"But he didn't mean to. He panicked. After you..."
Vinny looks at me and arches one eyebrow.
"That what he told you?" He says.
I don't answer, instead I just nod.
"Didn't look to me much like he panicked. Looked more like he decided to leave me there to get picked up by the cops." He grins again. "But what he don't know is, I've got a good set of lungs on me. I had to run my way out of there, but I made it." Then Vinny's voice turns dark.
"What else'd Tucker say he did?"
I think for a moment, not understanding. But then I work it out.
"He took the jewelry. That you stole from the store in Hounds Beach."
"Yes he did that too." Vinny turns to me. "And now I'm going to get it back."
Right now we get to the turn off for Littlelea. I think that maybe I could just ignore it and we'll drive right past. But then we'll end up in Silverlea so that's no good. And anyway the turn off is clearly marked with a sign.
"Littlelea," he reads. "Should I be taking this turn?"
I nod.
I have a sudden idea. I don't know if it's a good idea, I don't have time to even think about it. The words come out of my mouth before I get the chance.
"I know where the jewelry is." I say.
For a second I think that maybe Vinny didn't hear, and I'm actually relieved because, obviously I don't know where the jewelry is, nor how it would even help much if I did. But then he turns to me, his eyebrow arched again.
"How's that then?"
And now he’s said that I have to go through with it.
"He hid it. I saw him hide it. In the rocks, down by the beach where we live. When he first got here. That's why I was suspicious of him. That's why I took his phone."
Vinny seems to think about this for a long time, so I keep going. I’m still not sure exactly where this is going, but I’m committed now.
"I can take you to it. Tucker will never tell you where it is. If you kill him, you’ll never find it. But you can have it, you can have it now." I point in front of us, at the road that leads down to the Littlelea end of Silverlea beach. It's at the foot of the cliff where our house is. There's nothing there but a dirt parking lot and the beach.
“I can make Tucker talk easy enough.”
“Yeah but you don’t need to. I can take you to the jewelry now. It’s gold, I’ve seen it.” Obviously I haven’t, but I remember Tucker saying what it was. The mention of gold seems to work.
"He hid it?"
"Yeah. I guess he didn't think it was safe to keep it in the house."
We're almost at the turning now, and I think that Vinny is going to drive right by. Suddenly I'm desperate for him not too. It's not much of a plan that I've got, but it's better than nothing, and right now, nothing is the alternative. But it seems he senses it's a trap. We're level with the turning, and then we drive right by, his head cocked over, looking at me. But then he slows down.
"You better not be messing with me Billy. Like I said, I can find Tucker with or without you. I don't need you alive."
He stops the car, and then very calmly he slips it into reverse and backs up till he's level with the turn again. Then he looks at me again, a questioning look. I just nod. Then he turns the steering wheel and we set off again, rolling down towards the parking lot at Littlelea beach.
I try to think through what I’m doing. It wasn't a whole plan exactly, to bring him here. It was just a sense of something, I’m not sure what. Then I kind of work it out. It was when he didn't know where Littlelea was. He doesn't know the island. He doesn’t know the beach. And I do. I know it better than anyone. So if I can get him onto the beach, then maybe I can lose him there. If I can get him into the rocks. I know every boulder, every crack of our cliffs. Quickly I decide where I'll pretend Tucker hid the jewelry, and then work out the quickest way from there up the cliff. If I'm lucky I'll be able to catch Dad and Tucker before they leave for the ferry. We can all get away. And work out what to do after that.
"Seems quite a public place to hide a bag of gold chains." Vinny says. He’s stopped the car just before the entrance to the parking lot. It’s empty, but there’s space for maybe forty cars when it gets busy mid-summer. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Not really." I reply. "Hardly anyone ever comes here." I can feel my body filling up with adrenalin, getting ready for when I run. I'm desperate for him to let me out.
"Just park at the front. We have to walk to get there."
