12
Nina dropped to the floor on the other side of Phil’s body and motioned to Ross to move aside so they could split the chest compressions between them.
‘What happened?’ she asked, her own heart racing as her hands pumped Phil’s chest.
‘I don’t know,’ Ross said. ‘I came back to check on our wounded guest, and Phil was fine. Looked a bit sleepy from the alcohol, and tired, but that’s all.’
He stopped, leaned forward, and motioned to her that she should let him take over once more.
‘I thought he was sleeping,’ he said. ‘Then the back door slammed – I figured I’d forgotten to lock it. I went to shut it. When I came back, he was on the floor. I thought he’d passed out from the drink.’
Nina pushed him away. ‘Let me – you’re tiring.’
Neither of them spoke as she worked, the only sound in the room that of their breathing.
Nina’s mind raced as she flexed her palms and concentrated on the compressions. She couldn’t understand why Phil would be okay one minute, then in a state of collapse moments later. She became aware of footsteps, a flashlight beam against the opposite wall, then movement behind her.
‘Anything we can do?’
Sean’s voice cut through her concentration.
Nina looked over her shoulder at him, her hands still working, then back to Ross, who was holding his fingers against Phil’s neck, moving them across the skin, his jaw set.
‘What’s going on?’
Dani joined them, the note of concern in her voice cutting through the tension in the room.
‘Go and try the landline,’ said Ross. ‘See if you can get through to the emergency services. Tell them it looks like Phil’s had a heart attack.’
‘My mobile phone’s next to it,’ added Nina. ‘Try that, too.’
Dani’s footsteps receded as she ran from the room, closely followed by Sean.
‘Do you think they’ll get through?’ asked Nina, her arms aching from the exertion.
He shrugged. ‘We have to try.’
His hands moved from Phil’s neck and wrapped around the man’s wrist. He shook his head and moved his hands until he covered Nina’s, seeking out her fingers in the near darkness.
’Stop. It’s too late. He’s gone.’
‘He can’t be.’ Nina kept pumping her hands on the man’s chest, her hair rocking across her face with the motion. ‘We can’t give up yet.’
‘Nina, there’s no pulse. We’ve been doing this for ten minutes straight,’ Ross murmured. ‘He’s dead.’
‘The phone line’s still down. And there’s no signal on any of the mobiles.’ Sean’s voice echoed through the building towards them.
A ragged breath escaped Nina’s lips as she stopped the compressions and leaned back on her heels.
Somehow, she’d known it had been a hopeless task. Phil’s body had been unresponsive, his eyes closed and his face impassive in the light from her torch the entire time they’d been working on him.
She raised her head, the sound of Ross’s breathing closing the gap between them. He sounded as exhausted as she felt as she tried to keep her composure. She remained still, her thoughts churning, wondering whether they could’ve done more if they’d found Phil sooner.
Dani’s voice cut through the silence as she peered around the doorframe, the beam from her flashlight bobbing around on the carpet next to Phil’s feet.
‘I wish we’d never come back here,’ she hissed. ‘We should’ve kept going to town.’
Nina turned, and squinted as the light struck her in the face. She raised her hand to shield her eyes.
Sean’s voice silenced Dani as he ushered her from the room, talking to her in undertones.
Nina sighed, reached forward, and began to re-button Phil’s shirt, then frowned.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Hang on.’ She leaned forward and brushed her fingertips through Phil’s hair, then held up her hand. Blood covered her fingers.
Ross’s eyes widened.
‘I don’t think he had a heart attack,’ said Nina, her voice shaking. She glanced at Phil’s still body, then back to the bed. ‘Do you think he killed him?’ she whispered.
‘He looks pretty out of it still,’ said Ross.
‘He could be pretending.’
‘Or Phil could’ve hit his head when he fell,’ said Ross. ‘It could be as simple an explanation as that.’
Nina stood and walked over to the pile of towels they’d used earlier and wiped Phil’s blood from her fingers.
What if Ross was right? What if Phil had simply had a heart attack, and had hit his head as he’d collapsed to the floor?
She swallowed. What if Ross was lying?
The Ross she’d grown up with would never have hurt another person. Was it really possible for someone to change so much?
‘Hey.’ He rose and moved towards her. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded and sniffled. ‘Fine.’
‘Come here.’
Ross offered her his hand.
She slipped her fingers between his, and he pulled her closer before his arms enveloped her.
‘You’ve had one hell of a shock. We both have.’
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest, grateful for the gesture.
‘This day couldn’t possibly get any worse,’ she mumbled into his shirt.
‘Tell me about it.’
His chest rose and fell under the weight of her head, and she wrinkled her nose at the scent of his sweat before realising she’d also worked as hard as him that day.
She pushed away and looked up at him.
‘Okay?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘Okay. I’m going to go over to the accommodation block. See if I can find a spare blanket.’
Nina opened her mouth to ask why before the realisation hit her. She bit her lip.
