Deep Water

by Mark Ayre

  A sulking Tony by her side, a delicious sandwich in her hand, Abbie led the way from the cafe back to the beach.

  Tony kept quiet en route. Fine by Abbie. It gave her time to eat her sandwich and process her discussion with Louis. There wasn't much to consider. The conversation had confirmed some of her suspicions, primarily that Louis had not killed Aurora and wasn't planning to kill Alice. Still, if Angel or Ariana murdered Jacob or Kyle in retaliation for the crime they believed Louis had committed, his fury would know no bounds. Unlike Alice, he would have no doubt who was to blame and would strike with the force of a natural disaster. Angel and Ariana would be his targets. In his rage, his crossfire could easily kill Alice or Tony. Louis would feel no guilt until later. By which point it would be too late.

  As Abbie had told Louis, the best play was to unite and stand against Angel and Ariana. If Alice could stand with Louis and say to her daughters he had not killed Aurora, they might back off. Whatever Angel and Ariana said, they loved their mother; there was every chance she could circumvent disaster.

  And if Alice failed, Abbie would act. Aurora's death was a tragedy. Abbie wouldn't allow Angel and Ana to shed any further blood.

  At the carpark where she had parked earlier that day, Abbie ditched her sandwich wrapper in the bin and followed Tony down the stone steps to the sea with her coffee. Two men, one bald, one blonde, who had been following her and Tony for at least ten minutes, carried on by. Baldie kept his eyes fixed ahead. Blondie could not resist glancing Abbie's way. Abbie pretended not to see but descended the stone steps, already preparing for what would come next.

  It was a cold day. The beach was not empty but close to. The families, dog walkers, runners and couples who shared the sand with Tony and Abbie were all to the east. The strip of beach to the west, leading to Tony's home, still showed signs of the previous night's party. That was enough to keep people away, and that was the direction Tony and Abbie travelled.

  After a few seconds on the hard sand, drinking her coffee, Abbie turned to the sulking Tony.

  "This'll be hard for you to hear because you've already made up your mind, but I don't believe Louis killed your sister."

  Tony faltered but didn't stop. They carried on, keeping close to the concrete wall which marked the manmade world from nature's beach and ocean.

  "You can't know he's innocent."

  "Of course I can't," said Abbie. "But I've spoken with him and examined the situation. I think the chances he's the killer are slim, bordering on minuscule. I know that isn't what you want to hear."

  "Because it's not right. The police said—"

  "I know what the police said. That doesn't mean it was Louis."

  "You can't be right."

  "No, you refuse to be wrong. You want it to be Louis because it's easy."

  "You think losing a sister is easy?”

  "No," said Abbie. "I know full well it isn't. I mean, you seek closure but are coming up against the same problem as every person who loses a loved one to a hideous crime. You know someone is responsible, and how can you move on if that someone is still out there, living the free, happy life that was denied your sister? People go mad trying to figure out what happened to their loved ones, Tony, and I think you're worried you'd go mad too. That's what I mean by easy. Because if it's Louis, you already have your answers. He was angry at your mother, so he killed your sister. All that remains is to kill him. Your sister's murder will be avenged, and you can mourn her death, cherish her memory, and move on with your life. I get that, I do, and I wish I believed it was Louis because he's an arsehole. I could happily kill him and take away your pain. But I won't tell you it's him if I don't believe it, just to make you feel better. That's not who I am."

  They continued towards Tony's house. Up ahead, Abbie could see the spot where she'd met Charlie, and beyond that, where concrete became uneven rock. Abbie drank her coffee and gave Tony time to process her speech.

  "I had it in my head that you'd make him confess," said Tony. "I thought you might kill him."

  Abbie said nothing. Tony was reasoning with himself, trying to process what had happened and how he felt. Perhaps working towards a place where he could accept Louis’ innocence.

  "You're right; I need to know who killed Aurora," he said. "For closure, I have to know. You're telling me it's not Louis; then who? Who could have killed her?"

  "I don't know."

  "But you could find out."

