Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DRAKE
The extinguisher spray hits the spilled petrol a second after it catches fire, coating the bound figures in white foam. The can empties until nothing emerges from the nozzle but a glut of creamy liquid.
“Drake!”
I toss it to the side and, while Arnold runs across the patio to freedom, I run to them, knife out to cut the drenched figures free from the chairs. Helping Cadence to stand. Helping her mother.
My head insists they’re okay, I came in time to save them.
My heart screams with fear I’m too late. Even as I hug my girl close, heart thumping in a jagged rhythm.
“Get into the shower,” I instruct. “Douse yourself in case he comes back.”
Cadence hesitates, then nods, running to her mother and helping her into the lobby. The smothering foam was concentrated on them, but the remaining spill of petrol could still catch.
I want to stay.
I want to keep embracing Cadence. To stroke her hair and reassure my aching heart that she’s safe.
Instead, I head out the back door, standing in the exit as the sky illuminates with lightning, then my vision shortens to a metre as the world is drenched by a summer storm.
I cut across the patio; arm raised as an inadequate umbrella as I struggle to work out which direction Arnold ran. The garage seems a safe bet, but when I fight against the torrential downpour to the building, the door is firmly shut.
Water hits me from above and splashes from the ground until I’m soaked. The path around the side of the house runs with water, the earth baked too dry in the past week to absorb the moisture.
When I reach the corner, another bolt of lightning sends jagged arcs across the sky, illuminating the garden. Empty.
Thunder rolls across the landscape, crashing and roaring as loudly as the waves striking the rocks in the harbour. I fight forward, my feet slipping out from under me as I push towards the cliff side path.
“Drake!”
I scramble to my knees, turning towards the sound. Cadence stands near the house, hands raised, a shotgun pointed at her back.
“You never make things easy, do you?” Arnold shouts, jabbing at her shoulder until she steps forward, his eyes on me. The words meant for me. “Your mother was worthless. You meant nothing to me. I never would have interacted with either of you again if she’d kept her mouth shut.”
I try to signal to Cadence.
The loaded shotgun doesn’t scare me, but the fact it’s pointed at her does.
I need her to get away.
“Just drop your weapon,” I shout. “It’s all over. I called emergency services before I stepped inside.” I cock my head, pretending to listen. “Can’t you hear them? They’re on their way.”
“You could have been something,” Arnold yells, too preoccupied with his own grandiose story to care about mine. “I was going to invite you to work with me, build the company into something bigger and stronger.”
I can’t help it. I break into something closer to hysterics than genuine laughter.
The idea he thinks that’s a valid life goal is ridiculous.
“Stop fucking laughing at me!”
“I don’t even know what you do,” I yell in between bouts, holding my stomach, the tears mixed with the rain as they stream down my face. “You’re a short, overweight man who’ll be bald in a few years. You inherited everything you claim credit for. Nice work being born to rich parents, you fat fuck.”
He roars and I tense, hoping he’ll abandon Cadence and run straight for me. But he prods her with the shotgun, driving her forward, making my heart lodge in my throat.
I step towards him, too. Needing to be closer if I’m to have any chance of saving her.
Her eyes meet mine and I tilt my head towards the house, dropping my eyes to the ground.
She nods.
“You don’t even have good taste. All this money and you never learned how to spend it. You send staff out to select everything.”
Arnold jabs Cadence again, and she stumbles forward, falling to one knee while I dart to the side, putting the cliff path at my back, moving away from my father.
And the tension leaves my muscles as he falls for the trick, following me as Cadence crawls in the other direction. He gives her one scathing glance, then his eyes lock to mine.
He’s dismissed her.
I retreat another step, calculating how far I have left to go before the cliff edge.
It can’t be that far out of reach.
Another step back and my foot hits concrete. The viewing platform. I take another step, willing Arnold to follow.
He does.
Cadence gets to her feet, racing to the door where her mother hovers, needing the frame to support her sagging body.
They hug and the tight knot in my chest releases.
A few more steps.
Just a few more.
Give them time to run to the neighbouring property.
Earn them time to get somewhere safe.
“Why did you even kill the pharmacist?” I yell. “You weren’t on his radar. Nothing he did would’ve come back on you.”
“He was a loose end just like your girl and her mother.” Arnold’s eyes dart to the pair but with the rain coming down in torrents, they’re hidden from sight. “This is your fault. The damn bottle of codeine. Do you think I’m too dumb to remember what the label looked like as I force-fed your mother every pill in the bottle?”
His laugh is harsh, jagged, like he’s coming apart at the edges.
“All of you conspired in a lie with those painkillers. If you hadn’t gone to the pharmacist, I might have let myself be fooled into thinking it was over. But you couldn’t resist rubbing your knowledge in my face, could you?”
I scarcely remember what he’s talking about.
My head had ached worse than ever before, then Cadence helped me. She put aside all the bullshit between us and cared for me like I mattered to her.
Showing me again exactly who she is.
The lie about painkillers had barely registered. She was just trying to stop my father yelling at me while I was in pain.
I stop.
The knife I used to cut Cadence and her mother free is my only weapon and Arnold’s too far away to use it. I need him to come closer, but he circles me at a distance.
When lightning cracks across the heavens, I see the knowing expression in his face.
If I want to kill him, I’ll have to rush him.
The moment I do, he’ll fire the shotgun in my face.
Soon, Arnold has walked far enough to grasp the iron railing; the only support offered in the middle of the thunderstorm.
The next lightning strike silhouettes him against the raging sky.
“She never wanted you,” he says, rain obscuring his expression. “Your mother. She wanted to go to a doctor and scrape you out. You owe your life to me.”
“After she invested another seventeen years in raising me? Nah, old man. I don’t think so. That’s not how parenthood works.”
“I should have let her.”
He’s so absorbed in seeing how his insults land, I dart another few inches closer. There’s two metres between us now. One more lunge and I could have him.
“She begged me,” he continues. “At the end. She got on her knees and begged for her life. It was pathetic.”
A haze of anger blindfolds me for a second. It’s only when he fires, the blast singeing me as it skims just above my shoulder, that I stop. “One shell left. If that’s your aim, I don’t rate your chances.”
I hold the knife out to my side, planting my feet to form a staunch base, readying myself for one final effort to rid the world of his menace.
Or die trying.
“She even let me fuck her one last time, begging for mercy.”
I hurl myself at him.
He swings the shotgun.
My shoulder catches the barrel, hard enough the knife jolts from my hand while momentum carries me forward.
And he fires again at point blank range.