Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

to carry on. Before that day, I want Louis to confess to his crimes, to my face, and to put a bullet in his head or a knife in his throat. That can only happen if we meet."

"And once you've shot him, his hidden colleagues will reveal themselves," said Abbie, "and kill you?”

"Yes, and that's okay. That's fine. Didn't I tell you trying to save me was a waste of time?"

“You did,” said Abbie, “but I’m rubbish at heeding sound advice.

Alice smiled but didn’t respond. Staring through the window, out to sea, Abbie sought the words that might convince Alice to let her help. Funny that, as Alice claimed she wanted to die, Abbie had decided the matriarch was worth saving. Regardless of all the older woman had done, Abbie couldn't face seeing Alice’s final moments in her dreams night after night. The punishment for failing those her dreams showed her.

"Alice," she said at last, at the same time as someone entered the room.

Turning away from Abbie, Alice clocked the entrant and gasped.

"Darling, what happened?"

At the gasp, Abbie had turned. As Alice spoke, Abbie met the newcomer's eye.

Alice's second youngest daughter raised her hand. Pointed at Abbie.

"What the fuck is she doing here?"

Standing in the doorway, red marks around her throat and fury in her eyes, was Ana.

Ten

For years, Abbie had been gate-crashing the lives of strangers, knowing she had less than two days to save them from a demise they would almost certainly not believe was so close at hand. The primary objective was also the most difficult to achieve: winning the stranger's trust in hours, if not minutes. Beyond this were myriad roadblocks and challenges presenting varying degrees of difficulty. A recurring theme in Abbie's mission was a person or event arriving like a spanner in the works of any trust built with the potential victim she had come to save, as though time did not appreciate Abbie foreseeing and trying to circumvent what it had planned to bring to pass.

Today's spanner was Ana.

With such roadblocks, when trust hard built was on the line, Abbie had learned quick decision making was vital. Indecision fatal.

From the moment Ana said, "What the fuck is she doing here?" Abbie knew she had seconds to decide how to deal with this new problem.

Alice looked from her daughter to Abbie and back. Lifting a hand, she touched Ana's shoulder, squeezed. Ana never took her eyes off Abbie.

If Abbie was going to lie, she had to decide what that lie would be and now. In two or three seconds, she had to cover all angles and ensure she could be utterly convincing when the inevitable questions came her way.

"Do you know this woman?" Alice asked Ana. She was staring at her daughter, who would still not look away from Abbie.

Abbie was a proficient liar. Practise makes perfect, after all. Another of her skills involved knowing when any lie, no matter how well crafted and told, would do more damage than the truth. Ana's voice rasped; the marks on her neck indicated someone had throttled her. Abbie could not see the back of the vile woman's head but anticipated a gash where Abbie had smashed her against the wall.

Alice pressed. "Ana—"

Lying was not the answer.

"—how do you know this woman?”

When Abbie had mentioned to Tony her meeting with Ana, he was surprised only that she had not tried to rape the younger of Louis' two sons. He knew she was cruel, twisted. Was so disgusted by her, he could not bring himself to confess to Abbie that she was his sister. Had been content to let Abbie believe Ana was an acquaintance.

At last, Ana looked at her mother.

Just because Tony knew what Ana was like, didn't mean her mother would.

"This bitch—"

But Alice was switched on. Had spoken to Abbie about how the older of Morris' daughters, Ana, had gone off the rails after his death.

"—standing in our house—"

Nine years in prison meant Alice had missed much of Ana's development. Abbie still believed, since her release, Alice would have noticed what her daughter had become.

"—tried to kill me."

Honesty was worth the risk.

"Took me by the throat and held a knife to my face. Would have killed me but my friends arrived. She smashed me against the wall and ran when they tried to stop her. Look."

Ana turned. Even from across the room, Abbie could see the gash along the back of her head. Dried blood matted what had been perfect hair.

Alice examined the scar. Took a deep breath. When she turned to Abbie, her face was as serious as stone. Everything hinged on what the matriarch said next.

"I think you have some explaining to do."

Ana's eyes narrowed. It took a lot for Abbie to resist breathing a sigh of relief. She was far from out of the woods, but Alice's words, even couched in potential anger, indicated Abbie would get the chance to say her piece. This further supported Abbie's belief that honesty was, in this case, the best policy.

"Forget explaining," said Ana. "This bitch tried to kill me. Mum, deal with her."

Alice turned to her daughter. Ana had less experience than Abbie dealing with such fraught situations. She believed her comments would play on her mother's maternal instincts, convince Alice to stop asking questions and get on with avenging this attack against her youngest living child. Ana failed to see her words invited suspicion and simplified Abbie's job.

Abbie said nothing. She had remained by the window as Alice went to her daughter and didn't move now, nor would she speak unless invited to by Alice. It was a risk, and she was betting a lot on it.

"Darling daughter," Alice said. "You know I love my children more than life itself. If Abbie has wronged you, there will be retribution. But how can I know what level of retribution is required until I know what happened?"

"You know what happened," said Ana. "She tried to kill me. The end."

Without realising it, Ana continued to dig. So long as