Chapter 34
Euan saunters away from me as if he hasn’t a care in the world.
‘What was that about – wait, was he trying it on with you?’ There’s no mistaking the jealousy in Jameson’s tone. In other circumstances that might energise me, give me hope.
Could things still work out for us?
I can’t waste time dreaming of doomed romance. Fear dominates my thoughts, despite a savage determination to conquer it, to stay strong, make it through this nightmare.
This time, I won’t run. I will save my friends.
‘No,’ I say, swiftly unlatching the stable door again, and drawing Jameson inside.
I don’t bother with the flashlight this time, cloaking our encounter in darkness – it occurs to me that blasting a high-powered torch around the stables earlier was asking for trouble, advertising my presence to any watcher – to him.
Good move, Eilish.
He suspects I’m on to him, and my survival depends on him feeling safe. I curse myself for showing my hand. Coming out to the stables was a bad move.
‘Eilish …’ Jameson’s eyes are soft and molten, his lips parted slightly. I realise he thinks this is our moment and I hate to let him down – in other circumstances I’d want to sink into his eyes, fall into a kiss that stole breath and reason, but we have pressing matters to discuss.
In a whisper I recount what I know, tell him hastily about the newspaper article, the note, the photograph – safe in Gen’s book pressed against my belly inside my coat. I’m gabbling; there’s a real risk he’ll think I’m deluded, talking utter rubbish.
I need him to believe me. I can’t do this on my own.
‘Euan killed Alex?’ Jameson cries, and I frantically shush him.
‘Yes, and he’s been out to discredit me from the start, making me question my sanity and think I did it.
It almost worked.’ I draw in a breath, shuddering at how close I came to believing myself a murderer.
‘I need him to think it has worked, but he caught me snooping in the stables, and he might be on to me. I’m not safe, Jameson. He’s going to come for me too.’
Jameson’s jaw tightens. ‘He can’t hurt you, Eilish. Not with all of us right here. Not with me here.’
‘He managed it with Alex.’ I know Euan is resourceful; he’s played a clever, dangerous game, hiding in plain sight before … striking! Like he did with Leo, at the chess board, lulling him into a false sense of security, not showing his skill too soon.
Jameson swallows hard. He grabs my hand.
I draw as much strength and comfort from him as I can.
‘He’s dangerous,’ I say. ‘We need to tread carefully. It’s risky to confront him while we’re cut off, with no way to summon help …
I don’t think he knows I have the photograph, and I don’t suppose he knows about the newspaper article, the threatening message, Gen’s note.
He’s been in my room multiple times – planted evidence, searched.
The novel was in my wastepaper basket – he wouldn’t have thought to look inside an old book, and the photo Alex slipped under my door, hoping I’d see it and understand what he was planning, got caught beneath the rug …
I can still play along, pretend to be losing my mind, running scared. ’
‘That’s risky too,’ Jameson objects softly. ‘It’s all risky.’
‘But we don’t have a choice. We only have to make it through until morning. Then we can escape and summon help.’
By then, Euan will have disposed of any documents linking him to Gen. Beyond what I already have in my possession, there won’t be any evidence against him and I don’t know if what I have is enough. My sense of justice vies with self-preservation for supremacy.
Is it enough to escape?
I want him arrested, charged, locked away. ‘A confession would be great,’ I say. ‘Preferably on tape, but he’s destroyed our phones. Wait, would Leo’s phone still work as a recording device? The voice recording app should work even without a SIM, right?’
Jameson shakes his head. ‘Oh no, Eils. No way. You’re not baiting a murderer into confessing. That’s madness.’
I jut my chin. ‘I’m a forensic psychologist. Getting under people’s skin, making them trust me is what I do. I can do this.’
‘I know you can, but I don’t think you should. Our priority is staying alive until morning, and making sure the others do too.’
It’s a close-fought battle. Justice for Gen and Alex versus keeping all of us alive.
I’ve failed to protect people I’ve loved before.
But I’ve a chance to remedy that tonight.
‘Eilish,’ Jameson pleads. ‘Tell me you’re not going to do something stupid.’
I press my lips together, my mind whirring at a million miles an hour. Considering our options.
‘There are five of us,’ Jameson adds. ‘And one of him. If we tell the others what you’ve found, we can unite against him, take him down if he tries anything.’
