Escaping Life (37 page)

She heard him
alright, but she just couldn’t quite believe it.  Was her
f
ather really telling her that he’d
killed their
m
other?  That his actions
banished her sister?  Now here she was, lying underneath him, feeling not so
far away from being the next victim.  She dared to look at him, half expecting
and wishing for him to laugh, help her up and say it was all a big joke, and
for Graham to jump out of the cupboard, video camera in hand.  Even that, as
sick as it would be, would be better than this.

“I did lose
everything.”  Her words almost a whisper, she didn’t know whether from fear,
her screaming or a mixture of both.  “I lost everything when you killed her!” 
He shook his head laughing; the most horribly patronising laughter.

“You had
Graham, and a life.  I thought you’d be alright.  I thought it was over.  Then
she calls me, out of the blue.  Tells me to meet her at the bus station.  Just
like her
m
other, obsessed with the
truth.  She’s decided that she’ll tell you.  Says she
is
coming back to tell you everything. 
She even knew where you lived!  Then you went and got that letter in the
paper.  Thought everything would be alright when she killed herself.  Thought
that cop had done me a favour when he told you the case was
closed
.  Then he goes calling you
up constantly. I knew something was up.  You wouldn’t just let it lie would you?” 
There was a moment of silence.  Her hands were throbbing and her shoulder felt as
if it had been dislocated.  Her legs were still lying amongst the sharp shards
of ceramic blades of the broken mugs and she could feel lines of blood
trickling down her legs.

“You did it! 
You did it!  Not them!  You killed them!”  Her breathing was frantic and
patchy.  “Please, don’t kill me too!”

He shot back in
a flash of bewilderment.  “Kill you?  I could never want to kill you!”  She felt
her pulse rate slacken slightly from the worst white knuckle ride of her life. 
She breathed in the first full breath for the last few minutes.  “But you know
the truth now, Elizabeth.  What am I supposed to do?”

She saw her
chance.  A chance for negotiation.  
Keep him talking.
It was too early
for Graham, but maybe somebody would have to come to the house.  Maybe there
would be a delivery and she could scream her lungs out at the first ‘ding’ of
the doorbell.  Maybe Nancy would stop by, or Mr. Madden would stop by with some
milk as he had promised.  They would come straight round to the back and would
see them.  They would call the cops.  Maybe, just maybe, Jack was on his way. 
He had called so many times.  He must have realised; he must know. 
That’s
what has driven him to this,
she thought. 
I just have to hold on.

“You could let
me go, like Rebecca.  You didn’t kill her.”

“That’s not the
same thing, Elizabeth.”  His argument was as casual as if he were debating a
holiday in Spain or the Caribbean.  Just one of life’s trivialities.  “You and
Rebecca were not the same.”

“Why?  Why
could you let her go, and not me?”  He thought about his answer and then laid
it out very clearly as if discussing the local temperatures and cocktail menu.

“She had a
weakness.  You do not.  You are strong.”

“No I’m not! 
I’ll not say anything!  I’ll pretend this never happened!  I’ll just keep it to
myself!”  She knew that it was a lie and she hoped again that he couldn’t see
through her thin veil of truth.  He was laughing again; that same sharp and
blistering laugh.  If she hadn’t been so terrified, she
would
have smacked him in the
face.

“I don’t have a
weakness like she did?”  The question was written all over her face:  W
hat
weakness
?  He leaned in closer still.  She could smell his breath, just
like Rebecca had, that day in the kitchen.  She could smell sweat and
cigarettes because he hadn’t showered.  “You, Elizabeth.  You were her weakness
and I knew it straight away.  One word that you were in danger bought her
silence.”

So she had her
answer.  The letters from the paper came flooding back to her:  ‘I never
stopped missing you.  I’m so sorry that I had to go away.  It’s time to learn
the truth.  I had to get away.  I had to save you.  I was scared for you.  You
will find the answers.  You have to learn it for yourself to believe’.  It all
made sense now, as her own
f
ather loomed above her.  He
had used her.  He had used her to silence Rebecca.

“It’s because
of you I lost
Rebecca
!  It’s because of you I
lost my
m
other!”  Her words were not
brittle anymore, and she felt the life back in her body as it began its fight
to free itself. 

