Call of Glengarron (21 page)

But the very fact that there were three of them was my one tiny ray of hope. If we were caught—
when
we were caught—I would appeal to Alistair Lennox and Angus Mac-Rae for help. I would tell them the whole story, implicating Lambert Nairn too. It would inevitably bring disrepute on Margo’s memory, but that couldn’t be avoided. Now it was a matter of fighting for my life.

They wouldn’t believe me, of course, but the very telling of the story would surely prevent Craig from making any further attempts to kill me.

But it would be too dangerous to let me go free. I had a vital piece of information. I could prove that he had been in London on the night of Margo’s death.

Or could I? Had that incriminating passport of his been destroyed by now? And of course Lambert Nairn would deny that he had ever been at Margo’s flat that evening. It would be his respected word against the hazy memory of a five-year-old child.

My thoughts were twisting like a whirlpool, rushing round and round, faster and faster....

Through the noise of my own mind, it was strange to hear the sharp clarity of Craig’s voice again,

“Uncle, you go back to Kinaird and phone Glengarron. There might be some news for us. And you could drop Angus off at his home—his wife will be worried about him by now.”

“She wouldna wish me home if I can help you, sir.”

“No no, Angus, you’ve done enough already. If it hadn’t been for you ...”

Yes, I thought, if it hadn’t been for MacRae’s interference, Jamie and I might be well on the road toward Inverness by now, getting nearer safety every minute.

“Why don’t you come with us, Craig?” Alistair Lennox asked. “There’s no point your hanging on here.”

But Craig insisted on staying. “I’ll take a look around while you’re gone. I might find some trace of them.”

At the realization that I would be left alone with Craig, a new wave of fear hit me. My decision was made in an instant. I would give myself up, right away this minute. I dared not risk being discovered by Craig when no one else was around.

I eased my coat from under Jamie, trying not to startle him. But even as I was struggling to my knees, I heard the jeep start up sharply and take off down the road. My cry for help was strangled in my throat. I sank back heavily onto the bracken, weak with despair.

Craig began walking away from us, his shoes noisy on the loose gritty tarmac. He was going to start searching along the opposite road. Very faintly I could hear him crashing through the dead bracken. Then he called out, “Lucy, Lucy. Where are you?”

My hurried movements a moment before had already half-woken Jamie, and now he stirred.

“That’s my daddy.”

Luckily his voice was only a sleepy murmur. Craig was some way off, and making too much noise to hear his son.

I put my mouth close to Jamie’s ear. “Ssh, darling, Keep absolutely quiet. Go back to sleep.”

“But, Lucy ...”

“No, dear, don’t talk now. Just keep quiet,
please.”

It was then I felt the first drops of rain, silk-soft but very penetrating. I covered Jamie’s head as best I could with my arm.

Apparently it didn’t take Craig long to satisfy himself there was nothing of interest on that side of the road. I heard him tramping back toward us, and I got an occasional glimpse of his flashlight as he played the beam around. I guessed he was searching for footprints on the soft grass verge.

He tried calling out again. “Lucy. Jamie. Where the devil are you?”

I felt Jamie’s head move under my arm. Even though half-asleep, he responded automatically to his father’s call.

“Hello, Daddy “

That stopped Craig. I heard his startled grunt, and then a beam of light swept over the bracken above our little dell.

“Jamie, where are you?”

Now, too late, Jamie remembered my instructions to keep quiet. I guess some remnant of the tracking game lingered in his confused mind. He gasped faintly, guiltily, and then was quite silent.

It was only a matter of time. I could scarcely hope for more than a single minute, I reckoned. But those sixty seconds might be long enough to bring Alistair Lennox back.

Craig called again: “Come on out, Lucy. I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but for God’s sake come out and explain.”

He wasn’t going to trap me like that.

The peaty ground under the bracken was scattered with loose chunks of flinty rock. I could feel them digging into me. An old trick jumped into my mind. Could I use it to divert Craig’s attention for a few precious seconds more?

He was already coming through the bracken toward us when my hand closed over a suitable stone, a lump the size of an egg. I jerked my arm up as forcefully as I could, and the rock fell a dozen yards away. It fell with a satisfactory thud.

Craig stopped. He called to us again, waited, and then plunged on quickly in the new direction, cursing as he plowed through the tangled mass of dead bracken.

I heard a sudden breathless exclamation, and then a fearful crashing noise. Craig cried out piercingly, twice. There was a slither of stones, a tearing sound, and then silence— eerie, complete silence.

Was this another trap? Was he hoping to flush me out by faking an accident?

Craig McKinross was a master at faking accidents.

But could he have faked that wild, abandoned noise of falling? Could he really have put on those dreadful cries of astonished pain?

Cautiously, cradling Jamie close all the while, I got to my feet. Luckily the little boy was already fast asleep again, exhausted.

I could see nothing in the darkness. Craig’s light had gone out—or he had put it out. By transferring Jamie’s weight to my hip, I freed one arm for my own flashlight.

With slow, careful steps I picked my way toward Craig, expecting at every moment that he might leap up at me.

Even with the flashlight playing on the ground ahead, even with all the care I was taking, I could easily have fallen into the fissure that suddenly gaped at my feet. I pulled up, swaying at the very edge.

The cleft was perhaps ten feet deep, its sides steep and lined with bracken. My flashlight picked out Craig’s still figure lying at the bottom. He was face downward, one leg twisted awkwardly under his body.

Was this my chance to escape? Should I make a dash for it while my enemy was out of action? But could I leave Jamie’s father lying unconscious? Could I leave Craig helpless, perhaps even dying?

