by Susan Lewis
Closing her eyes she drew the pillow tighter to her face. She knew she was afraid, that she was pushing the fear deep inside her to stop herself panicking, but as the minutes ticked by and the rain pounded the windows it was becoming harder and harder to keep her fear at bay. The suspicion that something terrible had happened to Marianne was stalking her, but she was refusing to let her imagination accept it.
After a while she got up and looked anxiously towards the window. To her relief she saw a bright, clear moon emerging over the lake. The wind had blown the clouds away, the storm would be over soon.
She went to sit on the brick dais of the fireplace and clasping her hands tightly together prayed desperately for Marianne’s return. The furniture creaked and cracked the way old furniture did and each sudden noise was stiffening her nerves and making her more afraid than ever. Then suddenly her head came up as her blood turned to ice. Someone was calling her name.
‘Lou-is-a!’
She shrank back into the cavity of the chimney, her heart pounding wildly, her limbs weak with terror.
‘Lou-is-a!’
‘Oh my God!’ she murmured, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. But it was Marianne. It had to be Marianne. Probably her car had gone off the road and she was calling for help. She had to go out there, she had to make sure, but dear God, what if she was wrong? What if someone was waiting out there for her?
But that was nonsense, she tried to tell herself. If someone wanted to get her she was trapped inside the house …
‘Lou-is-a!’
As the sound of her own name coasted a trail of terror through her Louisa pulled herself up and moved slowly, cautiously to the window. At first all she could see was her own reflection inching stealthily, shakily towards it. Then, as she looked through the shadowy ghost of herself down through the trees to the lake, her whole body stood still with paralysing terror. There was somebody on the lake. Somebody, no more than a dark profile against the rippling current of moonlight, was sitting in a boat and waving to her. Then suddenly it was as though her heart was being wrenched from its roots as she realized who it was.
‘Oh no,’ she muttered, backing away from the window. ‘No, no, no, no. Oh, dear God, help me. She’s dead, I know she is …’
She spun round and threw herself towards the phone. Grabbing it she started to dial, her fingers moving frantically as if her panic could inject it with life. ‘Hello!’ she cried, rattling the connectors. ‘Hello! Hello! Please somebody. Please!’
The only reply was the dying, whining wind and the thundering beat of her heart.
‘Please! Please!’ she begged hysterically, banging the phone with her fingers and randomly pressing the buttons. ‘Oh Erik! Erik! You must know about this house. You must.’
Suddenly she swung round and stared wildly at the door as she heard a car crunching the gravel outside. Erik! It had to be Erik! Or Marianne!
She sprang to her feet, started towards the door, then abruptly drew back as her mind began to whirl with crazy, irrational thoughts. What if it wasn’t them? What if it was Danny? Danny who was dead. What if it was the person who had killed Danny? Horrible, deranged visions of her own murder were flashing inside her head. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, all she could see was her blood on the walls, her broken body lying battered and torn on the floor, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the roof …
A car door slammed and as footsteps approached the house she backed up against the sofa, grabbing it to stop herself falling. Her eyes, wide and petrified, were riveted to the door. The footsteps stopped. The handle turned, was rattled, then turned again.
‘Louisa! Louisa!’ Marianne called.
Relief buckled Louisa’s knees and she staggered to the door. ‘Marianne,’ she cried, throwing back the lock and wrenching the door open. ‘Oh, Marianne, thank …’ She stopped, looking past Marianne to where Consuela was standing in front of the Golf.
‘It’s all right,’ Marianne said softly in Louisa’s ear. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
But Louisa was already backing away.
‘Please,’ Consuela smiled, coming towards them. ‘I know it is difficult for you, seeing me here, but I swear, Louisa, I mean you no harm.’
‘Consuela has something to tell you,’ Marianne said, standing aside as Consuela walked into the house.
Louisa’s eyes were darting wildly between them as she continued to move away.
‘This will probably be very hard for you to hear,’ Consuela said, a note of compassion shaking her voice. ‘But you must believe me when I say it was even harder for me.’ Her face was haggard, her eyes were heavy with pain and her entire body seemed to be drooping.