‘That would mean convincing Becca that her boyfriend isn’t who he says he is, that he killed Alex.
That’s going to be a hard sell … Plus, we’d need a significant amount of time with them without him; we’d have to rely on everyone being able to play along convincingly to buy us time to surprise him and then, what would we do with him until morning? Tie him up? Lock him in somewhere …’
The speed of my thoughts hurts now, my head pounding.
Jameson considers. ‘You’re right. This needs more thought. The important thing,’ he says, ‘is to stay together. He can’t harm anyone unless he separates us.’
My eyes search his face in the gloom. I badly want to stroke the line of his jaw, feel the give of his lips, the crush of his arms. I want to drag him into the stables and coorie down in the hay and hide out until morning.
I want all this to be a distant dream, a nightmare I can wake from if I only try hard enough.
I push temptation aside. We can’t hide from this. Plus, Jameson never ran or hid from someone in need in his entire life.
‘We need to get back to the others. Whatever you do, don’t eat or drink anything Euan prepares. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to drug us.’
‘Jesus.’ Jameson blows out a breath as the reality of our situation dawns on us. Our survival depends on us outsmarting a murderer for the next twelve hours.
Is there any hope of us getting Becca, Kimmy and Leo onside?
The story sounds far-fetched; they’ll think it’s a last-ditch attempt from me to clear my name.
There’s a sound then, the shuffle of boots on snow, the clump of feet and harsh suck of breath in the frigid air.
We both go rigid. Then comes the scrape of the latch, the faint squeak of the door.
I don’t think about it, just grab Jameson and pull him down to me, immerse us both in a kiss that takes us from cold to hot and spicy in a split second.
Hunger and heat overwhelm me as Jameson’s grip tightens on my waist and he kisses me back. Hard.
A slice of light fills the gap in the door, pours over us. I know it’s going to be Euan, and the prospect scares me, but now my heart beats with something other than fear. We break apart, and I feign the half-guilty, half-smug expression of the caught-out lover.
Euan smirks, no trace of the evil I glimpsed in him minutes earlier when he confronted me. ‘All right, love birds. Becca sent me to look for you. She wants everyone back at the house before the next bout of weather hits. It’s starting to look nasty again.’
He’s so different from the man who threatened me minutes earlier. He’s relaxed, casual. His expression is mild, the mask back in place.
Jameson’s hand grips my waist so tightly that his fingers pinch.
I bite my lip, study Euan from beneath my lashes, trying to maintain the half demure, half cheeky facade.
‘We were just … keeping warm.’ I giggle.
It doesn’t suit me, but it seems like Euan’s buying it.
He thinks he’s got me where he wants me – questioning my sanity, trying to distract myself from my crimes with a doomed dream of romance.
This could play into my hands – I need him to believe this is what brought me out here to the stables: an assignation with Jameson.
Not an attempt to find evidence against him.
I push harder. ‘I’m not sure I want to go back to the house with the others,’ I say, in a woeful tone.
I’m trying to sound defeated, harmless. ‘Despite what they say, I know they still suspect me of harming Alex, and throwing their phones in the pool. Becca does, and Kimmy for sure.’ I manufacture a catch in my voice, wipe at fake tears.
Jameson plays along, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He uses the hug to angle his face away from Euan; he doesn’t do subterfuge. Jameson’s not a good liar.
I watch Euan’s confidence grow as he falls for my sham.
He laughs. ‘All this drama … I don’t want to get involved.
I do think someone’s messing with our heads – the phones in the pool.
Maybe it was you, maybe someone else.’ He shrugs.
‘I’m done with this damn house party. I just want a quiet night before the fucking circus that’s going to hit us when we call the police tomorrow.
’ He leans against the door jamb, looking nonchalant.
‘But you can’t stay out here. Come on back to the house, we’ll have a drink and try to relax a bit. ’
There’s nothing for it. I lean into Jameson and we follow Euan back across the courtyard.
We circuit the courtyard, past the path that leads to Euan and Becca’s cottage. I notice the smoke billowing from the chimney. Why would there be a fire lit in the cottage when Euan’s been at the main house with us all day?
Unless he was burning something – destroying evidence?
I’m scared that we’re already too late and Euan has obliterated any evidence linking him and Genevieve. Surely he can’t cover his tracks completely – there has to be a trail leading back to Johnny Metcalfe. No one can reinvent themselves that well.