by Rona Halsall
He scowled at her. ‘No. You’re staying there.’
He fiddled with the phone in his hands for a few moments, then laughed. ‘You know what’s funny? Dan thinks that the money will be the end of it.’ Moonlight glinted in his eyes. ‘Stupid man. I don’t really want his money. I just want to see him suffer, watch him experience a little bit of what I’ve been through. But just as important, I need to see justice done.’ He nodded. ‘What he doesn’t know is that I hired this boat in his name, with a credit card that also has his name on it.’
Chloe frowned as he carried on speaking, wondering how that was possible.
He seemed to read her mind. ‘Oh yes, amazing what you can get when you know the right people. Those with contacts on the dark web. Your husband will not only have lost his lovely new wife and all his money, he’s going to be banged up for murder as well. Which is exactly what should have happened six years ago.’
Chloe could see the flaws in this plan but kept her mouth shut, hoping that Dan had contacted the police, that they were trying to locate Liam’s phone at this very moment. The longer it took for Dan to ring back, she reasoned, the more likely it was that help was on its way.
What can I do to keep him distracted? Her mind scurried around, looking for ideas, and she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.
‘But you don’t look anything like Dan. They’ll know it wasn’t him.’ Arguing was the only thing she could think of, and by the expression on his face, it wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.
‘You think I’m stupid, don’t you?’ he snarled.
‘No, no, I don’t. I really don’t.’ She cringed as he stepped towards her, bracing herself for pain.
But he didn’t strike out. Instead, he pulled a wallet from his pocket and showed her the card. ‘See? And you can do everything on the internet these days.’
‘Yes, but…’ Her scientific mind flagged up all the reasons the police would not believe that Dan had done this – especially if he was already on the phone to them, a detail which Liam had obviously failed to consider. But also, things like fingerprints, which Liam must have sprinkled liberally about the boat. Unless he’s planning to wipe it down when he’s finished with it. But then there would be phone records to prove Dan’s innocence. No, whichever way she thought about it, Liam’s plan was not going to work.
‘Look, don’t you think Dan might be ringing the police right now?’
Liam glared at her.
‘You’ve given him a chance to track you. Or the police anyway. As long as you have the phone, they know where you are.’
‘He doesn’t value your life very highly then, if he’s stupid enough to do something like that.’
‘I’ve got to tell you that our marriage has got off to a very rocky start. He’s not the man I thought he was.’ She hoped that by playing down her value to Dan, Liam might realise that killing her wasn’t worth the risk. ‘I only came back to tell him I was leaving him. We both agreed that it wasn’t going to work. Too rushed. We’ve realised that we’re not right for each other.’
He scrolled through his phone again then looked at her, eyes narrowed. ‘It’s not there. He’s not transferred the money. Fuck him!’ He stood and threw his phone into the sea before turning back to her. ‘Shows what he thinks of you, then, doesn’t it?’
Her heart skipped a beat. Dan’s willing to risk my life.
Forty
Without warning, Liam lurched towards her, his hands grabbing at her clothes, pulling her up. ‘I told him what would happen! I told him.’ She could hear the rage in his voice, see it in his face, feel it in the roughness of his grasp. His hands clutched her skin through her clothes, making her cry out. ‘He’s got a hard lesson to learn, when he realises that your death is down to him.’ He snorted. ‘That’ll break him. And maybe he hasn’t gone to the police. Maybe I can still get him done for your murder, eh?’
He grunted as his arms hooked under her legs and round her shoulders.
He’s going to throw me in!
She writhed and screamed, the boat rocking wildly with the force of her movements. His eyes widened as gravity started to pull him this way and that, making him stagger backwards and forwards. He’s going to drop me, she thought, hopeful, until with a final savage sway of the boat, his feet went from under him and they were falling backwards.
It seemed to happen in slow motion, her eyes noticing the sky, the Milky Way a brilliant blaze across the darkness, the silver moon, small and high. Then the shock of the cold water, stopping her breathing for a moment until she remembered her lifeguard training, from a holiday job she’d had while she was at uni. The first rule when you fell into cold water was to float on your back until your body got over the shock and your breathing sorted itself out. Otherwise, your lungs would fill with water and you’d drown. Simple as that.
Her clothes dragged her down, her arms and leg stiff and unwieldy in their bindings.
Get to the surface, she urged herself. Come on, up, up, up! She could hear her voice shouting in her head while she tried to keep the water out of her mouth and her nose and quell the panic that filled her chest.
Frantically, she scraped her trainers together, trying to loosen them, rid herself of their unwieldy weight. I’m wasting time, wasting too much time, she told herself, striking upwards, aiming for the silvery light. Her lungs were bursting, the pressure building in her ears as she fought to get to the surface. She managed to get her legs working like flippers, arms scything through the water, despite her bindings.
I’m not going to die, I’m not going to die, she told herself, in an effort to keep calm. And neither are you, baby. We’re going to get through this. Quite how that was going to happen, she had no idea, but with Liam in the water as well, he would be distracted, and she’d have a chance.