I feel him staring at me for a long time, suspicious as hell, but then we roll forward again and he parks where I said. Then he's first to get out. He looks around, scanning the little river that runs by the parking lot. At the steep cliff behind it. It's easy to cross the river since it breaks up into multiple streams when it hits the beach, each one studded with rocks. That’s where we’ll cross, I decide.
I get out the car too. Trying to make myself sound confident.
"It's this way. Down by the beach."
I sense he's more cautious here than he was in the car or the woods. He moves close behind me, and I feel the gun press into my back again. But he's doing it differently now, like he's trying to hide it, in case we see anyone. But that’s unlikely this late in the season.
"So where we headed?"
I point about a third of the way down the beach, where hundreds of rocks of all sizes lay piled about and half-buried in the low-tide sand. I know every last one of them.
"Over there," I say, and keep walking. Vinny doesn't reply.
I lead him across the river, jumping across from one flat stone to another. Sometimes when tourists do come here they dam the river, or storm waves move the rocks, so that it's hard to cross, but I always come and put them back afterwards. I hear Vinny behind me swear, and turn to see him put a foot into the water. It gives me a jolt of confidence. He doesn’t know the beach. I can lose him here.
Once over the river there's just a short stretch of sand before we get to the base of the cliff. You can't see my house from here, it stands too far back from the cliff top, but it's just above us now. I make a silent prayer that Dad hasn't left already.
"Kid are you messing with me?" Vinny asks. "'Coz if you’re messing…"
"No, I’m not, I promise. It's just up ahead. He had to hide it above the high-tide line," I interrupt him. I turn a little so that I'm heading back up the beach, towards the area where short grasses partly cover the rocks. The sea never gets in here, but you still get cliff falls, so there’s lots of boulders scattered around. I aim for the middle of them and prepare myself to run.
But now that I'm here, my idea doesn't seem so clever after all. I assumed that Vinny would just be following behind me, but actually he's actually holding me, with one hand on my shoulder, and the gun still pressed into the small of my back. I thought that when I got here I'd be able to run, and do it quickly enough so that I could shelter behind a rock before he could shoot me. Now I realize that's impossible. I try to shake him loose, just a little bit, making out I need his weight off me to help me balance, but he just grips me tighter.
We reach the rock I was aiming for. We start to walk behind it. My plan was to run from here, but there's no chance.
"So?" Vinny says when I stop. "Where is it?" I can tell from his tone he's almost at the point of flat-out not believing me, so I look around, desperate for anything that's going to help. I see stones on the floor, maybe I could pick one up and hit him with it? But he’s twice the size of me, with a gun pressed into my kidneys. It’s not going to work.
Then I see something – a piece of dried seaweed. It's not a lot, but it gives me a half-plan.
Casually I turn the piece of seaweed over with my foot. "I got it wrong," I tell him. "It's not this rock, it's that one." I point a little further down the beach, this time towards one of the bigger and most distinctive rocks structures on the beach, a sheer-faced slab that connects the cliff to the sand at forty five degrees, like a tennis court that’s been
tipped on its side. I hold my breath, praying he won't see what I’m thinking. "I'm sorry."
He doesn't react at first, but then I feel myself spun around, and he jabs the gun into my face.
"Last chance Billy boy," his teeth flash white in the sunshine, but it's a grimace now rather than a smile. "Or you’re gonna be fish food."
We walk on, with Vinny gripping me even tighter than before, so there's no way to escape. I realize now he saw this coming. But this time I lead him more purposefully. The rocks we’re headed to was one of my favorites, growing up. I used to have a rope tied to the top, so I could climb up, pretending to be a famous rock climber. Only it was difficult in some parts because you get so much seaweed growing on the rock. Actually you get different types of seaweed as you go higher, because the tide covers the lower part for longer. Some of the seaweeds are easy to see, but others are translucent, so you can’t see them. But they're just as slippery.
We get to the base of the rock now where it disappears under the sand. At the top, where it connects into the cliff, there's a shelf of grass. It's actually not that bad a place to hide jewelry. I can sense Vinny's interest in it.