“They both
chose their fate, Elizabeth, just like you have chosen yours!”

“Bullshit! 
You’re a fucking liar!  You’re crazy!”  She felt the pressure on her wrists
again as he began to push her back down.  “Let me go!” she yelled.  “Let me
go!”  She was writhing underneath him and all of a sudden, as if from nowhere,
she was free.  She had a moment of freedom as he got up, and in a split second
she told herself to run. 
Get up!  Run! 
But the surprise had stunned
her.  Before she could regain her composure, he had grabbed her again.  He
grabbed a huge clump of her golden blonde hair and dragged her along the floor,
her face and hips bouncing over the step to the garden and smearing fresh blood
along the floor.  As he dragged her outside, the bump over the step pushed the
ceramic shrapnel further into her flesh, making her wince in pain.  She
snatched at the patio table as he pulled her past it.  Her hands found the
chairs too, pulling them over on top of her.  She dragged her nails along the
ground, collecting dirt and mud, and fragmented bits of nail snapped away until
blood flowed from the tips of her fingers and she couldn’t hold on any more. 
He dragged her through the wet sheets as they blew in the wind that rose up and
over the cliffs and as she clung to them, they pinged away from the washing
line.  She was helpless and he was dragging her towards the fence.  With one
push and a shove of his foot she saw the fence pass by above her and she knew
that she was on the other side.  With one hand on her arm and the other on her
throat, he hauled her to her feet.  She could see the bay below; there were
people in the streets.  She could see Nancy’s shop and she wished more than
anything to be sat on her little balcony eating sandwiches and watching the
tides as they rolled in and then out again.  Mr. Lyons was asleep in his car
park, enjoying the last days of summer and there were people on the beach making
sandcastles.  Somebody was flying a kite.  She screamed as loudly as she could,
but the only thing she heard in response was the echo of her own voice, carried
teasingly back over the sea cliffs and towards her and her
f
ather, his grip the only thing between
her and a twenty metre fall into the powerful waves and sharp-edged rocks
beneath her.

“Elizabeth!  Where
are you?  Are you OK?”  Jack knew that he sounded panicked.  He didn’t want to alarm
her, but what choice did he have?  He knew that Edward was still at her house.

“Jack!  What’s
wrong?  What’s the matter?”  He heard a beep on the phone. 
What was that? 
Did he tap the line?  He’s listening!

“Elizabeth, who
is there with you?  Is your father there?” He waited.  No reply.  “Elizabeth?” 
The phone was dead.  He called straight back.  Nothing.  He thrust the phone
into Gibb’s chest.  “Don’t stop trying!  We’re only ten minutes away!” 

As they drove
like crazy men on a rollercoaster ride down the winding streets that led down
into Haven, the Explorer nearly toppled a couple of times.  Jack gripped the
wheel harder and he felt the pull of his tightening shoulder.

“Steady, Boss!”
Gibb was shouting as he clung to the door handle as if it offered him some kind
of protection, sure at some point they would turn over into the nearest
hedge.   But there was no stopping him; he wasn’t going to slow down.  Elizabeth
was there.  Edward was there.  He had to be there too.

Elizabeth heard
the faint sound of crunching gravel coming from the front of the house.  It was
almost impossible to hear over the sound of the waves, but she was sure that
was what it was.  She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t.  He was holding her,
her head pushed back, hanging over the cliff, his left hand gripped tightly
around her neck.  She couldn’t just hear the waves crashing against the rocks
below her, she could see them too.  With all her might, she pushed the images
of her limp wet body draped over those rocks like a ragdoll tossed about by the
power of the water, to the back of her mind.  She wanted to fight him.  She
felt that same urge as in the kitchen, when he had been straddled across her
and when she had looked for every angle to push him away, but she couldn’t
fight now.  Instead, she gripped his arm as tightly as she could, but her hands
were limp and her wrists bruised.  One false move and she was doing the best
part of a base jump without the special suit or parachute.  He looked back at
the house, his right hand held up to his mouth.  He had heard the car too.  She
knew as well as he did that they couldn’t be seen past the sheets that had
managed to stay clipped to the washing line, even if whoever it was came around
the back of the house.  Edward looked back at Elizabeth, his finger pressed tightly
up against his lips. 

