Her Sister's Secret

by E. V. Seymour

  I gaped into the darkness, expecting Scarlet to manifest in ghostly form. Would she appear with broken limbs and a smashed in face, like an extra from a Zombie movie?

  One hand flew to my temple; the other pulled the sheet up over my head. Then I remembered Zach and glanced at my watch. “Dammit,” I cursed through an expanse of Egyptian cotton. He’d been gone for over an hour. Where the hell was he?

  Panic streaming through me, I sprang out of bed and lurched towards the door. Sly and tricky, the walls of the bedroom winked and shifted. Another bout of sickness threatened to derail me but fear for my brother won out. I slammed my feet into flip-flops and, grabbing my keys and the small torch Lenny had given me, hauled myself downstairs.

  My phone was on the work surface in the kitchen, next to the microwave. Swooping it up, I called Zach. No reply. Went straight to his voicemail. I sent him a text and prised open the back door. A great gale of wind slapped me straight across the face. Rolling my collar up, head down, I crossed the garden. By the time I reached the carport, I was soaked through and my hair stuck to my scalp.

  Over the limit, I shouldn’t be driving. God help me. In desperation, I closed my ears to good sense and ignored the grumbling complaint of my conscience.

  Windscreen wipers at full belt, front and back, the car slalomed down the street, across roads wet and oily from weeks of dry weather. The noisy banging in my heart was only matched by the sound of rain tattooing a beat against the roof of my little car.

  The shop emerged out of a blur of streetlights. Several alarms had gone off along the row, although ‘Flotsam’ was obviously closed and curiously quiet. Craning my head, narrowing my eyes against driving wind and intermittent flashes of lightning, I could see no sign of Zach’s camper van. Perhaps, he’d gone home. Vaguely comforted, the pressure in my heart abated.

  I parked on double yellow lines and stepped out of the Fiat, straight into a puddle that splashed dirty water up the backs of my legs. Cursing, I let myself into the shop.

  There’s something spooky about an empty building at night, even one as familiar as this. Cruel illumination, that made my eyes hurt, told me that Zach had re-set the alarm like I told him to. Nothing was nicked, nothing moved, as far as I could tell.

  “Zach,” I cried out. “You there?”

  Silence ticking, I was alone. But I couldn’t shake off the thought that something was off.

  Fear brewing inside me, I walked nervously through to the back office to check the shop’s computer. It had an in-built camera for viewing each room. Empty space announced it had gone walkabout, which meant the security video was missing. Alarmed, I picked up the phone. Still working. I checked the till, which hadn’t been forced, and went upstairs. To be on the safe side, I liberated a vintage golf iron, a brass headed Hickory shafted putter, lethal if someone jumped me from the shadows.

  But nobody did.

  I prowled the upper storey, examined glass cabinets stuffed with jewellery and other people’s ancient keepsakes, and then returned downstairs. About to lock up, my mobile rang. Adrenalin dumped its dirty great payload. Combined with a hangover, it almost did for me. Getting a grip, I realised that it was probably Zach informing me he’d gone back to mud and mess.

  “Hello?”

  The voice at the other end screamed my name so loud I jumped.

  “Edie?” I said, in astonishment.

  “Thank God you’re there. You’ve got to get to the quarry. Now. Before it’s too late.”

  “Edie, you’re not making sense. It’s—” I broke off and stared at my watch. “After two in the morning. What the hell are you on about?”

  “Shut up. Shut up. Listen, for God’s sake. It’s Zach.” Her voice was bent out of shape with hysteria.

  “What about him?” I ignored the clammy sensation in my stomach.

  “He sent me a text.”

  “You?” I couldn’t get my head around that. Instantly, my bullshit detector sounded. No, not sounded, clanged. “Why?” I might as well have said I don’t believe you.

  “Zach sent it by mistake,” she answered, raging with frustration. “It was meant for Tris. He’s at the quarry. He’s in a real state.”

  “Tris is at which quarry?”

  “No,” Edie wailed, beside herself. “Zach is at Gullet quarry. I think he’s going to do something stupid. He texted that it was all his fault and he was sorry, although I don’t have a clue what he means.”