"It's up there." I say, pointing at the ledge. For a second he releases me, and I wonder if this is my moment, but I'm not quick enough, and the gun is pressed into my stomach.
"You have to climb up," I continue.
"Well OK then." Vinny says.
So I turn and put one foot carefully on the bottom of the rock slope.
"It's slippery," I tell him. "Be careful." But I don't tell him how to climb it.
The lower part of the slope is covered with bladderwrack. The best technique here is to find the limpets. They grip onto the rock like little pyramids, and you can use them as footholds and handholds. My feet find a couple now, almost automatically, and I scale the first bit easily. I turn to see Vinny is coming up behind me, but he's struggling trying to hold the gun and see what he's doing. I move a bit faster, accelerating higher and away from him. The limpets don't reach higher up and the bladderwrack gives way to the translucent seaweed. Its real name is Ulva something or other, but I used to call it Witches Paper seaweed because it's white when it's dry and nearly invisible when it gets wet. You can only really climb the dry bits, and I'm lucky because there's just enough patches of white left for me to climb to the top.
The other thing I used to do, when I was a kid, is slide down on the Witches Paper. You need a bit of rock that doesn't have barnacles or limpets, because otherwise you can really hurt yourself, so I never did it right here. But that isn't going to stop me now. I look back down the way I've just climbed. I'm ten meters up from the sand now, and nearly at the ledge where I'm pretending the jewelry is hidden. But I can't let us reach it, because if we do it'll be obvious I've been lying and there's nowhere else to go. So I take a deep breath. Vinny is about five meters below me, just getting to the top of the bladderwrack part of the slope, and he seems to be concentrating more on the climb than he does on me. If I'm going to do it, it has to be now.
With a scream that I don't intend I suddenly launch myself back down the slippery translucent seaweed and right towards Vinny. He looks up, and I see him raise his arm, not to shoot, but just to protect himself as I come sliding down towards him, but he doesn't have time. I hit him with my feet and then we're both falling and sliding the remaining way down the slope. I feel sharp pains as I'm dragged over patches of barnacles and the limpets. And seconds later we're tangled back together on the beach.
Vinny starts to shout something but I don't wait to listen. I'm already on my feet and running.
Fifty-Nine
When I had this plan I envisioned myself running so fast it would feel like flying, but now it’s happening it’s more like running in slow motion. I can't make my arms and legs move properly, and I feel this paralyzing terror that I'm going to be cut down by a bullet any moment. But it doesn't come, and when I turn a corner I get some relief. There's solid rock between me and Vinny, with his gun.
I feel the protection it gives me, cutting off the murderous bullets. I keep running, my legs pounding over the sand, and I speed up now. My feet start dancing over the rocks as I come to them. I've clambered these rocks so many times I know every angle, every solid step and every rock to avoid walking on because it moves or because it's coated in slippery weed. My leg hurts, and I glimpse red – blood – from where I must have caught it on something sliding down the rock face. But I don't care. I don't feel any pain.
I keep moving, my feet a blur, towards the cliff path. It's been closed for years because the steps cut into the rock have collapsed in places, but I've always used it. It's my path. It comes out at the top right by our house. The bottom of the path is fifty meters away. I’m going to get there.
But to my amazement, and horror, I'm not leaving Vinny behind like I thought I could. He's fast, really fast. At first I hear him shouting, but then he goes silent and I just catch the occasional hit of feet on sand or the splash as he jumps through the rockpools. Twice I glance behind me and I'm shocked at how close he is. I see the look of hard concentration on his face. I turn back, and try to run faster still, nearly at the base of the cliff path now. And for a moment there's near silence, just the sounds of the two of us panting and running through the rocky shore.
When I get to the path I can hear he's closer. Just a few meters behind me now. I realize he could stop at any moment and line up a shot, and I think the only reason he doesn't is because he knows he's going to catch me. Up ahead the path cuts up the cliff in a series of stepped zigzags, and there's no shelter at all, not until higher up where brambles offer some protection. I flash past the sign saying Danger, path closed. I wonder for a second if that might slow him down, but I know it won't.
