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

asked. "An ex-con on the cusp of old age. That's noble, is it?"

"I think so. I based my decision on who Alice is as a person today. Her past, her age; I'm interested in none of that."

"You just want to keep Alice alive?"

"That's what I said."

"And you think I might stand in your way?"

Abbie shrugged. "From what I hear, you blame Alice for your brother's death."

"You are well informed, aren't you?"

"Alice and I have a lot in common. We barely know each other, but she's decided to place her trust in me. Desperate times call for desperate measures. After all, she's predicated today will be her last day on Earth."

Louis raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

It had been a risk, divulging this information, but one Abbie considered worth taking. Her mind was whirring. Every second in Louis' company, she built a clearer picture of what was going on, of where the danger to Alice's life really lay.

"Do you blame Alice for your brother's death?"

Louis considered.

"If not for her, he’d still be alive."

"That's a backwards answer that opens all kinds of people to recrimination. Is it not also true that he’d still be alive had you not decided to send him to rob Alice? Had he not decided to shoot his way past the police? Had the police decided to lay down their weapons, take his bullets, and let him pass? It's a backwards way of answering the question, and a stupid way, too. But it tells me what I need to know."

“What's that?"

“You don't blame Alice. Maybe in the heat of the moment, but not anymore."

On this hypothesis, Louis chose not to comment.

"I assume you know Alice and I are due to meet tonight?" he said instead.

"I do."

"And she believes I plan to kill her at this meeting?"

"Not you. Your people."

"We agreed to meet alone. We both gave our word."

"And she intends to keep hers."

"But doesn't believe I'll keep mine?"

Abbie nodded. Louis pulled himself further up in the bed, dragging with him the duvet.

"I don't blame Alice for my brother's murder," he said.

"I know."

"So this is Alice's hypothesis. Blaming her for Niall’s murder, I reacted in the heat of my anger, killing her daughter. At our meeting, she intends to force me to confess to the murder, at which point she'll shoot me dead, and whoever I brought with me will step out and kill her?”

“That about sums it up,” said Abbie. "She thinks that would be a neat ending. After all, her life’s has been blotted by depression since Aurora's murder. If she could avenge her daughter and escape the pain of her loss in one evening, I think she'd call that a pretty good deal."

Louis was staring again. Here Abbie was, pointing a gun at his torso but divulging far more about the person she claimed to represent than Louis would ever have imagined. As yet, he hadn’t been able to work out where all this was going.

"I don't think it's going down like that," Abbie said when Louis failed to fill the silence.

"No?"

"No. I do believe you intend to break your word and bring someone to the meeting, but I can't imagine that someone would shoot Alice dead, no matter what happened. Not with that someone being Alex, her daughter."

Louis said nothing. His expression made it clear Abbie had correctly read the situation.

"I believe you asked for this meeting not to discuss your brother but to announce your relationship. I believe you'll also try to convince Alice you didn't kill Aurora, and Alex will back you up. And I’ve one more key belief."

Louis leaned forward. Folding his hands together and using them to prop up his chin.

He said, "And what's that?"

"When it comes to Aurora's murder," said Abbie. "I believe you're innocent."

Fourteen

Louis released a long breath and leaned back into the headboard as though he was blowing himself over. For a little while, he stared at Abbie. Then he asked the critical question.

"Can I get dressed yet?"

Abbie gave the room a brief scan. She saw jeans and socks in a pile by the bed. A shirt near the en suite door. There was no sign of any underwear.

"Where are your boxers?"

"Wasn't wearing any," said Louis.

"Did the zip of your jeans not... you know what, never mind."

"It didn't," said Louis. "I'd still like to put some on now and to know why you believe I'm not responsible for what happened to Aurora."

Abbie mulled over the request. She didn't believe Louis was a danger but had to act as though he was. That was the safe play, and she was always looking at the safe play. So far, it had kept her alive.

"Where are your boxers?"

Leaning over, Louis tapped the wooden top of his bedside table. "Top drawer."

"And your gun?"

Louis hesitated, then smiled. Tapped the bedside table again. "Bottom drawer."

"How many more weapons in the room?"

A little more thinking time, then he showed two fingers. Gave details before Abbie could prompt him.

"Shotgun under the bed, hunting knife in the en-suite’s cistern."

"Quite the arsenal," said Abbie. "At least you'll be prepared if the monster in your closet ever gets brave enough to venture out at night."

"Maybe," Louis chuckled. "Didn't help when you came bursting in, did they?"

"No, but you were preoccupied."

Abbie rose from the armchair. There was a chance Louis was lying, but she was inclined to believe he had told her everything. He'd confessed to three weapons, after all, and he only had two hands. More weapons would not equal more protection.

"Stay on the bed," she said. "Don't move."

If he was lying, it would be about the location of his closest gun. Good lies stuck close to the truth. Louis might have kept his handgun in the top drawer of his bedside table. Had Abbie believed it was in the bottom drawer and let him collect his own underwear, he could have grabbed it and started shooting.

Abbie remained particularly vigilant as she reached the opposite side of the bed to where Alex and the duvet had fallen. If Louis wanted