by Kate Rhodes
Naomi’s gaze flickers when she looks at me again.
‘You tied those ropes round your wrists. That’s why you could undo them so easily. It was you who put a brick through the Nickells’ window, and stole their child.’
‘That’s a mad thing to say.’
‘You wanted to frame Martin for killing Rogan. Your whole abduction, to get even. I bet it hurt like hell, wounding yourself. Did you run into a wall?’
‘How could I injure myself like this? I’d never do something that stupid.’
‘You took a man’s life and destroyed your own home to make your ex look guilty. It must have kept you busy, chasing round the island, setting flares.’
‘That’s rubbish.’
‘Your world’s fallen apart. Tolman rejected you, your sculptures are less popular than before. Buying that old mansion took all your money, didn’t it? I bet your finances are at rock bottom. This would give you a massive insurance pay out and put him behind bars.’
‘Shut up, for fuck’s sake.’
‘No one on St Agnes would hurt you or Alex Rogan. The islanders welcome visitors; without them, they wouldn’t survive. But it beats me how you dragged a grown man up the hill on Burnt Island.’
She gives a mocking laugh and her manner changes, pretences suddenly dropping away. ‘I didn’t have to force him, believe me.’
My breath catches in my throat; until now I’ve been following a hunch, but Naomi has just confirmed my theory. I hold my breath when she lays the baby down beside me. If I push too hard, Lottie will suffer worst. When Naomi grabs one of the paraffin cans, I barely have time to shut my eyes before liquid pours over me, saturating my hair, skin and clothes. Its burning tang makes my throat convulse.
‘Think of the baby, for Christ’s sake,’ I say, choking out the words.
‘Remember, I’ve got a lighter in my pocket.’ She delivers a hard kick to my ribs.
‘You’d never escape in time. Is that what you want, after seeing Rogan burn?’
‘We’d all have lived if you hadn’t guessed. I gave you just enough Rohypnol to put you out of action for a short time. You’d have recovered and I could have carried on with my work.’
‘You’ve left DNA evidence all over the island; they’d only need to fingerprint you to join all the dots. I want to know how Alex died.’
‘Shut up and let me think.’
I’m praying that Eddie has figured out I’m trapped on Gugh and has sent a rescue party. Naomi’s face is rigid with tension as she considers her options; she’s pulled her lighter from her pocket, gripping it in her hand.
‘You want the baby dead too?’
‘I’m not going to jail. I’ve spent enough time locked up in places where no one gives a damn.’
Lottie is gurgling quietly to herself, one small hand clutching the edge of her blanket. Her only chance of survival rests on me keeping Vine distracted.
‘Why not explain it to me, Naomi? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I don’t have to justify myself.’ She’s growing more agitated, running her thumb across the switch on her lighter.
‘At least put Lottie outside where Eddie can find her.’
‘She’s coming with me when I die. Her pure spirit will cancel out my mistakes.’ Her gaze goes out of focus, her injured face crumpling. ‘Martin wanted us to have a family, but I missed my chance.’
‘You could have found someone else.’
‘No one will honour my legacy now, because of you.’ She spits out the words, then lifts the lighter in the air, ready for us all to burn. I have to work hard to force a smile onto my face.
‘Not yet, Naomi. This is our last chance to talk.’
Vine’s hand hovers in the air, then she kneels beside me, her face inches from mine. I still lack the strength to lunge for the key, so I listen to her murmur, with a rising sense of horror. There’s glee in her tone as she describes the fire that ravaged Alex Rogan’s body.
60
Jimmy tries to explain that Naomi is in danger, but Pendennis just shakes his head. The old boxing coach tells him he must have his shoulder strapped, to prevent muscle damage. Jimmy soon tires of his droning voice, getting to his feet when the man’s back is turned. He blunders outside, running up Kittern Hill, with Keith Pendennis trailing behind. The dawn chorus is deafening as gulls and terns swoop inland, but their song is hard to interpret. Does it mean that his friend is dead or alive? The cottage looks peaceful when he finally comes to a halt and Pendennis turns to face him.