  "I'm not a private detective. Most killers come to me because I'm standing in their way, protecting their target. Your sister's murder relates to your mother's danger because the incident is the touch paper that brought Angel and Ana into conflict with Louis. But if someone other than Louis murdered your sister, they'd likely have no reason to come after anyone else in your family. The chances of them putting their head above the proverbial parapet are next to zero."

  "Right, but we could still try—"

  "No." Abbie knew what he was going to ask. It wasn't worth entertaining. "Tony, I've been clear. I came to your town to protect your mother. Now I've arrived, I'd also like to ensure no one kills you, Jacob, or Kyle. But that's it. By tomorrow's end, my work will be done, and I'll be gone. The end."

  They were almost at the split between smooth concrete and jagged rock. Further on, beyond the crack in the rocks into which Ana had dragged Jacob, another set of stone steps gave access to the beach. Down these came two men; one blonde, one bald—the same men as before.

  Tony didn't notice the men. He was lost in darkness.

  "So that's it? You're not fussed about my sister?"

  "My business is saving lives," said Abbie, "not avenging deaths."

  Reaching the bottom of the stone steps, the men made a beeline for the sea. They didn't look the sort to include long walks on the beach under the Likes heading in their dating profiles. They wore bulky jackets. Sensible in the current conditions; also perfect for concealing weapons of which the police would not approve. In her own coat, Abbie could feel the reassuring weight of her gun. The problem was, she couldn't use it. The bang of a shot could bring people running from every direction. Within seconds, sirens could fill the air, and Abbie could be in a heap of trouble at a time she could not afford to be delayed.

  Tony still wasn't talking nor paying attention to his surroundings.

  "I know you're upset," said Abbie. "If it helps, which I guess it won't, I wish I'd been called here before Aurora died. If I had been, maybe I could have saved her. But I wasn't. Your sister is dead, and you want justice or revenge or whatever, but I can't give it to you. What I can give you is a choice: attend the meeting this evening, hear Louis and your sister out, and get involved in our plan to ensure there is no further bloodshed. Or don't come. Take a step back, do whatever you want so long as it involves staying out of my way because I like you, Tony, but I need to focus on the job at hand. I cannot allow your vendetta against Louis to endanger your mother or his sons. I just can't. So, what's it to be?"

  The men stopped just beyond the reach of the tide, side by side, staring out to sea. One of them, Blondie, raised a hand to his jacket, then dropped it when his bald friend gave him a sharp word. They stood a little way along from the crack in the wall.

  And they were waiting.

  "Fine."

  Abbie had been drinking her coffee and watching the guys by the sea without making it obvious. It took her a couple of seconds to register what Tony had said.

  "Fine?"

  "Yeah. Fine. More than anything, I want my sister's killer to pay. It's not fair on you because it's not your problem, but I'm pissed off you won't help. I hate the thought of working with Louis, but, for now, I'm going to trust you. I'll come to the meeting; I won't say a word against that prick. I'm putting all my faith in you, so please, please, make sure nothing happens to my mum. If we trust Louis and she gets hurt, I'll never forgive you."

  "Sounds good, now kiss me."

  "What?”

  "Come on, they're watching; just
make it look real."

  "What are you—"

  Abbie kissed him. Arms around his neck, lips pressed to his, the whole nine yards.

  Given he was angry, Abbie thought Tony might push her away. She had forgotten he was a straight, single man in his late twenties, while she was attractive and available. It took a second for his brain to register what was going on, then his arms slid around her back, and he pulled her close.

  The kiss was decent. 7/10. Though further blemished by Bobby, who floated into her mind, staring at her with doe eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore. Forcing him away, Abbie focused on holding the kiss and making it real without letting it swamp her mind. She needed to know what the men by the sea were doing. She had to get this right.

  For over a minute, she let the kiss continue. The men by the beach didn't move, though they cast more obvious glances in Abbie's direction.

  When Abbie pulled away, she at once turned Tony towards the rocks. "Come with me."

  She had his hand, dragged him along. For a few seconds, he allowed himself to be led. When he noticed where they were going, he started to resist.

