Lyrebird Hill (50 page)

‘I love you, Wolf. Stay alive for me, will you?’

As I kissed him on the mouth, I prayed it wouldn’t be for the last time. Then, getting to my feet, I stumbled from the cool shadows of the cave and into the blinding afternoon light, swiping away my tears.

The Beast was out there, stalking me. The game was on, for real this time. And the prize was something I simply could not bear to lose.

The sun was sinking fast. The western horizon had caught alight, fire-pink behind the blackened outline of the trees.

I raced downhill, veering through the thick scrub towards the river, my runners thudding the ground in time to my pulse. Pete’s cottage was on the opposite bank, hidden up among the trees, twenty minutes’ walk. I might make it in ten. I had read that gunshot wounds were best treated within an hour, but out here that time frame was impossible. Emergency services would respond immediately to my call, but there was the drive from town, then the search for our cave . . . and the risk of Rob finding us first; meanwhile Pete’s life was bleeding away.

Ahead was the track that led down to the farmhouse, a narrow avenue cutting through the bush. As I crossed it, I glanced along its length, but there was no sign of Rob. Soon the incline became steep, and as I slowed to navigate the rocky ground, I heard a bellow from the direction of the house. Rob would be searching the grounds, perhaps already scouting the undergrowth that bordered the garden. I imagined him circling like a cat, moving in wider and wider loops until he found a footprint or a scrap of my torn T-shirt or a red droplet of Pete’s blood clinging to a leaf—

I forced myself to move. My body trembled so hard my footing was unsure. My pulse hammered the back of my neck, and a painful sickening fear clouded my senses, dulling me when I most needed to be sharp.

I heard Rob yell again. There was a wildness to his voice, and I imagined his face raw with anger, his eyes dark and determined. I skirted north-west, anchoring my bearings on the natural bridge of stepping stones that would take me across the river to the cottage.

I broke through the cover of trees onto the riverbank, and stood panting in the shadows. I checked the bank in both directions, then silently picked my way down the steep verge to the water. The current rushed past here, deep green, dark with sunken logs and frothing around the partly submerged stones that formed the bridge across.

As I leaped onto the first rock I heard the crash of branches behind me. I spun a look over my shoulder; the trees were motionless, the bushes benign in the twilight – but somewhere beyond, Rob was on my trail and fast closing ground.

Within minutes I had traversed the stepping stones and bounded onto the far bank. From here the track that wound up to Pete’s cottage was well trodden, but I didn’t dare expose myself by running along it. Pushing through the trees was slower, but I couldn’t chance being seen. My senses had taken flight; adrenaline coursed through me, making every sound a threat. Finches called shrilly in the bushes, the song of the rapids had turned deep and full of menace. My panicked breath rasped in my throat; dots jumped across my eyes, and the pressure in the back of my skull pounded like a drumbeat.

I stumbled up the steps to Pete’s front door and burst inside. Going straight to the phone, I dialled triple-0 three times before I got it right, then wasted a full minute holding my breath for an in-control voice to answer and reassure me that emergency services and police were on their way.

Then I realised the line was dead.

I wasted more time rattling the cord, checking the connection. Then I remembered that Rob had grown up on the next property over, and would have known about the cottage. In typical fashion he had covered all bases and effectively cut me off from any link to the outside world.

Slumping against the wall, I closed my eyes and dragged in breath after breath, trying to find my calm centre so I could think. Pete’s keys were in my pocket, but it was likely
Rob had immobilised the Holden, just as he’d done with Esther’s Morris.

As I stood trembling in the darkened room, breathing in the scent of books and dogs and Pete’s comforting presence, the tension in my head momentarily eased. A tiny window opened, and the breeze of a thought blew in. I looked at the cupboard under the sink. Went over and opened it.

There on the top shelf sat a small bright yellow device: the personal beacon Pete had told me about the morning after Esther’s death.

If only she’d carried the PLB, she could have signalled for help.

I grabbed the beacon, then found a first aid kit. Filling a bottle with water, I stowed the lot in a haversack, which I slung over my shoulder.

The track that led back to the river looked clear, but again I ducked into the trees and ran silently downhill, my bag banging against my side. I allowed myself a moment of relief; I was going to make it, I was nearly home free. But as I rushed towards the shoreline, I heard footfall behind me. Rob shouted my name.

Panic took hold and I veered directly down the bank, crashing onto the pebbly beach, stumbling into the shallows as I tried to create distance between us. Of course he would have known I’d try to use Pete’s landline. Now he was close, but I couldn’t risk hiding, couldn’t risk getting cut off from the stepping stones that bridged the river. My feet and jeans were wet and my runners slid on the smooth rock, but within moments I reached the opposite embankment.

Rob’s voice rang sharp and loud behind me and I chanced a look over my shoulder. He was closer than I’d hoped, already bounding across the rock islands that glistened wet with my footprints. I saw his shoe skate on the slippery surface, then as he righted himself, the dying light caught a metallic flash in his hand. He stopped mid-river and raised his arm, took swift aim.

I turned and stumbled up the bank, climbing onto the granite shelf that jutted above the rapids, half-hoping to find the overhang I had taken shelter in the night Bardo had found me.

The crack of gunfire made me hit the ground. I lay trembling on the damp rock, gasping the scent of rotting vegetation that wafted from the crevices that carved between the stones, fear seizing control of my limbs. This was real. Rob meant me harm. Big gentle Rob with the warm smile was gone, his mask removed; in his place, the killer I had been trying to forget for most of my life.

