospital, Nora and Elizabeth set out again for the caves at Port na Rón. The clouds from the previous day had given way to clear blue overhead, but beneath the open vault of sky, a thick mist rolled in on the sea’s glassy surface. The mist had the strange effect of altering distance, of making the small islands in the cove seem to loom close, and then recede. At times it was only a thin veil, and other times it appeared amazingly solid, looking for all the world like a footbridge upon which a person might walk straight out to the rocky crags in the harbor.
They bypassed the beach this time, and crossed over to the far side of the bay beyond the fisherman’s cottage. The caves were more easily accessible from water than from land. Nora led the way as they climbed down between the rocks. As they drew closer, the smell of salt and seaweed mingled with a distinctive animal scent. These caves were a rookery, Cormac had said—a birthing place for seals, where they came for rest and respite during their most vulnerable time. Nora moved forward into the cave, imagining the floor carpeted with warm bodies, white pups nursing at their mothers’ breasts. Cormac had assured her that seal breeding season wasn’t until the autumn, a few weeks away, and that they could stay here if need be without interfering with the annual migration.
While Elizabeth’s back was turned, Nora removed a bundle of candles, batteries, and food from her pack, and stashed it in a cleft in the rocks. She turned to see Elizabeth crouched and staring at the floor of the cave.
“Look,” Elizabeth said, as Nora approached, pointing to a shallow indentation in the rocks at her feet. “What do you think it is?”
The dishlike depression was splashed with deep crimson. Blood—it had to be. Some creature had been injured here.
Nora heard the soft sound of breathing, and looked up to find herself and Elizabeth observed from the cave’s opening by a spotted gray seal. One of the animal’s eyes was damaged; the side of its head bore a star-shaped scar. It was very like the creature they’d seen down the road at Bruckless. Not completely inconceivable—seals migrated long distances, looking for food. Still, it was odd.
“Lizzabet,” Nora said. She kept her voice calm, hoping not to startle the animal. “Here’s your friend again.”
Elizabeth turned slowly, her eyes widening at the sight of the unexpected intruder. The seal’s fleshy body was draped across the threshold of the cave, and its single dark eye glinted as it looked to each of them in turn. Nora realized she had never been so close to a wild creature, at least never one so large as this seal. She studied the fine white eyebrow whiskers that lent it a look of perpetual wonder. There was a gash in the seal’s fleshy neck—perhaps that’s where the blood had come from. The creature made a soft snuffling sound, and then opened its mouth, exposing teeth and tongue, and let out a bawl that sounded unnaturally loud inside the cave.
“What do you suppose it wants?” Nora asked.
As if in answer to her question, the seal began to shuffle in reverse. Once outside the cave, the animal heaved its bulk to one side, casting a glance back at them with its good right eye.
“She wants us to follow her,” Elizabeth said.
The seal led them down to the water’s edge and along the edge of the beach, turning to check every few seconds, as if to make sure they were still in pursuit. At the end of the rocky alcove, the seal galloped out into the rippling waves and dived, immediately transformed from lumbering beast to sleek bullet—the webbed flippers, useless on land, now marvelously graceful in that watery world. Then it was gone, leaving only widening circles in its wake.
Elizabeth stood staring out at the water, perhaps hoping for a glimpse of a glossy head, while Nora’s attention was pulled to a gleaming cabin cruiser tied up at the near side of the concrete pier. She hadn’t heard a boat approaching, but the thick mist and the sound of the rolling stones might have been enough to mask any engine noise. Or it might have been there all along. Small waves rocked the white hull gently from side to side. No one seemed to be aboard.
Nora felt a cold chill down her arms. She climbed the hill where the pier was attached to the harbor side, and Elizabeth followed. Before venturing out onto the narrow concrete jetty, she turned. “Stay right there, Lizzabet. Don’t move.”