  "Hey, isn't that where Ana—"

  "Not now," Abbie hissed. "We just have to—"

  He stopped, pulled back. Abbie couldn't let the guys by the beach wonder why their targets hadn't continued on their path. Couldn't have them asking questions about the honesty of the scene playing out before them. As Tony stopped, yanking his hand loose, Abbie squeezed his fingers and spun backwards as though he were dragging her to him. As he tried to speak, she kissed him again, and again he didn't resist. Lonely people could be so weak.

  This time, when she broke the kiss, she put her hands on his cheeks and pressed her forehead to his. From afar, this would look like romance. To him, she whispered, "Our lives are in danger; you must do as I say."

  His eyes went wide. "What?"

  "Do not move your head. Keep your eyes on mine. Over by the sea are two men pretending, badly, to watch the ocean." He tried to twist his head. Abbie held him fast. "I said, don't look. They're here for us. In a second, I'll kiss you again, then drag you between the rocks. They'll assume we're going to get hot and steamy. That's what we want."

  "It's acting," said Tony, his voice numb.

  "That's right, and we're doing a far better job than them. You ready?"

  "You were only pretending to kiss me."

  "No, that really happened. Are you ready?"

  "You know what I mean. I'm not a prop. You remember I wanted to take you to lunch? I wanted that to be a date."

  "Tony, please, now is not the time. Tell me you're ready."

  He stared at her. His eyes swam with hurt, like Bobby’s had, in her imagination, as she started to lose herself in the kiss.

  "Tony—"

  "I'm ready," he cut in.

  Once more, they kissed. Broke apart after a few seconds.

  "You were a little stiff that time," said Abbie. "And not in a good way."

  Before Tony could respond, Abbie took his hand and dragged him to the cave. Not allowing his hurt to get the better of him, he came along. A few seconds later, they disappeared into the small crevice between the rocks.

  "Hold this," said Abbie, shoving her empty coffee cup into Tony's hand while examining the space. As she turned, Tony took a step towards the opening, trying to get a glimpse of their enemies.

  "Don't," said Abbie, taking his arm, pulling him back. The cave was like a potion bottle. The entrance was narrow, opening into a small circular area, big enough, as Abbie well knew, for a slim woman, a stocky man, and a kneeling teenager—so long as the man and woman kept their backs pressed too opposite walls—with enough room left over for a cameraman in the cave entrance. Abbie pushed Tony against one wall, putting him out of sight of the cave entrance. Pressed her body against his, so their faces were a couple of inches apart.

  "What now?" Tony asked. "Can I drop this cup? It’s empty.”

  "That would be littering, so no."

  "How do you know these guys are after us? And if that kiss was acting, why did it feel amazing?"

  "I know because this is my field of expertise. I've been here before. As for the kiss, it felt amazing because I'm an amazing kisser. I wouldn't read anything into it."

  "I read lots into it."

  "More fool you. Now shut up, I'm listening."

  "I think you felt what I felt."

  "Oh, dear God."

  "It was electric, wasn't it? Like a bolt of lightning.”

  "I wish it had been like a lightning bolt. Then we'd both be dead, and I wouldn't be having this conversation. Now, shut up."

  "I don't want to hold this coffee cup. I may need both my hands to—"

  Abbie grabbed the cup and hurled it to the floor. When Tony tried to speak, she slapped a hand across his mouth.

  "No more."

  Keeping her body pressed to his, her hand over his mouth, she tilted her head and listened for the sounds of approaching enemies.

  It was difficult. Abbie could shut Tony up but couldn't silence the sea. Yet. The lapping waves would mask Blondie and Baldie's approach, possibly until they were right at the cave's mouth.

  She titled her head a little farther, a little farther again. Then cried out.

  Tony had licked her hand.

  "What the hell?" she said, pulling back.

  "What's going on?" he said. "I'm stuck here with you. I deserve to know."

  Abbie sighed. She wanted to put her hand over his mouth again. Maybe punch him in the stomach to encourage obedience. But he had a point. It was not only Abbie in danger.

