In for the Kill (23 page)

Could I overpower him? Would I stand a chance? Could I jump him before he shot Ruby and take him into the sea with me? But what would happen to Ruby? And at this time of year we’d only last a few minutes in the freezing cold water. We were going further, heading around the coast towards the lifeboat station. The sea was so rough that it was like being on a big dipper in the funfair, only wet and not nearly so much fun. I stared at the gun: would it still work if it were wet?

Miles shouted, ‘Keep going.’

He eyed Ruby. I could see that he was working out another way to kill her. I knew that all he had to do was push her over the side. Then he’d tackle me. I could put up a fight but Ruby would be gone.

‘I have to turn back.’ The wind snatched at my words and tossed them into the Solent. I knew it was too late. I couldn’t see over the waves, we were riding them high then plunging into the troughs, the sea washing over us. At any minute a wave could and probably would hit us and take us down with it. I felt behind me. Somewhere there were a couple of flares, kept purposely near the helmsman in case of emergency. This was one all right. I could and should be able to lay my hands on one in the dark. I had to wait for Miles to look away, but I couldn’t wait forever.

Then as a particularly nasty wave bashed into us and Ruby slid down onto the deck my fingers curled around it. I didn’t know if it would work but it was worth a try. If I didn’t do something we were all going to die. If I tried we might have a chance. Then suddenly the air was filled with a loud bang as the lifeboat was launched, and I could no longer afford to hesitate.

I wrenched out my hand, pointed the flare directly at Miles, pulled Ruby towards me and shot the flare as Ruby and I went over the side of the boat together. A bright white light lit the sky.

I thought I heard Miles cry out. The icy sea sucked the breath from my body. I struggled to hold Ruby above the tumultuous waves; her body was limp and weighed a ton. I concentrated on staying alive, trying to forget the mind numbing cold, the heavy clothes that were pulling me down, the salt that was swilling into my mouth and filling my lungs.

I was losing my grip on Ruby. I couldn’t hold onto her any longer. She was slipping away. I was so cold. I could see David and Philip’s laughing faces before me; I could hear them speaking, see them running along the beach, chatting on the boat with me on a bright summer’s day. My mother was smiling at me, her arms were open and a white light was all around her. I was no longer cold; I was floating peacefully to that white light. It was over. Then strong hands were pulling me back, my mother was fading, the light had gone, something was being tied around me and I was being lifted out of the water.

‘Ruby, ’ I managed to choke.

I heard someone say, ‘It’s all right. We’ve got her.’

Hospital was the last place I could afford to go. Too many questions: like what was I doing in a boat in the middle of a stormy night with an elderly lady? I was the one with the criminal record, not Miles. I alone had heard Miles’s confession. In DCI Crowder’s eyes I was still James Andover. How was I ever going to prove my innocence now with Miles dead? And I was sure he was dead. No one could survive taking a flare full on. I had killed him in self-defence, but by the time I explained that (if they let me) it would be too late to meet Rowde. And meet him I had too because I still didn’t know where Vanessa and my sons were being kept.

In the general commotion of getting Ruby into an ambulance and Miles’s body from the sea I was able to duck into the darkness of Beach House Lane and, shivering in the silver thermal blanket the ambulance man had draped around me, I found a footpath that led back onto the beach and stumbled my way around the shore until I came to the Embankment. No one came after me. My adrenalin and my desperation were keeping me warm and propelling me forward.

There was no sign of life around my houseboat or Scarlett’s. Scarlett’s car had gone and I guessed that she was on her way to the hospital. I hoped Ruby was all right, but I wasn’t betting on it.

A steaming hot shower, a shot of whisky and clean dry clothes and I was once again shutting the door behind me. Armed with a powerful torch I climbed into my car and headed for Steven’s house. There was a light on. It was 2am.

Steven answered the door. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, but then I guessed he was in a state of shock and that numbness that follows bereavement.

I followed him through to the living room. He looked awful. I was no picture either I thought, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the tiled fireplace.

‘You said that Miles used to fly into Bembridge regularly. Do you know where he went when he came here?’ I felt as though this was my last chance. Miles had to have a holiday home on the Island, otherwise why else would he come here so often? And I was convinced that must be where he was holding Vanessa and my sons.

