Something down the hall thumped and Maeve threw herself to the floor. She lay down with an ant’s-eye view of the room, afraid to move, and spotted a square white box leaning against the wall beneath the bed with a long cord that was plugged into the electrical outlet. Maeve didn’t have Ellie’s skinny arms, but she could reach the cord and used it to pull the box toward her. The plastic was warm to the touch, and she turned it over in her hands, trying to figure out what it was. It had no markings or product name but looked sort of like a large Wi-Fi router. Had there been one in her room? Then she remembered the signal jammer.
“Yes!”
If she had time to explain before they attacked, this could be the proof she needed to make the pack turn from her to Ellie. But could she take that risk? Ellie might return to her room at any time. With her anxiety on the rise, Maeve reached for her cards. Only one remained, the most recent from her collection: Be the shark, not the minnow.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
She left the jammer plugged in and tiptoed to the door to press her ear against the wood, listening for any sound. Hearing nothing, she opened the door inch by inch.
She peeked into the hall.
Empty.
She left the room, not bothering to close the door.
They probably were in the study, debating what to do next. She would approach them with hands raised, ask for permission to explain, then tell them what she had found in Ellie’s room.
From the top of the main staircase, she could see down into reception. When she listened, she heard voices coming from the study. They were all so predictable.
Two hands shoved her from behind.
The world somersaulted as she tumbled down the stairs. The fall seemed eternal until she stopped, eyes on the undulating ceiling. Her arm hurt, and her neck, and she couldn’t stand. One by one their faces appeared above her, Ellie, dusting off her hands, the last.
Maeve tried to say, “No, it’s her!” but garbled “Noooser” as Oliver grabbed her under her arms and dragged her across the floor. She clawed at his hand and arm but couldn’t get a hold of him. They passed the armchairs by the fireplace, and somewhere near a door opened. A cool gust of air stroked her face. Oliver released her, but she remained too terrified and in too much pain to move. He pushed her into the cellar. She managed to grab the railing and stopped herself from tumbling down the wooden stairs, but before she could get to her feet, the door closed, shutting out the light.
6
Lorna
Light strands of dried blood traced the lines between Lorna’s shaking fingers, her skin cracked from the cold. She pulled down on her sleeves, the comedown from the rush of adrenaline plus the lack of food and caffeine giving her the shakes, making her act nervous. The morning had been spent in a rush, each event blurring in her mind like someone had pressed fast-forward, then rewind, then fast-forward, unable to land on the right spot. Her body a crumbling VHS tape, her image blurred and distorted. One more rewind and she would break. They were all being rewound, turned back into past selves. While she found her confidence slipping, Oliver bounced on his feet, a shadow of the ball of energy he used to be. Ellie, the wide-eyed princess, fretted.
“Was she hurt? I didn’t mean to push her so hard.” Ellie looked up and down the stairs as if by standing there long enough she, too, could rewind recent events.
Oliver stuffed the cellar key in his pocket, then flung his arm around her shoulders. “She’s fine, love.”
“So that’s it then, isn’t it?” Ellie asked. “We’ve got her. We can leave. Get the police.”
“Absolutely. Except they’re probably going to need proof. Which is why we need to soften her up a bit before the interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” Lorna asked.
“Well, there’s two things we need, isn’t there? One, the keys to get out of this house. And two, her confession. Who knows if she’s left behind enough evidence to prove she killed Hollis and MacLeod? And there certainly isn’t any that she killed Callum. Her confession will make the case airtight. I say we leave her there five, maybe ten minutes. Then we yank her out. Tie her up in, maybe, the kitchen? Plenty of tools there to scare the truth out of her.”
“What do you even know about interrogation?” Lorna asked.
He hung on Ellie like a drunk at a club. “It’s only Maeve. It can’t be that hard. What is it? You’ve got your weird thinking bitch face on.”
Lorna tried to relax her face. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
She turned on her heel.
“Where are you going?” Oliver asked. In Lorna’s mind, she saw the younger version of him calling to her. The full head of hair, the cocksure grin. “Oi! I asked you a question.”
“To get some food.” But when she looked, it was the older Oliver who stood there.
“Right. Good time for lunch, is it?”
“I haven’t eaten all day. I’m starving. And we’ve been running around this house like a bunch of wild dogs looking for Maeve. So yeah, it’s a good time for lunch.”
“I can certainly see your point. Nothing like finding two dead blokes to work up an appetite. Might as well make it a picnic, why don’t we? Relax away the afternoon. Great idea, don’t you think, Ellie? Let’s while away the hours in a house of murder. I don’t need out of this place. I don’t need to get back to my life.”
“Because it’s such a stellar life to get back to, right?”
Lightning flashed and a roll of thunder echoed. The sky darkened.
“I don’t want to stay here any more than you do, but who knows when we’re going to get out of here, with or without Maeve’s confession. I would like to have some energy for whatever else we have to today. So can we not do this on an empty stomach, please? That’s all I’m asking.”
Oliver blinked once, twice, then shrugged. “Well, since you said please. Five minutes. Nothing you need to cook. And bring something back for me and Ellie.”
He returned his arm to Ellie’s shoulder and herded her into the study. Lorna watched them go, her shoulders sagging in relief when the door closed behind them. Her hands trembled worse than ever while her mind tore itself between different images. Hollis’s body. The dog barking. Maeve in the cellar. She pressed her hands against the sides of her head, trying to put it all back together, slow the tape. For the first time, she doubted her ability to handle herself. Deep breaths slowed her thoughts and her pulse. After a final, silent count to ten, Lorna smoothed her hair and returned the armor that had protected her for so many years. She stepped over MacLeod’s body and made her way to the kitchen.
After grabbing a mishmash of snacks, Lorna joined her companions in the study. Oliver and Ellie, already drinking at the bar, had also taken the time to settle their nerves. Oliver’s excess of energy waned and Ellie no longer resembled a deer in flight. Lorna passed out the snacks while Oliver poured her a glass from a bottle of Dalmore and added a splash of soda. Lorna didn’t drink whisky, but asking for something else seemed too much effort. She watched the gold ribbon around the neck of the bottle as Oliver refilled their glasses. Drinking someone else’s liquor too early in the day and eating crap food while none of them knew what to say—time really had rewound itself.