The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,65

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‘What about Wanda Brooks? Don’t deny it – you told me you’d talked to her. You know where we can find her?’

‘No. We met her in public.’

He put the gun against my forehead. ‘You sure?’

‘I swear. She wouldn’t let us go to her place. She’s totally paranoid.’

‘Hmm.’ He seemed to believe me.

‘Who else you been talking to, huh?’ he asked. ‘I know you went to see Mona. And I also know you went to Columbia. What did they tell you?’

‘Nothing. They wouldn’t tell me anything.’ I didn’t want Krugman going there and murdering Professor Kyle and Brenda. ‘I showed them Eden’s photo but they said they couldn’t say anything because of confidentiality. Listen, I—’

‘Shut up! Talking, talking, always talking. Jesus Christ. You’re worse than Jack. Now get the fuck out of that car.’

He grabbed my arm and yanked me out, twisting me round so he was behind my back. He held on to my upper arm.

Behind me was the road that cut through the woods; ahead I could see nothing but trees. I felt like they were watching me, a solemn crowd, silent and still. Witnesses to an execution.

A path, muddy from the recent rainfall, led into the woods.

‘Let’s go,’ said Krugman, letting go of my arm and pushing me ahead of him.

I forced myself to walk, one foot in front of the other, my way illuminated by the beam from Krugman’s torch. As we entered the woods, the trees closing around us, welcoming us in, I heard a car drive by on the road. Krugman paused and glanced over his shoulder. I thought about calling out but there was no point – they would never have heard me – and by the time I’d dismissed the idea, the road was quiet again. The car gone. I considered running, wondering if I could lose myself in the trees. That might be my only chance. But I would be in the pitch-darkness, hands cuffed, pursued by a man with a flashlight and a gun. I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere.

‘Why did you kill Jack?’ I asked. ‘Were you worried he was going to own up to knowing Eden?’

I thought he might deny it, but he said, ‘You know, Jack begged for his life. Like a little kid begging not to be beaten by his dad. Is that what you’re going to do?’

‘Would it do any good?’

He laughed.

‘Ruth will want to know what’s happened to me,’ I said. ‘She’ll know who was responsible. She’ll go to the police. The real police.’

He shoved me forward so I stumbled and almost fell. ‘I am the real police.’

We carried on walking, deeper into the woods. It was almost dry here, the canopy of trees providing protection from the rain, but the air still burned with the scent of the summer storm. Something landed on my face – a bug, some kind of fly – and I tried to shake it away, realising my cheeks were wet. I had been crying without knowing it. Crying for Ruth. Perhaps, though I was loath to admit it, for myself.

A little way into the woods, close to a ditch that ran alongside the path, Krugman said, ‘Stop.’

A breath shuddered through me and I clenched my teeth. Keep your dignity. Don’t beg.

‘Face the ditch,’ he said. ‘And stay still.’

I had my back to him. I closed my eyes, grateful he hadn’t instructed me to get on my knees.

‘You religious?’ he said. ‘Got anything you want to say?’

I was finding it hard to hold back the tears now. I was thinking about my family, back in England. My mum and dad. How they would never know what had happened to me. How this would hang over them for the rest of their lives, a terrible mystery.

‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t hide my body. My mum . . .’ I was too choked to say any more.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Can’t do—’

And somewhere nearby, a twig snapped.

‘What the fuck?’ said Krugman.

I turned. He turned too, sweeping the beam of the torch through the trees.

‘Who’s there?’ he yelled.

I saw it at the same time as him. A figure, stepping out from the foliage, like a piece of night breaking off, shadow emerging from shadow.

Krugman aimed, but the shadow moved fast, evading the beam of light. Another twig snapped and the figure jolted to a halt.

Two guns went off at the same time.

Chapter 30

Krugman lay still, just a few feet away from me. I hurried over to see if he was still breathing – he was