The boat was twenty-five feet at least, with a cabin belowdecks and a powerful inboard motor that wouldn’t have made a lot of noise coming in. Why had someone just abandoned it here? She glanced back at Elizabeth and reached for the walkie-talkie, hoping she remembered Cormac’s instructions on how to work it.
“Cormac—come in. Are you there?” She crept closer to the boat, expecting a head to emerge any moment from below.
His voice came crackling through the speaker. “What’s happening, Nora? Where are you?”
“At Port na Rón. There’s a boat tied up at the pier, but I can’t see anyone around. You haven’t heard from Devaney?”
“No. Maybe you should head back to the house—”
“I’m going to see if anyone’s below.”
“Nora, don’t—”
His voice cut out as she clipped the walkie-talkie to her belt, and started down the ladder at the side of the pier. “Stay there,” she called to Elizabeth. “I’ll be right back.”
Down on the level with the boat, she vaulted onto the deck over the gunwale. A pair of sunglasses lay on the ledge above the wheel, but there were no other obvious signs of occupancy. No keys in the ignition. She called down into the cabin through the open hatch door. “Hello—anyone here?” No answer. She unclipped the walkie-talkie and pressed the button to speak. “Cormac, are you still there?”
“What’s happening? Is everything all right?”
“There’s no one on the boat. Nobody around at all. It’s odd.”
“Listen, I’m coming up to Kilcar, and I’m calling Devaney right now. Will you please get out of there? Let me know as soon as you get back to the house.”
“I will—I promise.”
She clipped the walkie-talkie to her belt again and climbed up the ladder, stopping short at the sight that greeted her. Elizabeth stood at the far end of the pier, arms pinned behind her back. The person who held her was Miranda Staunton—the new Mrs. Hallett.
8
Miranda offered a chilly smile. “What’s the matter, Nora—not the person you expected? Take a step closer, and I’ll break her arms. Don’t tempt me.” Elizabeth caught a sharp breath as Miranda tugged at her elbows.
Nora raised her right hand, signaling her niece to keep still, while her left hand inched closer to the walkie-talkie at her waist. Miranda’s icy voice stopped her: “No, you don’t—drop it.”
There was no choice. Nora slid her thumb across the “talk” button as she lifted the walkie-talkie from her belt, and Cormac’s voice sounded through hissing static. “Nora? Nora—are you there?”
Miranda shook her head. “Too bad you can’t answer. Now kick that thing into the water. Do it!”
Nora tried nudging the walkie-talkie with her foot, hoping she could get it to land on the lower pier, but the rubber casing that rendered the bloody thing indestructible also made it bounce. The walkie-talkie landed in the water with a loud plop.
Miranda began to edge up the side of the ridge above the pier, keeping her eyes on Nora, and Elizabeth in front of her. Nora’s mind raced. If she could just buy some time—
“How on earth did you find us?
”
Miranda fumbled for Elizabeth’s backpack and held up a small disk attached to the zipper. “The wonders of modern technology—a GPS kid tracker. Turn-by-turn directions at the touch of a BlackBerry.”
“And you think Peter will be grateful when you bring Elizabeth back, is that it?”
Miranda’s voice was steel: “I didn’t come here to bring her back.” She continued: “Whose idea do you think it was to drag her along in the first place? Her father was going to leave her in Saint Paul. Of course the original plan didn’t include you, but now that we’re all here, I’m thinking this might actually work out for the best. The tragedy will just be compounded. Elizabeth will have an unfortunate accident, trying to escape from her kidnapper—that’s you—and then, in a fit of remorse, you’ll throw yourself onto the rocks. Or maybe you’ll just lose your footing—I haven’t decided. Sometimes it’s better to let things develop naturally.” She continued climbing backward up the hill, pulling Elizabeth along. The ground beneath their feet grew steeper with every step.
Nora knew she had to keep Miranda talking if they were to have any chance at all. “How can you think you’ll get away with this?”