“Sssshhhh!” he
said, very quietly, although in truth, if he had spoken louder it would most
likely still have gone unheard.  They heard the voices at the front of the
house.

“Elizabeth!”  It
was faint, but she recognised the voice; it was Jack!  She could hear him
calling out her name as he hammered his fists against the front door.  No
response.  Jack took one knowing glance at Gibb, who braced himself alongside
him, shoulder to shoulder. 

“One, two, three!” 
They launched themselves at the front door and the weather-battered woodwork
was too soft to withstand their combined strength and the frames and hinges
caved in under their weight, sending them staggering into the hallway.  They
had already agreed their plan:  Jack upstairs and Gibb to scour through the
ground floor.  Jack raced up, two at a time, his heavy black shoes feeling as
light as a feather.

“Elizabeth! 
Elizabeth!”  No answer.  He ran past the window that looked over the bay, and
that would have given him an adequate view of the two figures stood on the edge
of the cliff.  Elizabeth saw him race past and she knew that he hadn’t seen
her.  He ransacked the bedrooms, yanking open the cupboards.  He kicked in the
one closed door.  The bathroom.  Nothing.  He stood, sweating, perspiration
pouring out of him through fear, or lust for the police chase.  He didn’t know
which.  The sweat was rolling down his face and down into the small of his back
as he rubbed his hand across his mouth in frustration.  He charged back down
the stairs, into the kitchen where Gibb was standing.  He immediately saw the
shattered mugs on the ground.  Then he saw the blood.  He could see that it led
out to the garden, and he hoped that it was Edward’s and not Elizabeth’s.  They
followed the trail outside and he quickly formulated scenarios in his head
where Elizabeth had fought Edward off and sent him flying, knocking over the chairs
and dragging sheets away from the line on the way out of the house.  Gibb spotted
the smearing of blood on the hanging sheets.  He looked at Jack, clicking his
fingers to get his attention.  Jack nodded; he had already seen it.

Elizabeth was
still rubbing her wrists as Jack and Gibb came into view.  They emerged from
behind the hanging sheets which were now flicking violently in the mounting
wind. 

“Don’t do it
Jackson!  Leave her alone!  Let her go!”  All of Jack’s police instincts were
on high alert.  His eyes scanned the whole area:  the ground, the loose rock
immediately behind them, and Edward’s tight grip on Elizabeth’s throat.  He was
searching for a solution, but couldn’t see one.  Edward turned to Elizabeth.

“It could have
been easy Elizabeth.  We could have left this in the past where it belonged.” 

“Jackson, look
at me!  You don’t want to do this!  She doesn’t need to die, let her go!”  He
and Gibb climbed over the post and rail fence, bringing them only metres away. 
Jack saw her green eyes, precious stones gripped in fear, her pupils pin tight
as the sun beamed down on her face. 
No room for failure.  She cannot die!

“I killed my
wife detective.  I thought it was over.  In the past.”  He spoke loudly, his
words only just audible over the wind that was whipping Elizabeth’s blonde hair
up.  “She brought it back.  She made us face it.  I told her that her precious Betty
would pay the price.  I warned her.”  Elizabeth could see Jack and Gibb closing
the gap between them.  Her
f
ather turned to look at
her.  “She played with your life, Elizabeth.  That’s how much she cared.  Don’t
feel bad for her.” 

“Jackson, come
on.  There’s no need to do this.  Elizabeth did no wrong.  Let her go.”  Jack’s
arms were outstretched, pleading with him like a slave before Caesar. 
“Jackson, don’t do it!”  Images raced through Jack’s mind:  images of his wife,
his son, of Kate, of watching Elizabeth tumble down the cliff face, impossible
to save. 
I can’t let her die!  I can’t let anybody else die!  I have to
save her!
 Elizabeth felt a momentary release in her
f
ather’s grip around her neck as Jack
came within feet of them.  She knew that for her
f
ather, there was only one way out.  He
was cornered.  She didn’t have any time left.