Steven didn’t answer me. ‘Please, Steven, this is important to me. Miles is the person who framed me. He’s holding my family hostage and he killed Deeta.’

My words finally penetrated Steven’s sorrow.

‘It was him? The murdering bastard. I’ll kill him for that and for what he’s done to my father.’

‘You’re too late. I’ve done the job for you.’

I sat down heavily. I would have to keep my rendezvous with Rowde. I just hoped he didn’t learn of Miles’s death before then. I would kill Rowde or be killed. I was coming to the end.

‘I felt sure he flew them here, Vanessa and the boys,’ I muttered.

‘A woman and two boys did fly in but they weren’t with Mr Wolverton,’ Steven said.

My head shot up. My heart leapt into my throat. I could hardly dare to hope. Miles had got someone else to do his dirty work, unless Rowde could fly an aeroplane, which I doubted.

‘A small dark-haired woman about forty?’ I asked, eagerly.

‘Mrs Newberry, yes.’

‘You know her?’ I said, surprised.

‘Of course, she and Mr Newberry have a house on the Island. That’s why they fly here –’

‘Who flew them in?’

‘Mr Newberry, of course…’

Gus! He’d brought them here? I sat up amazed and confused. Steven must have got it wrong.

‘When was this?’ I asked.

‘Yesterday morning.’

That shook me. It was the day after Gus and I had returned from Guernsey. After he had shown me the note to say that Rowde had taken them.

It wasn’t possible. Steven must be mistaken.

Grief had made him confuse the weeks.

‘Are you sure it was Gus Newberry?’ I persisted.

‘Positive.’

I held Steven’s eyes. He didn’t seem confused.

He wasn’t lying either. Why should he be?

I ran a hand through my hair and stood up, trying desperately to make some sense of this.

How could he be right? Vanessa and the boys had been kidnapped by Rowde. Gus had been distraught. There had been the note on the kitchen table. Then I remembered. He hadn’t shown it to me. I hadn’t seen what was written.

Gus had picked it up and said, ‘They’re gone.’

Of course they had gone, but not to the Isle of Wight. They must have been staying elsewhere, waiting for Gus to collect them and fly them here the following day. Which meant that Gus knew all along they hadn’t been kidnapped. Gus must be in league with Rowde. Why? What did he want from me? Money? Did he really think I was Andover and he had used my family to get the three million from me? Was Gus in financial difficulty? How much did Vanessa know about this?

‘Steven, where is Gus Newberry’s house?’ I asked, holding my breath, willing him to know.

‘Gully Road, Seagrove Bay. It’s new. Mr Newberry only bought it last year, a three storey house he told me.’

Steven barely noticed me leaving. I stared through the rain-spattered windscreen negotiating the dark, empty roads towards Seagrove Bay.

Behind every deception there was yet another deception. I could hardly keep up with it, or comprehend it.

I turned into Gully Road and drove slowly down it. There were houses on the right hand side only. Towards the end, just before the bay, was a large detached three-storey house. It was in darkness. It was the early hours of Sunday morning. There was no sign of Rowde’s car. I hadn’t expected to see it. This must be Gus’s house.

With a pounding heart I rang the bell. There was no answer. I rang again, this time keeping my finger on it. A light came on in the upstairs bedroom and then in the hall.

‘Who is it?’

Relief flooded through me as I recognised the voice. ‘Let me in, Vanessa.’

‘Alex! Go away please.’

‘Are David and Philip there?’

‘Alex, this won’t help.’

‘Help what?’ She didn’t sound like a terrified kidnapped woman. But then why should she when she had come here with her husband? ‘Do I have to shout at you through the door? I could wake the boys up. Do you want them asking questions?’

‘You can’t take them away from me, Alex.’

So that was it. ‘Is that what Gus told you?’

‘They’re not going to live with you in Switzerland or anywhere else when you claim the money you stole. I’m not letting you take them. I’m calling the police.’

‘You do that,’ I said tautly. ‘But first tell Gus what you’re going to do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is he there with you?’

‘No.’

She was lying. ‘Tell him I don’t have the money.’