  Except I did. Oh God. Oh no. “Did you phone him?”

  “He’s not picking up.”

  “How long ago?” I stuttered.

  “I don’t know. Ten minutes, maybe less.”

  In one bound I was out of the shop, my phone welded to my ear. “Edie, call the emergency services. I’m on my way. Have you told Tris?”

  “I phoned him straightaway. He might get there before you. Shall I come too? I could leave the kids with my folks.”

  “No, do exactly as I say and, for God’s sake, hurry.”

  Chapter 77

  Gullet Quarry: the one Chancer and me had walked beside only yesterday. With its steep-sided walls and deadly drop, it was the perfect place for suicide.

  Suddenly Zach’s upbeat mood made horrible sense. He’d made a decision, as had Scarlet before him. To his mind, the ultimate choice would set him free, liberating him from responsibility and consequences. I shuddered at the thought that either, by accident or design, Zach had killed Drea, and this was his way out. As weird as it was, I still loved my brother despite his faults because I expected so much less of him than I did from my dad. It seemed impossible to think of my life without him.

  A burst of hail against the windscreen made me jump. Please, don’t let me be too late, I shouted to the empty interior of my car, jamming my foot flat against the accelerator.

  Aquaplaning around a bend, water gushing up on both sides of the tyres, I prayed. Prayed to reach him in time. Prayed to talk him out of what he had planned. Prayed for help. My mother’s mental state was in doubt at the best of times. With Scarlet’s death, she was clinging on by the tips of her fingers. If Zach took his own life, it would be like stamping on her hands until she let go and plunged over the edge into insanity.

  I drove into what felt the eye of the storm and it took forever to get to the lane that led up to the car park.

  Lightning bursts lit up the sky on the second of every second. When a long-horned cow ambled across the road, I pulled on the steering wheel, losing control and the car skidded off onto the flat verge, tipping up on two wheels. Fear ripping through me, I leant away, arms juddering with strain as tyres scrabbled and squealed, desperate to find purchase. In slow motion, the Fiat pitched back down with a greasy thud and slid back onto the tarmac.

  On I drove until another flash of lightning stabbed the night sky and illuminated Zach’s campervan, side-on, like a barricade at a checkpoint. Slamming on the brakes, I screeched to a halt, jumped out and ran. Didn’t even take the car keys with me.

  Rain drilled the ground in angry bursts and stung my face. Wind lifted the hem of my skirt, buffeting it around my waist. I didn’t care. Zach. I had to reach him. It was all that counted.

  Flashing my torch around revealed that the camper was empty. Sodden and shivering, I slipped round to the front, pressed my hand against the metal. The engine ticked beneath a bonnet that remained warm despite the downpour. He couldn’t have gone far.

  Buoyed with hope I had no right to feel, I took to my heels, and battled against a formidable sky that pulsed with wind and rage. For every step, I was driven back several paces.

  Battling around the metal barrier, I passed the ice-cream kiosk, desolate and intimidated by the storm’s fury, until I drew level with a line of boulders and natural line of defence against vehicular access.

  “Zach” I screamed. A marauding gust snatched and made off with my voice. The whole place seethed with dense dark shapes and skeleton trees, yawing and moaning.

  Desperate, I ran towards the fence. Jam
ming the stubby end of the torch in my mouth, I shinned up and over the five-bar gate. Landing on the other side, my eyes struggled against the strobe effect of a lightning strike at mega voltage. Urgently, I raked the murderous walls of the quarry, scoping the peak for signs of my brother. At any second, I expected to see Zach teetering on the edge before tumbling into the night and oblivion.

  By day, sluggish and inert, the stretch of water below roiled and boiled, spat and hissed; a living primal, vengeful thing, set to grab him. Surely, he hadn’t already jumped? And where the fuck were the emergency services? Was Zach in a queue of countless others waiting fruitlessly for help? On a destructive night like this there would be plenty of takers, and what about Chancer? Where was he?

  Startled by the thought, I flashed the torch around, eyes scanning the bushes and trees, half-expecting something or someone to step out. Why wasn’t he here?