When she thought she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she burst to the surface, coughing and spluttering as her lungs sucked in air. Adrenaline sharpened her mind, speeding up her thought processes. She scanned the water and spotted Liam grasping the side of the boat. He was trying to heave himself back in, but it was such a small, light boat and he was a big, heavy man, making the manoeuvre much harder than it would seem.
While he was distracted, she headed to the back of the boat where the propeller glistened, Liam’s weight pulling it out of the water. It was the only sharp object she could think of to cut her bindings. Liam fell backwards and her heart skittered when the boat slapped back down into the water. Is it even possible? Might there be a real danger of it slicing into me if he lets go? But she had to try. Because if she couldn’t cut the ties, and her arms and legs stayed bound, then her hopes of survival were limited to say the least.
Come on, come on, you can do this!
Gasping with the effort, she managed to manoeuvre herself next to the propeller, but it was dipping in and out of the water as Liam tried to get back on the boat. She watched and waited until Liam paused to get his breath before she launched herself towards it, hooking her arms over the top blade and pulling down and back as hard as she could, her feet braced against the boat. Her hands sprang apart, and she gasped with relief, managing to get herself away from the rear of the boat before it crashed back into the water as Liam’s grip slipped once again.
She watched for a moment as he made another attempt, calculating whether she could get her feet free, but decided that it was far too dangerous, the risks of being slashed by the blades too great. No, she’d have to manage with just her arms.
The sea was mercifully calm, and she looked around, trying to work out where the nearest land might be, and how far she was from safety. She spotted the horizon, wavy with the outline of the hills. Her heart thudded a little bit harder. Way too far. The effort of keeping herself afloat was pulling at her body, threatening to take her under the surface, and just for a moment, numb with the cold and weak with exhaustion, she wondered if that might be the easiest solution. Just let herself slip away from the chaotic mess of
her life.
I’m going to die.
The inevitability of it relaxed her shoulders, slowed her arm movements, because what was the point of being so frantic when the end result was going to be the same? I’ll just float for a minute, she told herself. And then I’ll let myself go.
Everything that had happened slipped through her mind, whispering truths that she didn’t want to acknowledge. It’s all my fault. What on earth would Mum make of it all? She’d be horrified. But then she heard her mum’s voice, telling her she loved her. That she just wanted her to be happy. Something she’d said to Chloe so many times over her life, when choices had to be made, backing her decision, whatever it had been.
It’s all about guilt, she realised. About how the three of us have responded to tragedies. All of them had dealt with it in different ways, but the poisonous emotion was the common denominator, a deadly catalyst, culminating in this final showdown.
You’ve nothing to feel guilty about, her mum’s voice told her, firmly. And she remembered the conversation with her gran, how she’d lived her life based on assumptions about what others thought, trying to make up for imaginary wrongs. She’d let guilt twist her logic and take her life away from her.
‘I only want what’s best for you.’ That’s what her mum had said to Chloe before she went on her travels all those years ago. ‘You have fun while you can, don’t you worry about me.’
Her feet started to sink, and her mouth filled with water. She started to splutter. Is this it?
If she had another chance, Chloe thought, she’d make the most of the gift of life that her mother had given her, not let other people trap her in a prison of their own negative emotions. It all seemed so clear now she was at the end. Next time she’d do things differently.
Come on, fight it! Fight it! Her mum’s voice was shouting inside her head and she knew she’d be horrified at the thought of Chloe giving up. The easy way out was never the route her mum would have taken, and she’d want Chloe to be the same.
She could see the silvery surface above her and clawed her way up through the water, coughing and spluttering as she broke through, gulping in air. Once she’d got her breath back, she looked around her, assessing the situation. If she could get far enough away from the boat before Liam got himself back in, he wouldn’t be able to see her, would he? Not with the lazy rise and fall of the sea, the dips providing hiding places in the dark. There was a chance of escape, and until the sea claimed her, she had to try. If not for herself, then for her baby.
She floated on her back, sculled with her arms for a moment, and watched Liam over the tops of her feet while she allowed her panic about dying to sink from her mind. She’d always felt at home in the water, loved the way it made her weightless, how it felt like flying. This was a mind game now.
I can stay afloat for hours if I can conserve my energy. Maybe the currents would take her to land. Maybe the coastguards would come looking for her. But first, she had to be sure she was safe from Liam.
He couldn’t get himself back in the boat, and every time he tried to heave himself in, the little vessel dipped into the sea, filling with a bit more water, slowly sinking lower. Finally, his last effort tipped the balance and the boat disappeared from view. They were left looking at each other, no more than ten feet apart. That was when she saw the life jacket, and in an instant she found herself flailing towards it, just seconds before Liam did the same. He tried to snatch it from her, but she had it firmly in her grasp. He grabbed at her instead, and his weight started pulling them under, the life jacket no match for the weight of the two of them.