‘We have just heard, an hour ago,’ she continued, with effort, ‘that Jake … that Jake found Martina earlier today and this time there is no question, he has killed her.’ She staggered slightly and Marianne caught her. Then turning her eyes to Louisa Marianne said solemnly.
‘I heard it myself on the news, Louisa. He tried to get away, tried to take Consuela’s granddaughter with him, but they caught him. He’s in custody now.’
Louisa’s eyes were blazing. ‘You’re lying!’ she yelled. ‘Both of you! You’re lying. Jake would never kill anyone! Never!’
‘Louisa, please,’ Marianne said, casting an anxious look at Consuela. ‘We’re telling you the truth. It’s all over the news …’
‘I don’t care! I don’t believe it! He wouldn’t do it I’m telling you. He loved Martina …’
As Consuela flinched Marianne tightened her hold. ‘Louisa,’ she said firmly.
‘No, I don’t want to hear it,’ Louisa cried, covering her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear your lies.’
‘Louisa, Erik and Morandi have vanished too,’ Marianne said. ‘No one knows where they are …’
‘But Sarah’s back in London!’ Louisa shrieked. ‘Sarah’s in London. Nobody’s done anything to her. She’s in London!’
Consuela and Marianne exchanged glances, but neither of them refuted it.
‘And who’s that out there?’ Louisa shouted pointing to the window. ‘Who is that on the lake you’re trying to make me think is Danny?’
Frowning her confusion Marianne walked to the window and looked out. Louisa watched her, breathlessly. ‘There’s no one there, Louisa,’ she said turning back.
‘But there was,’ Louisa raged. ‘So who is she?’
Marianne went to put a comforting arm around her. ‘This has been a very stressful time,’ she began.
‘Don’t,’ Louisa said, furiously slapping Marianne’s arm away. ‘Don’t touch me. There was someone out there. I saw her with my own eyes, so don’t try telling me I’m seeing things because I know what I saw and there was someone on that lake. Someone who knew my name, who shouted my name and waved to me. Someone who looked just like Danny. So who is it? Get her to tell you who it is!’
Marianne turned helplessly to Consuela who shook her head.
‘I don’t know who it could be,’ Consuela said, ‘but if she’s right and someone is out there then it’s all the more reason to get her away from here.’
‘No!’ Louisa cried. ‘No. It’s all the more reason to call the police.’
Consuela looked at Marianne. ‘I’ll wait in the car,’ she said.
‘The police have already been called,’ Marianne said, turning to Louisa as the door closed behind Consuela. ‘They’re out there now looking for Erik and Morandi. They know about you, they want you to go into Nice where they can give you your passport and get you out of the country before anything happens to you.’
‘Then why didn’t they come for me themselves?’ Louisa demanded.
‘Because it was easier for me when I know where the house is,’ Marianne answered.
Louisa’s mind was in uproar. She didn’t know what to think, or to say, or to do. Nothing in the world was going to persuade her that Jake had done what they’d claimed he had, but she’d just seen for herself how distraught Consuela
was …
‘Louisa, please come,’ Marianne coaxed gently.
Louisa looked at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes and sensing the pain in her turmoil Marianne took her in her arms. ‘Louisa, if I hadn’t heard the news with my own ears I wouldn’t be asking you to do this,’ she said. ‘But I did hear it and now I honestly believe you could be in danger if you stay here alone.’
Everything inside Louisa was recoiling from what Marianne was saying, she wanted to strike out against it, rant and rave that Marianne was lying, that Marianne had been tricked and was now tricking her, but the words just wouldn’t come. She wished she could say that she wanted to stay where she was, safe and secure in Jake’s house, cocooned by the memory of their love, but she knew she didn’t want to stay here. The figure on the lake, the looming trees, the miles of empty countryside were as frightening and as bleak as the terrible fear that Marianne was telling the truth. She was so torn that all she wanted was to run. But run where? There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
‘Come on,’ Marianne whispered, easing her gently towards the door. ‘It’ll be all right. I promise you, everything will be all right.’