  Swelling with fear, I recalled how furious he’d been the last time I saw him. I remembered his mouth twisting in disgust and anger. Chancer: a wife-beater. Chancer: a drug supplier. Chancer: oh my God, what if —?

  My hand dropped, torchlight pooling on the ground closest to the edge. Bright colour flashed across my line of vision. I edged near, part of me in denial, the other sharp with panic. Squatting down, terror scythed straight though me for, on the ground, dumped in a heap, Zach’s Tropical shirt.

  I scooped it up, briefly held it to my face, a heady mix of tobacco, booze and weed flooding my senses.

  In despair, I clambered to my feet, threw curses at the water, howled Zach’s name into the depths. In films, he would step out of the shadows and it would all be okay and happy ever after, but this was no movie. This was real. This was …

  Burning pain blazed across my shoulders, sending tremors along my ribs and spine. My arms flew wide, the torch flung from my grasp. Lifted off my feet with the force of the blow, I launched up, my arms splayed, and then down, falling and falling. Unable to save myself, I pitched headlong with a scream, and the taker of so many lives, opened its jaws and swallowed me whole.

  Chapter 78

  Stunned.

  In spite of the long dry summer, the quarry never heated up, and chill wind-whipped water clawed at my face. A force outside myself, as powerful as any assassin, sat on my chest. Disorientated, I flailed my arms, struggling to stay afloat, not sure in which direction to swim. All I saw was a vast expanse of wet and seething night.

  “Help,” I screamed. Gasping for air, my mouth filled with foul, rank-tasting filth, as if the combined body fluids of all those that had drowned before me had collected in this one stretch.

  Panicked, I kicked out, my head bobbing briefly above the surface. Darkness had other ideas. It threw its funereal coat over my head, pushing me deeper so that hidden currents could drag me down and finally do away with me. The more I fought, the stronger they became. With the electrical storm gathering pace and energy, one strike upon the water would put an end to it all. Either way, I was doomed.

  Night-blind and shivering, I cried out, yet my vocal cords wouldn’t work, and my words slurred. Cold penetrated so deeply its nails reached into every organ. My arms and legs failed to respond to the commands from my brain, and the blood in my veins slowed to a chug. Without energy, every cell in my body was in uproar. Cheats and liars and rebels, they didn’t belong to me.

  Soon, I would sink and that would be that. Any thoughts I had were unformed and flaky. If I imagined my life would flash before my eyes as my spirit drained away, if I believed I’d remember numerous happy times, I was wrong. I saw a man with a big smile and shining eyes. I heard his laughter crackling through the wind. I thought of him never knowing the truth about who killed his sister. I dreamt of all the places we would never visit together and the fun we’d miss, and closeness and intimacy—and—then—nothing.

  Molly, don’t give up.

  I heard Scarlet’s voice. Is this what happens when your body packs up? Does the dead clamour to greet you?

  I can help you.

  Go away. I don’t want your help. I want to sleep.

  No, Molly. Stay awake. Stay focused. If you don’t, your body will shut down.

  Stop nagging and leave me the hell alone.

  You have to fight.

  I can’t. No more fight in me.

  You’re still floating, aren’t you?

  I want to be with you and Zach.

  But Zach’s not here.

  What?

  You heard. Now swim. It’s this way.

  With a supreme effort, I opened my stinging eyes. Across the water, a ribbon of illumination ran from me to dry land. If only I could follow it. Somehow, I took a slow breath in, tried to give a little kick, tried to scull the surface with hands that didn’t belong and felt like arthritic claws.

  “I can’t do it.” Each word slid out of my mouth painfully slow and disappeared into the icy depths. It was useless. I was sinking. Drowning. Dying.