Another shot blasted out, and shards of stone exploded nearby. Rob had crossed the river and was running along the shore towards me. His face was pale, but his eyes were dark hollows in the dimness, and his chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing.

I scrambled backwards and somehow got to my feet, my wet shoes leaving water trails on the granite. I kept my gaze fixed on Rob, but saw, on my periphery, a cluster of boulders nearby. Dark shadows gathered between them, gaps that might provide me shelter. But I was too slow, my reflexes dulled by panic; Rob swiftly climbed onto the shelf and strode towards me.

‘Hey, babe.’ His shirt was smeared in blood, torn along one sleeve. His gaze was fierce in the gloom, and as he levelled his weapon at my head, his hands shook. ‘I guess it’s goodbye, after all.’

‘So much for all your letting-go crap,’ I said, my voice harsh with nerves. ‘You might have gotten away with it. But you couldn’t forget her. That’s the real reason you were with me, wasn’t it?’

Rob hesitated. The handgun wavered. His eyes narrowed and he appeared to consider my words. ‘You’re so like her,’ he said after a while, and his voice softened. ‘You never quite understood how much you resembled her.’

‘And now you’re going to kill her all over again.’

He shook his head, parting his lips, baring his teeth in a grim smile. ‘If it means saving the career I’ve worked so hard to build, then yes. I’ll hate myself for all eternity, but that’s a price I’m willing to pay.’

I shuffled backwards, my whole body quaking, my breath coming in gasps.

Rob watched me, and I saw the excitement in his face, the way his gaze sharpened to absorb my distress. As I retreated, a distance grew between us, but then, slowly, he began to walk towards me. I continued to take small steps, keeping the cluster of boulders on the edge of my vision, noting how the dusk now enveloped them in shadows. I wanted to run, but fear made me stumble and I only managed a few steps before I tripped and fell.

Rob moved suddenly, readjusting his aim, but as he shifted his balance his brogue skated across the wet trail of footprints I’d left behind. His foot went from under him and drove sharply downwards into a gap in the rock. He let out a yell and tried to pull free, but his foot appeared to be jammed fast. There was an awkward angle to his leg, and he was hunched over himself, the handgun gripped loosely, almost carelessly now, as he focused on his trapped foot.

He let out an animal noise of frustration, then swore loudly. ‘Ruby, don’t just stand there like a frigging post. Get over here and help me.’

I climbed to my feet. ‘I don’t think so.’

Rob’s lips were white, and his face grey as the stone we stood on. Judging by his twisted grimace, he was in horrible pain.

‘You cold-hearted bitch, help me.’

I shook my head, backing away. ‘I’ll let rescue services know you’re here, but I’m not coming near you. Not now, not ever.’

My stomach knotted, but I forced myself to turn and walk towards the edge of the stone plateau; towards the safe shadows of the tall rock formations.

‘Ruby, get back here.’

I looked back. Rob swung the gun and aimed it at my head, gripping it with both hands. Sweat glistened on his forehead. I knew the pain in his ankle must be inching up to near intolerable. The hollowness in his eyes had grown darker, his skin was grey.

‘Stay where you are,’ he said, his voice cracked and hoarse. ‘I’ll finish you, Ruby. I’ll shut you up for good.’

‘Your ankle’s swelling fast. It’s jammed tight in that crevice. You’re already in a lot of pain. In twenty minutes you’ll feel as if your leg is being crushed in a vice. Even if you were able to wrench it free, there’s no way you’d make it across this terrain with an injury like that. Especially now it’s getting dark. I’m your only hope of survival. If I die, you die, too.’

‘But if I let you walk away, you’ll tell them about Jamie.’

‘Yes.’

He raised the gun. ‘I’ll take my chance.’

Time slowed. I thought of Pete in the darkness of the lyrebird cave. His pulse slowing, his blood seeping through the compress. How long did he have? Maybe he was already slipping away.

I looked at Rob, the man who had once held over me a magnetic power I’d been unable to resist. All I felt for him now was pity. He had built a smokescreen around himself – respected psychologist, bestselling author, advocate for emotional freedom – but his life was based on a lie. And a life based on lies, as I’d learned the hard way, was no life at all.

‘I’m going to signal for help,’ I told him. ‘Try to keep still until the medics get here.’

‘Ruby, don’t you dare leave me here!’

I walked across the flat rocks, shakily retracing the steps I’d taken eighteen years ago as a frightened twelve-year-old. My fear was ebbing, leaving in its wake a sense that time was speeding up, that the clock had recalibrated and had started ticking forward again.

A shot rang out.

I stumbled and fell. The granite was warm under my palms, hard under my knees. The world seemed to vibrate. I waited for the pain, for the blaze of understanding to lift me upwards and carry me into the wide dark sky . . . but it never came.

Slowly, I got to my feet.

I stood for a long time, breathless. Listening. Any moment now, his voice would shatter the stillness, his words ringing over the rushing hiss of the river. He would call.

Ruby, don’t leave me.

In my mind’s eye, wings sprouted from my shoulder blades and carried me up into the wide blue. Through the eyes of a bird, or an angel, I saw two small figures on the granite embankment below. One stood shakily, frozen in place, unable to look back; the other was slumped, his heavy frame listing to one side, his face – his beautiful, treacherous face – now forsaken to shadow. Beneath him a black pool was spreading, slowly darkening the stone, seeping into the crevices, finding its way down through the granite into the rushing water below.