Miranda stopped and beamed with malicious satisfaction. “You mean, besides the fact that I’ve gotten away with everything so far? Including your precious sister—”
Nora watched Elizabeth’s lips move soundlessly: Mama.
“You’re telling me Peter had nothing to do with Tríona’s death?”
“When are you going to get it through your thick skull, Nora? Peter couldn’t hurt a fly—that’s always been his problem. Fortunately, it’s a fault I’m willing to overlook.”
“You put that bottle under my brake pedal.”
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t ruin everything. For Chrissake, Nora, you left the car unlocked. It was practically an invitation.”
“And Natalie Russo? What about her?”
Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I knew there’d be trouble when somebody found poor Natalie. It was bound to happen. I just hoped I’d be far away by then. Thought she could knock me out of the trials—”
Miranda was approaching the top of the crag. She stood for a moment, slightly winded, still pinning Elizabeth’s arms behind her back.
“I don’t know how Tríona found out about Natalie, but she did. And she was going to make me pay. You have this idea that she was so perfect, but you don’t know what she was up to—the drugs, going down to the river, screwing her brains out every night. Did you know she threatened to accuse Peter of child abuse if she didn’t get what she wanted? She was planning to take him to the cleaners in the divorce. You have no idea what she was capable of.”
“You sent the note—to get her to meet you out in the woods that night.”
“What do you mean? She was the one who sent me a note about meeting at Hidden Falls.”
“What did you do with it?”
“With what?”
“The note, Miranda—what did you do with the note?”
“I stuck it in my pocket. What does it matter?”
Nora’s thoughts raced. The Galliard sweatshirt—it never belonged to Peter, it was Miranda’s. She’d dumped it after killing Tríona. But there were two notes, one in Harry Shaughnessy’s sweatshirt pocket and one Sotharith the fisherman picked up in the woods. Miranda thought Tríona had sent her the note, trying to blackmail her about Natalie—but Tríona had received an identical note, telling her to go to Hidden Falls, the place where she believed that she had killed Natalie—all at once, the horror of it began to crystallize.
Miranda was just a murder weapon, the blunt instrument Peter Hallett had wielded from a distance. The deviousness, the cunning of his plan almost took her breath away. But she had to speak. “I know how long you’ve loved him, Miranda. Since the beginning, long before he ever met Tríona. Peter knew it, too. He’s been taking advantage of you, using you this whole time. Did you never wonder why he changed? Why, after so many years of indifference, he suddenly took an interest in you? Because you were useful. You could solve a problem for him. I suppose he broke down a few times about Tríona, all the suffering she’d put him through. He depended on you—if only she were out of the way, he’d finally belong to you. But what’s going to happen when you become the problem, Miranda? Because sooner or later, you will. And you’ll disappear, just like my sister. You think he hasn’t got it all worked out? He’s way ahead of you, Miranda. He’s been ahead of us all for years.”
“Be quiet.”
“He lied about Tríona. Nothing he told you about her was true. He made up all kinds of outrageous stories to egg you on. Somehow he knew about Natalie—maybe he was out running when he saw you attack her at the river. That was when he knew he could use you. He took the clothes you dumped that morning and put Natalie’s blood all over Tríona. Convinced her that she had something to do with Natalie’s murder. He sent her a note that said, I know what you did. The same as the note he sent you. All he had to do then was to sit back and watch. Tríona went to the river that night because she was terrified that she had killed Natalie. Because he’d taken away her self-respect. He made her believe it. Peter has been watching you, and using you for years, Miranda. Can’t you see that?”
Miranda’s voice was cold. “I told you to stop talking.” She pulled a flare gun from her waistband and pointed it at Elizabeth’s head. “Not another word.”
They continued to edge upward, and Miranda’s foothold on the small ridges grew increasingly precarious. Nora stayed silent. She forced herself to keep from focusing on the muzzle pressed to Elizabeth’s temple, and looked instead into the child’s frightened eyes. Don’t speak, Lizzabet, she urged silently. Keep still—
Without warning, Miranda’s right foot went from under her. This was their only chance.