‘It’s empty. Whatever scared you has gone away.’
Jimmy points at the house again, but the fitness coach shakes his head.
‘Only Rachel Carlyon has a key.’
Jimmy stares at him for a moment, then picks up a stone and hurls it at a ground floor window. The older man reacts fast when the pane explodes into fragments: he grabs the Birdman’s arm, bracing it at his side.
‘What the fuck are you doing? That’s someone’s property. You’ll have to pay for the damage.’
Jimmy tries to wrench free, determined to enter the cottage, even though his wounded shoulder is burning. He uses all of his strength to free himself, but Pendennis pins him down.
61
The sound of glass shattering brings panic to Naomi’s face, and time is running out to save the child. I roll forwards to grab the key, knocking the sculptor off her feet, the lighter still clutched in her fist. The mad gleam in her eye lets me know she’s past caring whether we live or die.
‘We can still walk free, Naomi.’
‘I told you, I’m not going to prison.’
My movements are shaky as I lunge forwards. She flicks her lighter before I can knock it from her hand. A wave of flames race through the air as the vapour ignites. I grab Lottie from the floor while Naomi waits for fire to wash over her. She seems happy to die, but I won’t give her the pleasure. The woman kicks and punches as I haul her across the room. The space is already filling with toxic smoke that presses in from the walls; my limbs are still so weakened by Rohypnol that the key drops from my fingers.
I reach down to find it, but flames have already engulfed the floor. There’s a searing pain in my arm as I shield Lottie against my chest. It’s getting hard to breathe, the smoke making my eyes stream. Vine has changed her mind now the fire’s blazing. She’s clawing my back, no longer willing to play Joan of Arc. She’d happily walk over my carcass to escape this place alive. When I throw myself at the door, the hinge stays intact. The wood finally splinters as I ram my body weight against it for the third time.
My first concern is for the baby, but I haul Vine into the living room then slam the door to contain the fire. Lottie is limp in my arms as I strip off my shirt, the fabric still aflame when it hits the tiled floor. I yank the blanket away from Lottie’s face. Her eyes are shut and I can’t tell whether she’s breathing; she must have inhaled too much smoke, her small lungs struggling to cope. I’m still crouching beside her when the Birdman claws his way through a broken window, oblivious to my presence, his gaze fixed on Naomi Vine.
62
Jimmy ignores Pendennis’s shouted warnings. He hurries across the room, Naomi’s thin frame blending with the memory of his sister as he takes her hand. Her clothes have burned to tatters, raw wounds on her skin, but her chest is rising and falling steadily.
Kitto is yelling at him, and smoke is gushing into the room. From the corner of his eye Jimmy can see the cop breathing into the baby’s mouth, but he stays focused on his task. He wets a towel under the kitchen tap. Vine cries out in pain as he wipes her face with small, dabbing movements, as if he were tending a wounded bird. His mind fills with relief when her eyes open, even though her expression is pained. She’ll survive, and he won’t have to dream of her, like his sister, lost under a sea of flames. Jimmy is so focused on nursing her that he barely hears the policeman yelling at him.
‘Get out of here, while you can.’
The man’s urgent tone brings Jimmy to his
feet. He helps to lift Vine through the broken window, not caring how much his shoulder hurts. He’s still smiling with relief when the pure morning light touches his face.
63
Fear hits me like a sledgehammer when we get outside. The baby’s skin is pale blue, her eyes closed, even though I’ve been breathing air into her lungs. Someone shouts my name but nothing matters except keeping Lottie alive. I press one finger against the side of her neck and feel nothing, until a weak pulse beats against my skin. She makes a choking sound, then colour floods back into her cheeks.
‘Thank God for that.’
I cradle her against my chest as Keith Pendennis approaches. He looks incredulous when I explain that Vine is the killer; we must stand guard until she’s locked in a holding cell on St Mary’s. The woman lying on the wet grass looks too frail to harm anyone, her lower legs covered in burns, a dark line of bruises marking her face. The reality of her situation seems to have hit home at last. She’s curled in a foetal position, eyes screwed shut to avoid picturing her future.