I left her. There was no Rowde or marble man here. There was no kidnap. Rowde had been paid by Gus to threaten me and Rowde had been conned into believing I really did have three million pounds. I didn’t think he was going to be very happy when he discovered he’d been tricked. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him, but it looked as though I might be. It was either that or confess everything to the police. I could just see Crowder’s look of disbelief before he charged me with the murder of Westnam, Deeta and Miles. What was I going to do? I had to go back and confront Gus, and I had to do so in front of a witness, Vanessa.

I turned back, but had hardly gone two paces before a hand gripped my shoulder and spun me round. I was staring into the large, solemn face of DCI Crowder.

‘You’ve been very busy, Alex. I think it’s time we had a chat.’

My heart sank. This could only mean one thing: Crowder was about to arrest me. I had no choice but to fall into step beside him. I could hardly run away. I wouldn’t get far. I could see the waiting car just ahead of us.

Crowder continued, ‘You might like to know that a man’s body has been washed up at Niton.

What’s left of his fingerprints matches those of Clive Westnam. Darren Cobden, the man in the storage warehouse where Joe kept your file, has also been found dead, on the tip at Port Solent in Portsmouth.’

This was worse than I had dared to imagine. I had forgotten about poor Darren, his chocolate covered little girl and his harridan of a mother.

‘Quite a trail of murder and deception, wouldn’t you say?’ Crowder posed.

I snatched my head to look at him. ‘I didn’t kill any of them.’

‘Not even Miles?’

‘That was self-defence. He was going to kill Ruby Kingston and me.’

‘And Westnam?’

‘A thug called Rowde and his henchman are responsible for that. Miles killed Joe Bristow, Darren and Deeta. He was going to kill me.’ I searched Crowder’s face. It was devoid of expression. ‘Please, you have to believe me,’ I pleaded, seeing my freedom slip away.

‘And have you discovered the identity of James Andover?’ Crowder asked, quietly.

‘It was Miles Wolverton.’

Christ, he still didn’t believe me! My ex wife and sons might be safe, but I wasn’t, not from arrest and not from Rowde.

‘Get in the car, Alex.’

I did as I was told with a sinking heart. There had to be a way I could make Crowder believe me. Sergeant Adams started the engine and pulled away. Crowder swivelled to look at me.

Suddenly I saw there was something different in his expression. I hardly dared to build my hopes up. Was it just possible he was prepared to listen to me, and to believe me?

‘I –’

He held up a hand to staunch me. ‘It’s all right Alex, we know what Miles told you.’

I stared at him open mouthed. Then the light slowly dawned. I recalled the dark car with tinted windows parked on the slipway on my first day of freedom. Whilst I had gone for a walk a surveillance team had slipped in and planted a listening device. They’d
heard
Miles’s confession.

Relief washed over me, threatening to overwhelm me.

‘You bugged the houseboat,’ I said and stared out of the window trying to get my emotions under control. I was surprised to see that we were heading back towards St Helen’s and not to Ryde and the police station. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I thought you might like a lift home.’

I was taken aback but didn’t comment. Instead I said, ‘You’ve been listening to everything, including me being beaten up by Rowde’s thug.

You even heard me making love to Deeta. Why didn’t you tell the local force she was with me the morning she died?’

‘Why should we? We know you didn’t kill her.’

It took a moment to click, then I understood.

‘You were following me.’ I could have sworn that no one had been.

‘Yes.’

My brain was beginning to function. ‘You let me see that detective following me the morning of Joe’s death. He was so obvious that I would believe I would be able to spot anyone else.’ I’d even bragged to Rowde that I could spot and smell a copper. Well, I’d been wrong, thankfully.

‘But why the interest? Did you really think I would lead you to the money?’

Crowder glanced at his watch. We were at the top of St Helen’s. ‘Pull over on the other side of the green,’ he instructed the thin-faced sergeant.

I stared at Crowder surprised, but he said nothing until we had stopped.

‘DCI Clipton was coming to see you on the day of your release to tell you that he had got it wrong. He believed you to be innocent.’

‘Not much good to me then,’ I said with bitterness. ‘Why did he tell his daughter he was going to see Andover if he thought me innocent?’

‘Because he knew that Miles Wolverton was going to pick you up on your release from prison.