Chapter 35 #2
The rope around his ankles is thick, and damp from the humid air.
He fights with the knots, swearing and sweating, until he finally gets his hands free.
We slump at the side of the pool, breathing hard for several moments.
His wound continues to seep, and I find a towel on one of the nearby loungers.
I press it to his temple and encourage him to hold it.
Jameson finds his voice, tells me what happened.
‘I was pretending to be asleep. I thought you’d realise what I was doing—’
‘I was pretending to be asleep,’ I interrupt. ‘Until I wasn’t. I actually did drop off. There must have been enough of the drug Euan used in the tea to knock me out.’
‘Me too,’ he admits. ‘When I woke, you were out for the count. Everyone was. I tried to wake you, but you were sound. I decided to take a look around, see what Euan was up to. I found him in the shed, syphoning off petrol from the generator into buckets.’
The metal clang, the liquid that sloshed over my feet in the hall. I was right.
‘Jesus,’ I breathe.
‘He knows we’re on to him. He’s going to burn this place to the ground, Eils. With all of us inside.’
My stomach drops, hollow with fear. ‘We need to get Becca, Leo and Kimmy out.’
‘How?’ Jameson seems defeated by his ordeal and the scale of the threat. ‘There are three of them, and they’re way more drugged than we are. We can’t carry them.’ His bleakness makes me stronger somehow.
I can do this.
I’m not going to let anyone else die.
‘Maybe we can just get them out of the main house. Put them in one of the outbuildings where they’ll be safe.’
Jameson considers this. ‘Or we can take out the source of the problem. I got careless before, let Euan catch me.’ He shakes his head, angry with himself. ‘I won’t make that mistake again. I can take him, Eilish. Lock him up in here, where he can’t hurt anyone else—’
‘We don’t know where he is. He could set the place alight at any minute!’
Jameson leans back on his arms, frowns. ‘Euan knows we’re on to him – knows someone has that photograph. He must have thought Alex had it, so he killed him to protect his secret.’
‘Yeah. He tossed Alex’s room. He probably searched Alex’s pockets too when he climbed down to the body … But he doesn’t know who has it, or where exactly it is now. And I have another photo too.’
‘So, he’s looking for it but he doesn’t know where it is or who has it. It sort of makes sense to burn the entire place, destroy all and any evidence. Us included.’
‘If I could just get him talking,’ I say, the idea lighting a fire in my belly. I’ve talked to plenty of psychopaths, albeit not in these circumstances. Usually, I’m talking to them after their crimes, not trying to prevent them being committed.
I’m still hanging on to the idea of justice, as much as survival. ‘If I can get him to confess—’ I pull Leo’s phone out of my pocket and show it to Jameson. ‘I can record him.’
‘It’s too dangerous, Eils.’ Jameson frowns. ‘But maybe I can lure him away from Tarnmore, give you time to rouse the others and get them out.’
That’s not a bad idea. If one of the flock wandered off, he’d have to head off after his lost sheep. But Jameson shouldn’t be the one to do it.
‘It makes more sense for me to lure him away,’ I say, knowing Jameson is going to hate the idea.
‘Think about it. Euan already thinks he’s got you out of the way, locked in here, so you have an advantage.
If he sees you, he’ll know you had help getting out.
Plus, you’re bigger and stronger than me; you might actually be able to get the others out.
I’m not going to be able to move Leo, am I? ’
Jameson shakes his head, but I can tell he sees the sense in what I’m saying.
‘I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way.
’ He winces, presses the towel more firmly to his head.
I don’t know how bad the injury is, and I’m too scared to look.
I know head wounds bleed a lot, but the amount of red streaking his face is frankly terrifying.
I press my advantage. ‘It makes sense,’ I repeat. ‘You know it does. You’re also injured … We need time, to get the others out, and we need to raise the alarm. I can make it across the hills, buy you time to save them …’
‘In this weather? You could die in a fucking snowdrift – and that’s if Euan doesn’t catch up to you. I really don’t think this a good idea.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
Jameson rubs his wrists where the rope has chafed his flesh. He has nothing else to offer.
*
Creeping through the dark, quiet house, we are both the hunters and hunted.
Just like my dream. We have no idea of knowing where Euan is, but if he’s been back to the library whilst I’ve been looking for Jameson, he’ll know I’m awake and be searching for me too.
We circle, slipping into rooms, listening for footfalls, the movement of air that would suggest another person inhabiting these spaces.
First, we check the library. There we find Leo and Becca where I left them – still sound asleep, except they’re now bound hand and foot as Jameson was.
The rope looks like old washing line, or something similar. Rudimentary material, expert knots.
Euan has been back – he knows I’m awake.
‘Should we untie them?’
Jameson shakes Leo roughly by the shoulder. He moans in his sleep but does not stir. ‘They’re out cold. I’ll come back here and untie them once you’ve left.’ He still doesn’t look happy about the plan, but he’s stopped arguing with me.
Our next stop is my bedroom. The door is wide open – Euan’s already been here, looking for me. Or something else? I reassure myself that I still have the note inside the book, the newspaper article, the photo of Gen and her brother.
The room is icy now, uninviting. My earlier idea of locking myself in here to wait out the storm until dawn holds far less appeal with a murderer prowling the halls, planning to burn the place to the ground …
Euan has been in here – I can feel his presence.
My suitcase is now open, stuff chucked haphazardly.
My make-up is strewn across the floor and bedding has been torn in haste to search within its folds.
The bloody bow tie and Alex’s phone are both missing.
Maybe he still thinks he can use them against me somehow.
I retrieve my first aid kit and Jameson and I lock ourselves in the en suite. He drops the bloodied towel in the bath, and I inspect his wound by the light of Leo’s phone torch. ‘How do you feel?’ I prod at his head and he grimaces.
‘A bit dizzy,’ he admits. ‘But we don’t have time for me to have concussion.’
‘Concussion is no respecter of time restraints …’ I say, trying to smile. I soak a washcloth and clean the cut that bisects his eyebrow. I can’t help but think he’s going to have a rather attractive scar … ‘What did he hit you with?’ I catch the flicker in his eyes before he looks away. ‘Jameson?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you unduly,’ he begins.
‘Consider me already worried – duly as it happens.’
He bites his lip.
‘Seriously, Jamie, you’re scaring me. What did he hit you with?’
Jameson meets my gaze. ‘The butt of a shotgun.’