When I rise to my feet, Shadow is tearing up the hill, with Eddie sprinting behind. My deputy’s face looks stricken when he sees me clutching Lottie.
‘She’s okay, but we need to get her to hospital.’
He seizes his daughter from my arms and relief floods through me when the child releases a thin wail. If she can cry, she must be breathing more easily. By now the pain is starting to register; the skin on my forearm has blistered away from my hand to my elbow, but I’m lucky to be alive. If I’d spent more time in that locked room, none of us would have escaped.
I’m still in a daze when I see Liam Poldean and Mike Walbert crossing the channel in a small boat loaded with fire-fighting equipment, but it could be too late to save the cottage. Smoke and flames are already gushing from the ground floor windows; there’s little chance the volunteer fire crew can contain the damage, especially as the tide is still too deep to bring the water tank across from St Agnes with Mike’s tractor. The police launch is anchored by the shore at the foot of the hill. Lawrie Deane and Keith Pendennis carry Vine down to the waiting vessel, while Eddie tends his baby. Someone wraps a silver blanket around my shoulders once we reach the boat, but the cold air feels soothing after the flames, the pain flaring through my nerve endings.
The boat heads for Hugh Town at its highest speed, a long strand of wash churning behind us. At last the wind has dropped, the storm finally relenting. The sea is bathed in clear light as we ease into St Mary’s Sound. When I look back, Jimmy Curwen is watching us leave, but he’s not alone; a swirl of gulls dance above his head as he walks blank-faced towards Liam and Mike’s boat. It hits me again that I made a serious mistake; Jimmy would never set out to hurt anyone, unless they were attacking the creatures he considers to be his closest friends.
I can’t absorb all the information Eddie gives me as the boat scuds over the waves. He’s gazing down at his daughter, but it sounds like he spent hours going from house to house, until Shadow led him to Covean Beach. The dog is curled at my feet, half-asleep, as if it’s all in a day’s work.
Naomi Vine is blank-faced when she’s carried to the ambulance on Hugh Town quay, refusing to say a word. I’d rather not share the confined space, but I won’t leave her unguarded after the trouble she’s caused. Normally I’m allergic to hospitals, but it’s good to arrive in a clean environment, where the air smells of disinfectant instead of paraffin. I’ve known the doctor who examines me all my life. Ginny Tremayne gave me all my inoculations as a kid, and doled out free condoms at my secondary school with an amused look on her face. The medic’s salt-and-pepper hair is drawn back in a loose ponytail when she inspects my wounds.
‘You’ll need some Novocain before I dress that burn, Ben. It’ll make you feel a bit woozy.’
‘No, thanks. I’ve had enough drugs to last me a lifetime.’
A look of concern crosses her face when I explain about my dose of Rohypnol. Tremayne examines my eyes with a torch pen then makes me recite the alphabet, before checking the state of my tongue. ‘No lasting damage, but that burn needs cleaning fast. Are you sure about the local anaesthetic? It’ll hurt like hell otherwise.’
‘I’ll grin and bear it, Ginny.’
‘I thought you were too smart to be macho.’ She gives me a gentle smile. ‘Curse all you like, the room’s sound-proofed.’
She takes ages swabbing my wound, then covering it with gauze. I’ve been sitting in the chair so long, pain and exhaustion have levelled me, but Naomi Vine’s mad speech is still ringing in my ears. I need a full confession to lay the case to rest.
‘Can I go now? There’s work to do.’
Tremayne gapes at me. ‘You’ll be here two days at least. I’m treating you for shock, and that wound needs to be kept surgically clean or you’ll need a graft. You don’t want that, do you?’
The doctor’s manner is so firm there’s no point in arguing, so I let her lead me to one of the minute hospital’s rooms, resenting her instruction to lie down. I’m certain there’ll be no rest with the buzz of voices outside and the clatter of feet marching down the corridor, but my eyes close anyway, a tidal wave of sleep washing over me.
When I surface again, it’s from a vicious nightmare. I dreamed that the sky was lit by huge fireworks, while St Agnes burned, but my real surroundings are calm. The room is in semi-darkness and a figure is seated by the door, his overcoat neatly folded on his lap, not a hair out of place. DCI Madron pulls his chair closer when he sees my eyes opening.