When I hit the slope I slow, you can't help it when you start going uphill, and Vinny closes still further until we're both climbing, him only an arms' length below me. He's so fast, it's moments before he's going to catch me. But in my haste to climb I'm loosening stones and small rocks and sending them cascading down the cliff behind me. And now Vinny has to deal with those as well as scrambling up the uneven steps. I do my best to loosen more as I go up, and for a few seconds the gap between us even widens a little. But then I hear Vinny let out a roar of rage. Then he must accelerate again because I sense him, getting closer and closer behind me. I'm not even a third of the way up the cliff before I feel his hand catching on my leg. I try to shake it off, but it tightens around me, pulling me to the ground. Gripping me hard.
I roll onto my back, and dig my hands into the dirt trying to stay where I am, and then I arch my foot to release it, and for a second he's left holding my shoe, and he slips a meter down the slope with it. Then he growls again, and he tosses the shoe. I see it bounce down the slope below him.
Then I see Vinny start moving up towards me again, but this time I'm ready for him. I push my palms into the earth to anchor myself, and tense my legs. As Vinny reaches me I kick out, hitting his face with my one remaining shoe. I see his chin jerk to the side as I connect, and he yells out in rage. I try to do it again, but miss this time, so instead I kick at his hand with my foot, while I scrape earth into my hands. He slips back and I crawl backwards up the cliff a few more yards. For a moment we both stop.
"You fucking little shit," He snarls, feeling his jaw. “You’re dead.” And then he awkwardly pulls the gun up in front of him. There’s no hesitation, but his face changes as he goes to pull the trigger, but as he does I scream and fling the handful of grit and stones from the path towards his eyes.
I don't wait. I hear him scream, and as I'm turning I see the dirt spraying into his face. But then I turn and again, upwards towards the top of the cliff, my house, and to where I'm praying my Dad hasn't left yet.
Sixty
This time I open out a lead. When I scramble over the top of the path, onto the cliff top, I can't even see him behind me. I feel my leg hurting, and now my shoulder too, but the adrenalin is strong
enough that they're hardly slowing me. Below me, not far below, I hear him coming again.
I only have one shoe on now, and my sock slips on the grass, giving me a lopsided limp. I'm exhausted. I want to stop to get some air, but I daren't. I stumble along the cliff top towards the house, and there, I see Dad's truck is still parked in the driveway. They haven't left yet. I feel a massive rush of relief. I try to shout out but I have no breath.
And then I see the front door of the house open and Dad step out. He's carrying Tucker's bag, and he swings it into the back of his truck. Then he turns back to the house.
"Dad!" I try to call out, but I'm so short of breath, no sound comes out. He doesn't hear me. It's like a bad dream. I start to feel the space behind me, where I know Vinny will appear at any moment. I have to cross open ground before I get to the house, there's no shelter to protect me from bullets.
But then something makes him turn – maybe the movement of me waving my arms – and he sees me. His face is confused. He waits a few beats, as I close the gap towards him, desperately waving my arms at him.
"Billy? What the hell are you doing here?" He steps forward, to get to me, moving himself out into the open.
"He's here. Vinny's here. He's got a gun!" I try to say, but the words don't come out loud. I so out of breath.
"I'm just taking Tucker to the ferry," Dad says, moving forward still further, half-smiling in confusing. "Why aren't you in school..?"
I wave my arms again, trying to make his step back. Finally he notices that something's wrong. "Hey? What happened to your leg? You're bleeding..."
I reach him now and just crash into him, pushing him back so at least we're behind the truck. Vinny must have got to the top of the cliff by now. I can feel him lining up a shot. But Dad resists me. I try to speak again, desperately sucking in air so I can form the words.
"We've got..." I pant. "Move... We've got to..."
The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 23