Seeing them come out of the house a barely discernible smile curved Consuela’s lips and with eyes as bright and glittering as the moonlit lake she turned to the night shadows and willed Jake to come for her now.
Squashed into a telephone booth at the edge of a remote Provençal village Erik pressed his coins into the slot and dialled Jean-Claude’s number.
‘Jean-Claude! Is that you?’ he said when the ringing stopped.
‘Oui, c’est moi,’ Jean-Claude confirmed. ‘Where are you?’
‘Who’s with you?’
‘Just Didier.’
‘I’m in the Var, about fifteen minutes from Jake’s place. Have the police been?’
‘Yes, they arrived about ten minutes after you left. They want to talk to you again about Danny’s murder.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of.’
‘I’ve ’eard the news, Erik, I know about Jake’s arrest, so what’s going on?’
‘I’ll tell you when you get here. Has Marianne been in touch again?’
‘No.’
‘Well someone’s been to Jake’s place, that’s for sure, but they’ve gone now and wherever they are I think we can assume they’re with Consuela. Tell Didier to stay by the phone and get yourself over here.’
After giving Jean-Claude the directions and telling him to make sure he wasn’t followed, Erik sped back through the winding, leafy roads to Jake’s house. Dawn was just breaking and the lanes were still wet from the storm. He was unshaven, unwashed and starving. He should have thought to tell Jean-Claude to bring food, but it was too late to turn back now, with any luck Jean-Claude would already have left and it was vital that he got his car off the road as quickly as possible. The police wouldn’t only be looking for him with regard to Danny’s murder now, they’d no doubt be wanting to talk to him about the way he had stormed into Consuela’s house during the early hours of the morning, brandishing a gun and demanding to know where Consuela was. Either the boys weren’t saying or they genuinely didn’t know, but having satisfied himself that Consuela was nowhere on the premises he had left.
An hour later Jean-Claude pulled up outside the converted barn in his Renault. Erik came to the door and could have embraced him as Jean-Claude thrust a baguette and a lump of cheese at him and stalked into the house.
‘Things are looking very bad for you, Erik,’ Jean-Claude said sternly. ‘You are my friend, but I want you to tell me that I am not making a mistake in trusting you.’
‘You’re not making a mistake,’ Erik assured him. ‘I know how it must look, but believe me, Jean-Claude, if the police decide to haul me in now then the chances of our seeing Louisa again are right out the window.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Jean-Claude said, sitting on the brick fireplace.
Erik fixed him with haunted, bloodshot eyes. ‘Jake’s wife was killed the moment he got to her,’ he said. ‘They shot her right in front of him, right in front of the child too. I’m not sure what happened after, but obviously Consuela must have arranged things to make it look as though Jake could have done it.’
‘Mon Dieu!’ Jean-Claude murmured. ‘But surely Jake ’ad people with ’im who can swear that isn’t true.’
‘Yes, he did. But for now it’s their word against the word of Consuela’s people. And what won’t help is that this isn’t the first time Jake’s been arrested for Martina’s murder. He was when she first disappeared and I don’t know about you, but I don’t even want to think about how he must be feeling right now. He loved his wife, Jean-Claude. He never stopped loving her and to see her die that way … All I can say is that I hope to God no one ever hates me the way Consuela hates Jake.’
‘But why does she ’ate ’im so much?’
‘It’s a long story and as irrational in its madness as it is in its roots, just suffice it to say that she’s made busting up Jake’s marriage one of her great missions in life. Well, she’s succeeded now and what we have to concern ourselves with is finding out where the hell Consuela and Marianne have taken Louisa. The trouble is, the one person who might just be able to give us the answer to that is the one person we can’t contact. Jake.’
Jean-Claude was looking as alarmed as he was confused. ‘But what would Consuela want with Louisa now?’ he said. ‘Surely she ’as ’urt Jake enough …’
‘If Jake had managed to free Martina then Consuela would have held Louisa hostage to try and force Jake and Martina apart again,’ Erik interrupted. ‘But now that Martina’s dead Louisa is Consuela’s safety net. She knows that if Jake is released he’ll come after her and believe you me it’s only going to be a matter of time before Jake gets out of that jail. And once he does and Consuela finds out he’s on his way I’m sure you don’t have any problem imagining what sort of position that’ll put Louisa in.’