  “The assailants were waiting by the sea for us to pass. If we had, they’d have followed, snuck upon us, and attacked. That was their plan, so I had to break it, preferably while lulling them into a false sense of security. So we kiss, make it look like we're ready to get hot and heavy, then run in here. They won't want to wait around. They have an empty beach at the moment; they'll want to get this done and get gone before that changes. That means waiting’s not an option. They'll have to come get us."

  Tony's eyes were even wider than before. With her chest pressed to his, she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

  "Come get us how?" he said.

  "They probably won't have guns."

  "Oh God, they're going to shoot us."

  "Won't have gons, Tony. Won't, won't. Do try to keep up. Guns are loud. They'll want to get this done without being noticed. Best case scenario, they're planning to rough us up with fists alone. Worst case, they've brought knives. I'd prepare for worst case if I were you."

  Tony gave a low, frightened moan and began to slide down the wall. Abbie held him up, pressed more firmly against him.

  "When they leave the seafront, they'll want to get as close as possible to us without being seen. That means they'll come up to the rocks, then move along towards the crack. All I have to do is be ready. Everyone hinges on me taking one of them out immediately."

  "What happens if you fail?"

  "They rough me up, maybe kill me. Who knows? I might still get the better of them. It depends on how good they are. Now, we don't have much time. I need you to be ready."

  "What do you want me to do," Tony said. Tony squeaked.

  "Stay alive," said Abbie. "I'll try to keep them away from you. If one or both slips past me, shout your name in their faces."

  "My name?"

  "Yes. You do know your name, don't you?"

  "Anthony Mitchell.”

  "Good excellent. Say that, or Tony instead of Anthony or go for your mother’s current married name rather than your father’s surname. Any of those should work. Just make sure you shout, and they understand."

  "I don't understand."

  "You don't need to."

  "Abbie, I'm scared. They'll get through. They're going to come for me and—"

  Abbie kissed him. "Tony, remember the lightning bolt... if you thought that was good, then just stay calm, and stay alive, because if you do that, I�
�ll give you the storm. Okay?"

  His eyes remained wide, but fear was becoming wonder.

  "Okay?" Abbie repeated.

  He nodded. Said nothing. That was better. Abbie considered giving him the gun but didn't think it would help. He'd either go mad and start shooting it everywhere, probably killing Abbie before anyone else, or he'd fail to use it at all and Blondie and Baldie, seeing it as a threat, would make its existence a reason to kill him. No, the gun couldn't help him, nor did Abbie want Baldie and Blondie finding it on her if they took her down.

  Turning, Abbie dropped to the ground, picked up the coffee cup, and removed the lid. Masking her actions from Tony, she shoved the gun inside and forced the cover on top, then she placed the cup back on the floor by the opposite wall of the cave where she hoped it looked inconspicuous or at least uninteresting.

  "What was that?" Tony asked as Abbie stood, and she forestalled his question by placing a palm on his chest.

  "Stay where you are. Remember to shout your name," she said. "Think of the thunderstorm, and try not to die."

  He wanted to speak. Before he could, Abbie removed her hand from his chest, turned towards the sea, and went to face the enemy.

  Sixteen

  The sea washed against the shore. A light breeze rushed across the sand, disturbing but moving very little of the tightly packed grains. Somewhere nearby, their movements masked by the sounds of nature, Blondie and Baldie approached with determination in their eyes and cruel intentions in their hearts.

  Behind Abbie, Tony was somehow keeping quiet. Their assailants would approach from the right because approaching from the left would mean crossing the cave's entrance. Keeping her back as close to the rock wall on that side as possible, Abbie made her way to within inches of the cave entrance. On and on droned the sea and the wind. Abbie had no weapons and only one chance to get this right. Failing to hear their approach could be fatal.

  For what felt like an hour, but must have been no more than thirty seconds, Abbie remained at the entrance, eyes closed, controlled breathing, listening to the ocean like it was on tape, and she was trying to get to sleep. It was a relaxing noise, which was infuriating. Abbie became sure she would not hear the enemy approach.