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

Louis didn't speak. He couldn't speak. His eyes dropped again; Alex was staring at him, too. Her hand had gone stiff in his lap.

"What did you do, Louis?" said Alice. "With whom did you make the deal?"

"I realised my mistake," said Louis, dodging the question. "In the aftermath of Niall's death, I hated myself for what had happened. I realised I'd been a fool. Then I met Alex, and everything was thrown into sharper relief. I got in touch—"

"Louis."

"—I said it couldn't happen. I said—"

"Louis, who did you talk to?"

Louis looked at Alex. She pulled her hand from his.

"Answer my mother's question," she said. After that, there was no way Louis was going to keep quiet. He returned to Alice.

"Pedro Vasquez," said Louis.

Alice stared at Louis for a long time. Then she took the gin off the table, poured herself another measure, and looked at Abbie.

"You told me my life was in danger. You believed I could be dead by tomorrow’s end, but you didn't know the who, how, or why.”

Replacing the gin on the table, she flicked a hand in Louis’ direction.

"Well, now we know."

Twenty-One

Alice glanced around the table, grabbed an empty bottle.

"Excellent, no tonic. Mind if I...?" She pointed out the door. Louis stared.

"Shouldn't we—?”

"Excellent." She got up and left the room.

Tony rose. Louis put his head into his hands, possibly to escape Alex's furious, hurt eyes. Their profession of love suddenly felt a long time ago.

"Hang on," Abbie said, raising a hand to Tony. "I'll go."

She went without checking if Tony had heeded her request. He almost certainly would, but it didn't really matter. As long as Alex and Louis stayed where they were, Abbie was content.

Alice was in the kitchen, searching for tonic. Slipping through the door, Abbie closed it behind her. There was no sound of Tony following. The two women were alone.

"I'll be back in a minute," Alice said, finding the tonic and putting it beside her glass. "No need to chase me down."

"I'm not looking to chase anyone anywhere," said Abbie. "Just want a word about Jacob."

"What about him?"

"I think he's in danger."

Alice's back was to Abbie, but Abbie still sensed the older woman rolling her eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Do you know that Ollie was with Aurora the night she was murdered?"

Alice turned to Abbie, then back to her drink. Removing the cap from the bottle, she poured tonic into her gin.

"What's your point?"

This was intentionally vague. Alice had realised the moment she turned around that meeting Abbie's eye would be a mistake. She had returned to her gin, but it was too late. In the older woman's eyes, Abbie had seen the truth: Alice hadn't known who Aurora was with that night because Aurora never confided in Alice. Why would she? Nine years was a long time, especially when that nine years took Aurora from six to fifteen. It must have felt to Alice as though her daughter was gone, replaced by a stranger. As for Aurora, here came a woman she knew mostly from prison visits and barely remembered as a mother. It could not have been an easy relationship for either party.

Dodging this emotional minefield, Abbie took the question at face value.

"Ollie was supposed to walk Aurora home. He didn't. You might know why; I don't, but Jacob speculates they argued. Their relationship was strained. After years of being inseparable, Ollie could feel Aurora drifting away, and he didn't know why. They met that night to talk, and Jacob thinks Aurora will have told Ollie the truth as to why they weren't spending so much time together. I'm guessing Tony told you we met Angel and Ollie today, so you know I've seen the boy's temper. Having learned the truth, I can imagine they argued."

Having topped up her glass, Alice put the tonic away. She turned to Abbie, pointed a long finger.

"You want to be careful; it sounds as though you might be accusing my grandson of murdering my daughter."

"Not at all," said Abbie. "Ollie's impulsive. I believe he met Aurora with good intentions, but his anger spilt over. He wouldn't have been carrying a knife, so he can't have slit Aurora's throat, and people who act on emotion don’t clean up crime scenes like professionals. No, I think Ollie argued with Aurora, then ditched her when he was supposed to be walking her home."

"And he ditched her," said Alice, "be00cause he learned the truth of why they’d been spending time apart? Why Aurora had been distant."

"Yes," said Abbie. She hated the hurt in Alice's eyes. The hurt of a mother who couldn't stand the thought that she had known so little about her daughter's life.

"And what was that truth?" Alice had to force herself to say it.

"That Aurora had a boyfriend."

Alice took her glass from the counter. Didn't drink. Her jaw tight; she couldn’t bring herself to ask another question.

"They only told two people," said Abbie, trying to help Alice feel better about her lack of knowledge. "The boyfriend told his dad. Aurora told Alex. That's what brought them together."

"Brought who togeth—" Alice stopped, looked towards the kitchen door. "This was about Jacob. Are you telling me Jacob and my daughter were in a relationship?"

Abbie hesitated. It was clear from her expression that this was not a truth Alice wanted to accept. Abbie wouldn't have told her if she didn't think it was relevant to the danger she and Jacob faced.

"They were," she said.

"According to who? To Jacob?"

"Like I said, Alex knew as well; you can check with her."

"Fine." Alice strode across the room. Abbie blocked the door.

"In a minute."

"No, get out of my way."

"You know what Ollie's like. I've only met him once, and I can see he's on the verge of collapse. He's grieving, and that got me thinking about Louis. How he knew that he was to blame for his brother's death, but his grief made him point the finger at someone else. At you."

Alice stepped back, observed