Jean-Claude didn’t. ‘Which is why we ’ave to find ’er before Jake is released,’ he said.
Erik nodded. ‘And which is why I can’t run the risk of the police taking me in for questioning about Danny’s murder right now. Apart from having to find Louisa, I’ve got to stop Jake getting to Consuela, because there’s no doubt that after what she did to Martina he won’t even hesitate, he’ll kill her and to hell with the consequences.’
Jean-Claude shook his head solemnly. ‘Do you ’ave any idea who did kill Danny?’ he said.
‘I’ll lay money it was the guy who’s making out he’s Jake’s father, whoever he is. Consuela doesn’t seem to want to soil her own hands, she pays other people for that. I’ve got to hand it to the woman, she sure seems to know what she’s doing when it comes to stitching people up. And now I don’t know whether to hope for Jake’s quick release or not because the longer he’s in that jail the worse it looks for me and him, but as soon as he comes out God only knows what’ll happen to Louisa.’
They were quiet for some time before Jean-Claude got up to try the phone. It was still dead. ‘I take it the nearest phone is in the village I came through,’ he said, taking his car keys from his pockets.
Erik nodded. ‘Who are you going to call?’
‘Didier. We need to know what’s ’appening. If the police ’ave been for you again, if Jake ’as been released, if, by any miracle, Marianne ’as been in touch.’
‘Jake’s release will probably be on the news when it happens,’ Erik answered. ‘But I don’t reckon it’ll be for a day or two at the very least.’
‘Then that gives us some time,’ Jean-Claude said.
Left alone with his tiredness and his thoughts Erik felt his grief for Danny swelling in his throat. There had been no time yet for him to deal with that and it wasn’t going to help anything if he gave in to it now. What he needed to do was somehow get hold of Jake and tell him what had happened here, for if Jake knew that he was putting Louisa’s life in danger by coming after Consuela then surely to
God he wouldn’t do it. But the only way of contacting Jake right now was through his father and when Erik had called San Diego several hours ago David Mallory had already left for Mexico. And now Erik didn’t have the first idea where the hell anyone was and the very idea of trying to contact a Mexican jail from a phone booth in France was so absurd it was almost laughable.
‘Sarah? It’s Erik.’
‘Erik! Oh, thank God,’ Sarah cried. ‘What’s happening? What news on Louisa? Have you found her yet?’
‘No,’ Erik answered. Almost thirty-six hours had passed now since Louisa and Marianne had left Jean-Claude’s and Erik was only calling Sarah now out of desperation. Just thank God that when she’d spoken to Jean-Claude Jean-Claude had told her what had happened to Martina, because Erik didn’t think he could face explaining it again. He’d known Martina and in his way had loved her too. ‘Sarah, I know it’s a long shot,’ he said, ‘and I know if you knew where Consuela might be holding her you’d have said, but I have to ask. Can you think of anywhere. Somewhere that might just give us a lead?’
‘It’s all I can think about,’ Sarah answered, ‘but I can’t come up with anything. I only wish I could. I take it you haven’t managed to make contact with Jake to ask him?’
‘No. You’ll have heard the news so you know he’s still in jail.’
‘What’s happening to his little girl, does anyone know?’
‘His father is down there, I imagine he’s taking care of her, but I don’t know anything for sure except that things must be moving in Mexico because the police here are searching for Consuela.’
‘Well surely that’s a good thing,’ Sarah said hopefully.
‘Yes and no. They found Marianne’s car this morning. There was no sign of Marianne. The car was abandoned in a ditch over in Villeneuve-Loubet. Apparently an eye-witness is saying that he saw a man getting out of it during the early hours of yesterday morning and from the description I’m damned sure it’s the man who’s been making out he’s Jake’s father.’
‘Who is this man, Erik?’ Sarah cried. ‘He keeps cropping up, someone must know who he is.’