  Out of nowhere, I swear a force of energy reached out, scooped me up and lifted me high. Afloat, again, I’d stopped shivering and started tingling, neat adrenalin coursing through my bones. It felt like angel’s wings carried me back to dry land and I remembered Rocco and white feathers and—

  With a jolt, I found myself flat on my tummy, spluttering and wheezing, lungs on fire, and my face in the dirt. Dawn had taken its first tentative steps into a day still lashing with rain. Behind me, trees swayed, bent and snapped in a hissing roar. Wet-through, as cold and exhausted as I was, my body was firing again. Blood throbbed through my veins and to my extremities. Wiggling my toes and fingers, I bumped up against something small and solid. Miraculously, my torch had survived, and I closed my hand around it. That’s when I realised that I was not alone.

  Slowly, I tilted my head. I saw expensive trainers and jeans first, a yellow waterproof with the hood up next. Poised, like a knight in armour about to strike with a mace, the figure held something above me. What it was exactly, I couldn’t make out.

  “Stay right where you are.”

  And then I knew. I knew it all.

  Chapter 79

  Edie flicked her head and the hood peeled back to reveal her high cheekbones and pretty face. A thin smile briefly curved the edges of her mouth. It struck me that she was like a piece of fine art that only looks exquisite in a gallery. Out of its natural squillion pound environment, Edie was a cheap and tawdry fraud.

  In both hands, she held a cricket bat. Now I understood how I’d launched into the water; she’d used it to strike me and she’d use it again.

  “You killed Drea Temple.”

  “Nobody killed Drea Temple. She did it to herself. She was stoned. She fell. That’s on her.”

  “You attacked her.”

  “What do you expect? She tried to take Tristram from me.”

  “Poor little Edie, you always were a jealous cow.”

  “Stop it.” Her voice was a sly, defensive whine.

  Good. I wanted to press her nerves. I wanted her to lose control. Face down on the ground, my situation could not be worse. Edie seemed ten foot tall. Despite having good upper body strength from shifting furniture, I was slight. Exhaustion consumed my body. Fighting to get out of the water had burnt every atom of reserve energy. Fundamentally, if you’re on the floor, you’re in the shit and my only chance was to goad her into making a mistake. If she came at me, at least I had the prospect of grabbing her legs – if I could find the strength. “Call yourself a wife and mother? You should be bloody ashamed.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, do you hear?” Edie screeched. “I’m a good person. My children love me. I have responsibilities.” Her arms trembled, and she let out a sob.

  “You set out to kill Drea Temple.”

  “Shut up. Shut up. If you don’t, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Leave an animal carcass in my carport? Stick a blade in my kitchen table? Hit me like you hit Drea? You’re nothing but a needy bitch.”

  I flinched as the bat wavered in the
air. “Be quiet,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m not to blame. I’m a victim.”

  “For ten years you let Zach take the rap for your crime.”

  “That’s not fair,” she snivelled. “I told you. Why are you so horrible to me?”

  “Because you’re an evil eavesdropper.” I imagined how on, one of her trips to pester Zach about Chancer, she’d overheard Scarlet’s conversation.

  “No, no, no.”

  I’d had enough. I was cold. I was furious. With a stupendous effort, I went to get up. One smart smack sent rivers of pain across my shoulders and knocked me back down into the dirt. “Fuck,” I cursed.

  “You stay where I say you stay. Face down.” Her voice had lost its tremble. She was in charge, in control, back in the game.

  “What have you done with my brother?” I mumbled into the earth. “Where’s is he?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  I bobbed my head up. Mistake. Another crack across my back left me gasping with pain. Emboldened by my helplessness, Edie’s voice changed up a gear. “He might pull through, might not. Doesn’t matter because everyone will believe you attacked Zach after discovering he murdered Drea.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I howled through angry tears.

  “You should stay out of other people’s marriages.”

  “I’m not in your marriage. I’m not interested in your husband.”

  “But he’s interested in you.” The fabric of her waterproof crackled. I closed my eyes, braced for whatever would happen next.

  “Look up.” She spoke with sudden chilling composure.

  I was too afraid. I didn’t dare move.

  “I said look up.”

  Slowly, I lifted my head, angled my chin, bewildered. Edie was squatting down, the cricket bat on the ground beside her. In her hands, she held a bottle of clear liquid and I didn’t think it was water.

  Tears seeped out of the corner of my eyes. I was so cold, so scared, so incapable of movement.

  “Know what this is?”