‘It’s the best we can do for him at the moment,’ said Ross. ‘He’d understand.’
‘I know.’
She looked down at Phil, then to the motionless wounded man in her bed. Something still didn’t feel right. She gestured to Ross to step outside the room.
‘What is it?’ His brow creased as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.
Nina held a finger to her lips. ‘Keep your voice down,’ she whispered. She craned her neck round the doorframe to check on the injured stranger and then turned back to Ross. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange, Phil having a heart attack?’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s not that old.’
‘Driving a truck isn’t exactly a healthy lifestyle.’
‘I know – but he didn’t show any symptoms, did he?’
‘Sometimes heart attacks happen like that, don’t they? I mean, I’m not a medical expert, but you hear stories of perfectly healthy people with no medical history of heart problems just dropping dead one day, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ Nina bit her lip.
‘What?’ Ross stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing – it’s stupid.’
‘Come on. This is me you’re talking to,’ said Ross. ‘Tell me.’
Nina exhaled loudly, ignoring the liquid sensation in her lungs, wondering how much she should tell him. She decided to play safe. ‘What if the wounded man did attack him?’
She stepped back as Ross’s eyebrows shot upwards.
He stepped sideways and checked the stranger was still asleep, then turned back to Nina, grabbed her arm and pulled her along the corridor until they were closer to the back door.
‘Are you serious?’ he spluttered.
‘Did you happen to notice if he moved between you leaving the room to check the back door, and coming back?’
‘No.’ Ross bit his lip. ‘No, when I went back into the room, Phil was on the floor and I started CPR on him.’ He cursed. ‘I didn’t even look at our guest.’
<
br /> Nina noted the sarcasm in his voice and held up her hand to placate him. ‘It’s just a thought, that’s all.’
‘Well, you’re wrong.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘You must be. I mean, he wouldn’t have had time to do anything to Phil.’
‘How long did you leave the room for?’
Ross rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. ‘Five minutes, max. I walked out of the room, opened the back door, checked outside to make sure everything was okay out there, then closed it and locked it. Then I went to the bathroom and took a piss. Five minutes. It couldn’t have been more than that.’
Nina sighed, reached out, and ran her hand down Ross’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’m so wound up about being back here, and what’s happened.’ She forced a laugh, but it came out breathless. ‘I’m getting paranoid.’
A smile crossed Ross’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
‘I’ll go and find that blanket,’ he said. ‘You’d better check on our other guests.’
Nina stepped aside as he unlocked the back door and stepped into the pouring rain before she wandered back towards the front of the building. As she passed her bedroom, she couldn’t help looking at Phil’s body.
She frowned, then quietly slipped into the room and crouched down next to him. She checked over her shoulder, and then at the figure on the bed, before reaching out and gently turning Phil’s head.
She bit back an exclamation as she saw the wound to the back of the man’s skull.
It was deep, deeper than she’d realised when she’d found blood in Phil’s hair moments earlier. As if he’d been taken by surprise, hit from behind with a blunt weapon.
She moved his head back and stood, moving swiftly to the door. Stepping back into the passageway, she gripped the doorframe and stared at the prone figure.
Was Ross telling the truth?
Had he really left the room to check the back door? She’d heard it slam in its frame, but what if Ross had done that on purpose, to cover his tracks?
She shook her head to clear the thought.
Why would Ross kill Phil? He had nothing to hide – did he?
Her gaze travelled over the mound of bedding covering the stranger. She couldn’t recall if he was in the same position they’d left him in.
Had he moved?
She stepped around Phil’s body towards the bed. Breathing hard, she reached out and touched his arm.
He didn’t move.
‘Wake up,’ she hissed, and squeezed his arm.
He didn’t react, and she watched as his chest rose and fell as if he were in a deep sleep.
She bit her lip. If he wasn’t asleep, then he was a good actor – she knew his shoulder must be hurting him, so if he wasn’t unconscious, would he have had time to murder Phil before returning to the bed and feigning sleep?
The sound of Sean and Dani’s voices further along the passageway roused her from her thoughts. They sounded like they were arguing again.
She hurried back to the front of the truck stop, chewing her fingernail, unconvinced now that Phil had simply succumbed to a heart attack, and wondered which of the three men in the truck stop with her had murdered him.
13
Ross ran across the narrow footpath that separated the back of the truck stop and the accommodation block.
Fumbling with the keys, his hands shaking, he finally found the master key and unlocked the first room.
He stepped inside and breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful for the separate power source as the lights flickered to life when he flipped the switch.
The room was sparse, with only a double bed, side tables, and a wardrobe filling the space. Another door at the rear of the room led to a small bathroom. A tired brown carpet covered the floor, while the lighting did little to hide the fact the paintwork needed updating.
Nina’s father had designed the rooms to be functional, nothing more, his reasoning being that most people only stayed for a night, for convenience rather than a desire to remain in Mistake Creek for any longer than was necessary.