‘You’ve slept all day, Kitto,’ he says quietly. ‘Your fan club’s been here, bearing gifts. Your uncle brought you a radio, Zoe Morrow left some brandy, and there’s a book from Liz Gannick. Maggie’s just outside, chatting to the nurses.’
‘There’s no need for fuss, sir. I’m fine.’
‘You even slept through the nurses changing your dressings. They’re pleased, by the way. The scarring should be minimal.’
‘How’s Lottie?’
‘The baby needed some oxygen, but she’s fine. Eddie and Michelle took her home earlier.’
‘And Naomi Vine?’
‘The morphine’s loosened her tongue. I’ve taken a statement from her already.’
‘She killed Rogan and staged her own abduction to frame Tolman, didn’t she? It satisfied all her needs. She wanted the boathouse as her gallery and to punish her ex for rejecting her.’
‘It looks that way,’ Madron replies with a slow nod.
She arranged the meeting the night before Rogan disappeared, said she’d had a change of heart about his observatory plans and had decided to finance the whole thing. She even made him promise not to tell his wife until they’d thrashed out the details, so it could be a big surprise for the community. He mentioned that he was going to the mainland that night at her house, which gave her the perfect opportunity. She lured Rogan onto Burnt Island, then shoved him into the fire while he was drugged.’
‘How did she get him there?’
‘She pretended to be so excited about the new observatory she wanted to plan the rebuild immediately, fed him a line about Burnt Island being the best vantage point, and begged him to take a quick look with her first thing in the morning, before his boat left.’
‘And Jimmy Curwen had nothing to do with Rogan’s death.’
‘He must have dropped his coat at the scene. I imagine he wanted to put out the flames.’ Madron looks down at his hands. ‘The burning body would have been a terrible sight.’
‘Why did she want to punish her ex so badly?’
‘She’ll need a full psychiatric assessment, but a specialist on the mainland thinks she’s got narcissistic personality disorder. Naomi attacks anyone that gets in her way. Martin Tolman and Alex Rogan was obstructing destiny, in her view. Her campaign began soon after she arrived on St Agnes. Apparently she took an immediate dislike to Gavin Carlyon; she tampered with the fireworks before last year’s display, which explains his injury. The youth courts will have to r
etract Adam Helston’s arson conviction, too. I imagine his parents will be thrilled to hear that their boy never started the fire at the Walberts’ place, and they’ll sue for a big compensation claim. She set light to their barn as practice for greater things to come.’
‘What about the Cornish messages?’
‘That was clever, wasn’t it? She wanted us to believe that an islander hated outsiders enough to kill them, so she bought a book of local words and phrases on the mainland. The language became one of her obsessions. She hid the stones and seashells she used at the crime scenes at the Carlyons’ house, in case her own property was searched.’
‘Did Rachel know?’
‘She’s claiming innocence. Vine says she stole the keys to the holiday cottage from Rachel’s house, but she could be lying. The woman seems to have had a hypnotic effect on some of the islanders.’
Madron pulls his chair closer, and for once the anger between us drops away. ‘You did well, Kitto. Your approach was unorthodox, but your commitment’s exceptional. Eddie’s got you to thank for bringing his baby home alive.’
‘I made mistakes, took too long getting there.’
‘You race at things, Kitto. It wouldn’t hurt to slow down.’
‘Why do you criticise me all the time?’
His smile fades. ‘Did you ever hear about my oldest son?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Tom was young and impetuous, like you, immune to advice. He was training to be a pilot, but he died in a motorbike crash before his thirtieth birthday.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’
The DCI shakes his head. ‘I chose the right man for the job. Liz Gannick tells me you’re a natural leader; she’s hinting that her partnership report will be favourable.’
Madron says a brisk goodbye then exits the room, leaving me closer to understanding why he always finds fault. I take time remembering his low-key praise. Words of encouragement slip from his mouth so rarely, I should have made him write them down so I could get a tattoo.