‘You killed Denni,’ she said simply.
‘I didn’t,’ wailed Madison. ‘She told me she saw him! She saw the Hungry Man! She killed herself because of the ritual!’
‘And you invented the ritual.’
‘I didn’t! Kundela told me! He told me about the ritual!’
The girl really should have chosen a better lie.
Eliza pushed on the ute again, harder. The branch creaked. ‘You know, Bree and Denni were closer than you realised. Everything you told Denni, Denni told Bree.’
‘Yes, Denni was convinced she met the Hungry Man, one night in the bush, and barely escaped with her life. You convinced Denni that the Hungry Man would never stop hunting her, that killing herself was the only way to escape. If you see the Hungry Man’s face, he’ll never allow you to escape.
‘Bree told me she was going to be your second victim – that you’d arranged for her to kill herself, too. I didn’t want her getting cold feet once they found Georgia’s body – she would realise what I’d done – so I spoke to her and simply brought forward the day . . .’ She sighed. ‘If only Georgia hadn’t been the one you gave the phone to, I might not have had to . . . but Bree’s death needed to work right. She told me all about your plan . . . you’d kept her intentions secret from the other girls: she would die on the Hanging Tree on the third day of the disappearances, like some anti-Christ, for all to see her pain and to cement the mythology you were creating . . . to bring you even more followers.
‘I arrived at the Hanging Tree just in time to watch her do it, you know.’ She scowled, waving a hand beside her ear, swatting away the discomfort that memory brought. ‘Once she died, I had to climb up after her. I dragged her body higher, using the rope to hide her in a crook of the tree, up high where no one would see. It wasn’t time, yet, for everyone to see her: I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by taking it further than you had planned, especially if the police realised she’d been using my key to hide in the school.’
Madison’s face was a sheen of sweat, stark with the horror of understanding what Eliza was truly capable of.
‘She’d already written a message on the wall at the school, so I wrote some more to throw them off further. A few days later, the day they released me from custody, I went home to get Denni’s Hungry Man warding dolls – the statues you’d made her carve – and I took one to your house, another to Bree’s body. And then I texted you, pretending that Bree had taken the phone instead of Georgia. Letting you know the deed had been done.’
Silence. Madison quaked, weeping, and looked off over Eliza’s head and into the distance in vain hope of rescue. Her eyes widened briefly, and then she brought them back down to meet Eliza’s. She could hardly believe it: there was new fire in the girl’s eyes. She straightened, brushing dirt off her school dress.
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ said Madison. ‘You hear me? Denni killed herself, you stupid bitch. Denni was messed up: she was always going to kill herself. She wanted to kill herself the moment she got to Limestone Creek. You should be thanking me for keeping her alive as long as I did. She finally decided she couldn’t do it anymore and I helped her find peace. I helped her find purpose.’
Eliza dug her fingernails into the stock of the rifle. Madison lifted her chin in defiance. ‘My online presence is the greatest tool anyone from this nowhere town is ever gonna have: the amount of good I can do is more than you could even understand. Denni was already dead, you just refused to accept it. But you . . . you killed Georgia. In cold blood. You’re the real murderer.’
Eliza stood close now, resting her foot on the tailgate of the Landcruiser.
‘And Jasmine and Cierra? Did you kill them too?’ said Madison.
‘Don’t act dumb. You’re in contact with them, somehow. And now you’re going to tell me where they are, or I’m going to kill you.’
‘Go to hell, Miss Ellis.’ She put her head back and screamed. ‘Just shoot her already!’
What?
Eliza spun.
There, in the middle of the track, stood Con, Gabriella and Murphy.
Con’s pistol was aimed at her.
Eliza swung the rifle up and shot at them. It went wide.
The trio split into three directions.
Eliza turned and pushed the Landcruiser with all her strength, a savage grimace on her face as she caught Madison’s eyes.
The branch gave way and Madison screamed as the vehicle rolled towards the cliff.
CHAPTER 52
MURPHY
Con had huddled behind a snow gum, ready to return Eliza’s gunfire.
Gabriella hid behind another: she didn’t even have a weapon.
Eliza ran towards a ridge where the gums grew thicker, carrying the rifle across her chest, her white dress billowing.
Murphy sprinted towards the girl in the Landcruiser, slowly rolling towards the cliff. He reached it less than ten metres from the edge, slapping his hands on the tailgate. He heaved, digging his heels into the rocky ground, but it was no good. The Landcruiser pulled him forward, boots slipping.
He yelled, forearms bulging, shoulders burning.
Con appeared beside him, adding his strength to Murphy’s. The Landcruiser slowed but didn’t stop, the sound of their sliding feet mixing with crunching tyres and Madison’s screams.
Behind them: gunfire. Con must have given Gabriella his Glock.
‘Madison, is the door locked?’ shouted Con.
‘Yes!’ screamed Madison.
‘We’ve got to chock the tyres!’ shouted Murphy. There was no way to fight the momentum of the Landcruiser.
‘With what? No time!’ shouted Con. ‘Madison, you need to break your thumb and pull your hand out of the cuff!’
‘It’s too tight!’ screamed Madison. ‘Oh, Jesus, help me! Help me!’
Con was red from the strain, patting at his pocket with one hand while he pulled with the other. ‘Where are my handcuff keys!’
And Murphy remembered. Con didn’t have keys to the handcuffs because Murphy had them. He’d used them that morning to release Butch from Eliza’s bed.
The cliff was approaching. Beyond it, the fog and the mountains, swollen clouds and a perfect pastel blue sky.
They had maybe five metres.
Sara.
He remembered the dream. It had been warning of this the whole time . . . This was the moment of his death.
No time to think, then. Bite the bullet and go for it.
‘Hold it steady, mate,’ Murphy said. He pulled himself up onto the tray of the vehicle.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Con. The Landcruiser lurched forward without Murphy’s strength.
Time slowed down.
He pulled the little key out of his pocket. He pushed it into the cuff attached to Madison’s wrist.
Madison clung to him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She was no longer the larger-than-life mastermind: just a terrified teenage girl.
Murphy turned the key in the cuffs and they sprang open. He cradled her like a baby.
You’re out of time.
The Landcruiser tilted, front wheels over the edge. Con’s shout was drowned out by the roar of metal scraping the cliff edge.