Ross stepped across to the wardrobe, pulled open the doors, and began to grab the spare linen off the top shelf, his mind working overtime.
Somehow, he had to get Nina away from the truck stop – and fast.
He’d had his suspicions about the motorcyclist and his wife earlier in the evening, when they’d been so vague in their explanation to Nina about where they’d travelled and where they were headed.
He moved quickly, not wanting to leave Nina alone with them longer than he had to.
When she’d discovered blood in the man’s hair, his first thought had been that it was because Phil had hit his head as he’d slumped to the floor. Except that when he’d lifted his flashlight to search the room for something to cover his body with, he’d noticed Sean standing at the doorway, a strange look in his eyes as the beam had swept over his face.
Since then, he’d been convinced the motorcyclist had murdered him.
Only he didn’t have any proof. Not yet.
And he didn’t want to frighten Nina.
He cursed as his thoughts returned to the injured man who had slept through the commotion.
He’d checked over his shoulder each time Nina had taken over the compressions, but there had been no movement, no indication the man even knew they were there.
Either he was really unconscious from his wound, or he was a very good actor.
But why? Was he the killer? What was he hiding?
Or who was he hiding from?
Folding a blanket across his arm, Ross closed the wardrobe and stalked back to the door, his jaw clenched.
He recalled the way Nina had looked at him before he’d stepped outside. It was obvious to him that she suspected something wasn’t right about the situation.
A sickness threatened to overwhelm him as another thought struck him.
When she had discovered the blood, he’d done his best to alleviate her fears. In hindsight, he realised he should’ve told her he thought the same as she – that Phil had been murdered.
Instead, she now suspected him as well. He could see it in her eyes.
Did she think he was capable of murder? Is that why she clammed up suddenly?
He moved towards the made-up bed, its mattress sagging under his weight. Dropping the blankets on the counterpane, he leaned forward and held his head in his hands. A groan escaped his lips.
Why did Nina have to return to Mistake Creek this week? He knew her father had been showing signs of dementia – hell, he’d been the one who had rushed to Clint’s aid when townspeople phoned the Flanagan property to say they were worried about their neighbour.
He remembered the call his own father made to Nina, telling her she needed to return, after Ross had baulked at the prospect of speaking to her without it being face-to-face after all this time.
Yet, until this evening’s frightening scenario, it had been good to see her after so long apart. They’d fallen into their old habits within hours of working together to fix up the property.
He punched the mattress in frustration.
He had to solve this if he was going to prove his own innocence to her.
He thought about the injury to Phil’s head. Something blunt had to have caused it. His head jerked up, and he squinted through the rain towards the outbuilding where he and Sean had stored the motorbike.
Had Sean killed Phil?
He stood, grabbed the blankets, and straightened his shoulders, then headed for the door, his decision made.
All he had to do was find what had been used to kill Phil, without the other two men in the truck stop finding out what he was up to.
And before Nina jumped to the wrong conclusion and publicly accused him of murder.
Ross hurried across the footpath towards the truck stop, shut the back door, and pocketed the key, then sped along the passageway towards Nina’s bedroom.
He could hear her talking with Sean and Dani in the fro
nt room of the truck stop, her calming tones disguising any fear she might be suffering.
He gripped the blanket and hoped she’d keep their guests distracted long enough for him to take a look around the room.
He shook out the blanket and draped it over Phil’s body, avoiding having to look at the man’s face, then turned, his hands on his hips, wondering where to start.
The blow to Phil’s head had been savage, and likely caused by a heavy object to have killed him outright.
Ross moved to the bedside table and reached out to the lamp placed on it.
Its brass base shone in the flashlight’s beam as he picked it up and checked its edges. No tell-tale signs of blood remained, not even a smear.
He replaced it and cursed under his breath.
Next, he moved to the other side of the bed and checked the sports bag he’d left against the wall. It remained zipped up, just as he’d left it, no evidence of being tampered with, so he discounted its contents as potential murder weapons for the time being.
He spun round as Nina’s voice rose, a chair scraped across tiles, and he realised he was running out of time.
He moved back to the doorway, checked no-one was approaching, and then moved between Phil’s body and the bed.
Kneeling, he lifted the counterpane and swung his flashlight back and forth under the bed. On the second sweep, he found what he’d been looking for.
He reached out, then changed his mind at the last second and tugged his shirtsleeve over his hand before pulling the object towards him.
A flashlight, identical to his.
Except that on this one, the rim around the bulb had been stained a rusty shade of red.
Ross fought down bile at the sight of black hairs embedded in the congealed liquid, then spun round at footsteps outside the door, and froze.
14
‘Ross? What’s wrong?’
Nina leaned against the doorframe and tried to see what Ross was doing.
He held a second flashlight in his hands, a frown creasing his brow. He jumped when she spoke.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 28