Seizing Elizabeth by the hand, Nora pushed the child ahead of her, shouting: “Keep going up! Don’t look down, just keep going. Go!” She followed, feeling for footholds, struggling to keep from slipping down the steep incline. As a cloud of mist began to envelop the headland, Nora knew that Miranda was close behind, but the only sounds she could hear were her own ragged breathing and the pulse of the surf below.
After a few seconds, she felt Miranda’s fingers grasp at her ankle. “Keep going,” she urged Elizabeth. “Don’t stop!” Giving a sharp thrust downward, Nora heard a cry as her foot made contact with some part of Miranda’s body. “Not much farther,” she shouted upward again. “Keep going. Can you see the top?”
Through the mist she saw a pair of legs cantilever out for a few seconds, and then disappear from view. “Run back to the house, Elizabeth. Find Cormac.”
Reaching the top a few seconds later, Nora heaved herself up over the edge and staggered to her feet, scrabbling up the gravel wash where Elizabeth had fled. She hadn’t gone more than ten yards when Miranda tackled her from behind. They rolled down the steep incline, until Nora’s head and arms dangled over the edge. The wind had come up, and now waves below churned violently.
9
Nora was pinned, with Miranda astride her, holding a stone in both hands above her head. She grabbed for Miranda’s wrists, trying to keep the deadly weapon at arm’s length. They struggled, and finally, with a sharp twist, Nora pushed Miranda aside and scrambled to her feet. She raced for the top of the hill, but again Miranda came from behind and lunged at her, sending them both sprawling down the rocky bed of scree. They struggled to their feet, hanging on to one another, banged up and breathing heavily, like grapplers in a ring. A voice sounded above them: “Miranda—what are you doing?”
They both looked up to see Peter at the top of the ridge. He came skidding down the loose stones, nearly losing his balance. “What’s going on?”
Nora knew she only had one more chance. She took Miranda by the shoulders. “Tell me—do you ever wake up and not remember what happened?”
Peter cut in: “Miranda, don’t listen to that�
�”
But Nora could see that her question had struck home, and she kept talking. “How many times has it happened? Once, twice—more? That’s GHB—liquid ecstasy—you can’t remember anything. He’s already turned on you, Miranda. Just like he turned on Tríona.”
“That’s a lie, Miranda. You know how she twists everything—” Peter began to inch forward, but Miranda raised a hand to warn him off.
“Shut up—just shut up, both of you!”
No one spoke. Nora’s left foot, bracing against the rim of the precipice, began to tremble. She glanced down as a few small pebbles tumbled off the edge and disappeared.
Miranda spoke: “That stuff—how does it make you feel?”
“Ready to fuck anything. And then it makes you sleep—”
Peter had begun to edge closer. Nora looked into his eyes and saw the same expression she’d seen there the morning after Tríona’s murder. He was perfectly calm. A person might even imagine that he was enjoying himself. And why shouldn’t he, when his two biggest troubles were about to take care of each other? He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was about to triumph yet again.
Nora suddenly stopped struggling. She felt so outrageously tired. “Go ahead,” she said to Miranda. “Push me. See what happens. He’ll tell the police he tried to stop you. You’ll go down for murder, and he’ll be rid of us both. That’s what he really wants.” She started to pull Miranda closer to the edge. “It would be even more convenient if we went down together.” Miranda’s feet were skidding along the gravel bed as Nora pulled her along.
“Peter—help me! She’s trying to kill me!”
But Peter kept his distance, as Nora knew he would. “Miranda, don’t try anything foolish.”
Nora could see the fear in Miranda’s eyes. “He wants you to try something foolish, don’t you see? That’s exactly what he wants. Whatever happens here, he’s sitting pretty, rid of us both—just like that.”