She writhed and squirmed, lashed out with her free arm, hand scraping his flesh, his face, scratching and gouging and doing whatever she had to do to get him off her. Her legs kicked, her body bucked. She was like a crocodile doing a death roll, the gift of life hers for the giving or taking.
Forty-One
Later, with no concept of how long she’d been in the water, she began to wonder if she’d used up too much energy too soon. Land was still a long way away, although the outline of the hills was more visible on the skyline. Closer. She couldn’t see any lights, but at least she had the life jacket now, keeping her buoyant. Thank goodness there had been one in the bottom of the boat; it must have flipped into the water, either when they’d first fallen out or when Liam had been trying to get back in.
She wasn’t going to think about Liam, she decided, as her arms moved in a slow back crawl, bringing her closer to land with every stroke. Her priority was to get herself to safety, and the boat was long gone.
We’re okay, baby, we’re still okay.
Weariness pulled at her arms with every stroke, but she didn’t dwell on it, filling her mind instead with the order: left, right, left, right. A slow but steady rhythm. People did amazing things. All the time. They pushed their bodies to the limit and beyond. Look at the guy who ran seven marathons in seven days. Or the one who swam round the UK. People did that. Ordinary people, with extraordinary determination. She could be like that. For the sake of her baby, she’d do anything.
Keeping moving meant she was staying warm. Her stomach muscles quivered with the effort of keeping her legs up, but she ignored their protests, kept lifting her arms. Left, right, left, right.
It took her a few moments to realise that there was a new whooshing sound filling her ears and she righted herself for a moment to look. It might be a boat, somebody looking for me. The foamy lines of waves breaking on the shore made her heart lurch and she set off with a new determination, lying on her front now, doing a breast stroke with her arms, just to get different muscle groups working. I can do this! I can! Her breath fractured into sobs as she realised the ordeal was nearly at an end and she had to stop for a moment, coughing as water filled her mouth.
Not here. Don’t stop here, she told herself, turning onto her back again, a safer way to swim, although her arms would no longer go above her head, her muscles like jelly. She floated, sculling with her hands, hoping the current would do the work for her. Be patient, she told herself, no idea how deep the water was, where it became shallow enough for her to stand. Her energy was seriously ebbing now that the end was in sight, her legs like lead, sinking lower with every stroke… until they hit the bottom, and she realised with gasps of relief that she could stand.
Her breath sobbed out of her, but with her legs tied together, there was no way she could walk. She had to lie on her stomach and let the waves wash her onto a pebbly beach, where she clawed her way out of the water, legs dragging behind her, until she was high enough up the shore to be certain she was safe.
She lay on her side, curled up in a foetal position, her whole body shaking as she gasped and cried and laughed.
‘I’m alive, Mum. Look, I did it,’ she whispered into the grey of the pre-dawn. ‘I bloody did it.’
Her teeth chattered, and violent shivers jerked through her. Hypothermia wasn’t far away, she thought, as the urge to go to sleep tugged at her eyelids. She shook her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking around her, frowning. They had explored a lot of the coastline over the last week, but this place didn’t look familiar. There was a small cliff behind her and she knew there was no way she’d be getting up it. What she needed to do, and quick, was to get the bindings off her legs. She scoured the high-water line, noticing that it was speckled with litter. There must be something I can use to cut through the ties.
Slowly, she pushed herself backwards, checking under seaweed for anything suitable. Then her hand snagged on something sharp: a tin can. Yes! She leant forwards and carefully sawed at the plastic that bound her ankles together until the ties finally snapped. Her legs were free.
With her knees against her chest, she rubbed at her ankles and feet, trying to get the blood flowing again. At the moment, they were completely numb and lifeless, like blocks of wood on the end of her legs, and she knew it would be a while before she could walk anywhere. A violent shiver wracked her body, pain b
urning through her lifeless limbs as the blood slowly made its way through compressed veins and arteries. It was almost too much to bear, and a tear tracked down her cheek when she realised the impossibility of her situation.
It’s not over yet.
She flopped onto the ground, exhausted by her efforts.
Is this it? Is this where I’m going to die?
Her eyelids drooped and she slowly succumbed to sleep.
* * *
She was woken by a whirring sound that was getting louder. She forced her eyes open and saw a helicopter coming over the headland towards her.
‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ she muttered as she scrambled to her feet, lurching and swaying as her limbs refused to respond to her commands, her muscles weak and shaky. It passed overhead, swung round the headland and was gone, all in a matter of seconds. Out of sight, the sound of the propellers slowly faded into the distance and she stared after it, open-mouthed, dismay filling her chest, making it hard to breathe.
They didn’t see me. Nobody was coming to her rescue.
She looked up at the cliff that blocked her escape from the beach, and her knees crumpled under her as she stared after the helicopter, willing it to come back, her ears straining to pick up any sound of it. Her eyes widened. There it is! She tried to work out if it was real or just wishful thinking, then her head whipped round and it was coming towards her, hovering overhead. She tried to stand, but her legs were no longer working, and she fell back down, shielding her face from the downdraught while she waited. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. We’re safe, baby. We’re safe.