For a horrified second I wondered if he was dead already. But as I stared down anxiously, he gave a deep groan.

Jamie still slept, and my arms were aching from his solid weight. I stood there looking down at Craig, afraid and uncertain.

Softly, I called his name. The only answer was another long deep groan. But then Craig moved. Slowly he hoisted himself onto hands and knees. He lifted his head, and blinked painfully into the bright beam of my flashlight.

“Are you badly hurt?” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what sort of answer I wanted to that question.

He prodded himself gingerly. “No ... no, I don’t think so.” Then he tried to stand up, but abandoned the attempt at once. “I think my ankle’s sprained. And I got an almighty clout on the head.”

“I see....”

Alistair Lennox would be back quite soon to hear Craig’s shouts for help. As for that, I could always send assistance myself when I was well away. He wouldn’t come to any harm staying where he was for a while, except to get wet.

But still I didn’t go. Something held me there, and I stood gazing stupidly at Craig, miserable with indecision.

Abruptly, he seemed to remember the events that had brought him here, to land him in such a helpless and painful situation. From being rueful, his voice switched to sudden truculence.

“What the devil have you been up to, Lucy? Running off like that and leading us such a helluva dance?”

“What did you expect me to do?” I flung back at him bitterly. “Did you think I was just going to sit around and wait?”

“Wait? Wait for what?”

“As if you didn’t know very well.”

I was shining the flashlight right into his eyes, and he put up a hand to shade them. When he spoke again, the cutting edge of his voice was blunted.

“Was it because you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jamie?”

“How could I possibly have left him with you—a
murderer?”

‘‘What?
Oh my God.” Somehow he scrambled to his feet, clawing at the bracken for support. His face was sweating, twisted up with pain. “What in the hell are you talking about, Lucy?
Me
a murderer ... ”

“I know that you killed Margo.”

“Margo ... ?” He shook his head, bewildered, as if pain had slowed his mental reactions. “But I told you what happened. You know perfectly well...”

“Oh yes, for a while you got me to believe your fantastic story. I even began to think Margo hadn’t been altogether ... well, fair to you.”

Craig’s legs gave way under him, and he slumped again, ten feet below me in the rocky cleft. When he rallied a little, he was too weak for anger, but he managed to bite me with sarcasm.

“Have you decided, on reflection, that your beloved cousin was nothing but purest white after all—is that it?”

“Whatever Margo may have been couldn’t possibly justify your killing her.”

“And might I inquire ...” he said, still with heavy irony. “Might I ask just
why
I’m supposed to have killed Margo? What was my
motive?”

“I don’t know. You’re the only one who can answer that, now that Margo is dead.”

“So all this is pure guesswork on your part? Without a single concrete fact to go on, you calmly accuse me of murder.”

Helpless to do anything but talk for the present, he was trying to discover how much I knew. I decided that it wouldn’t be a bad thing to tell him. He might as well know that I was fully aware of his evil intentions.

“I didn’t have to be very clever to put two and two together,” I said. “When I realized you were trying to kill me, then I knew for sure that you must have murdered Margo. I had to be silenced for good.”

All this time I was keeping the flashlight beam full upon him, watching his every smallest movement. I saw him lift his shoulders, and then drop them again impotently. I knew he was longing for the strength to climb out and get at me.

“Lucy, you can’t ... surely you can’t seriously believe that I want to kill you?”

“You very nearly succeeded. That pile of logs—it was sheer chance I wasn’t crushed to death.”

“But you must be out of your mind if you think I had anything to do with—”

I cut right across him. “And the way the towel rail was fixed. It was a stroke of luck for me that I spotted a piece of the plastic insulation in the bath.”

“Lucy, you idiot. I was the one who disconnected
that dangerous towel rail afterwards...” He stopped short, then went on slowly, “Did you say there was a bit of insulation in the bath?”

“If you’d been more careful to clear everything up after your tampering, then I would have been killed. But that tiny shred of plastic put me on my guard. So I did an experiment, using some wire coat hangers to join the towel rail to the bath water. The whole thing damn nearly blew up. I knew the truth about you then, all right.”

There was a long silence, and I began to wonder if Craig had lost consciousness again. Jamie’s weight on my left arm was intolerable now. He was still fast asleep against my shoulder, heedless of the drizzling rain. Awkwardly clutching the flashlight, I shifted him over to my other side.

I was so preoccupied with this maneuver, and with wondering what to do about Craig if he really was unconscious, that at first my mind didn’t register the sound of Alistair Lennox returning. By the time it had penetrated, the jeep was already quite near.

Craig heard it at the same moment, and jerked back to life. He called up to me urgently, “Don’t say anything about all this to my uncle.”

“You tried that trick of asking me to keep quiet once before,” I threw back at him scornfully. “Well, this time it won’t work.”

“But, Lucy ... ”

He was making desperate efforts to stand up again, grunting and gasping with pain. The jeep was very close now, and its noise seemed to act as a spur to Craig. On his feet at last, he reached out for handholds in the rock, and tried to drag himself up the sides of the cleft.

It was a futile effort until he started using his injured foot. The agony of it made him cry out, but I saw to my dismay that he was going to succeed.

He managed to hitch himself onto a ledge about three feet up, and took a few second’s rest. His head was now only about a foot below ground level. I could see the sweat and rain glistening on his face as he looked up at me.

“You’ve got to help me out of this, Lucy....”

“Help you?” I backed away, and the flashlight beams no longer reached him. “You must be mad to think I’d help you.”

His voice came from out of the blackness. “For God’s sake, Lucy, listen to me. You mustn’t...”

His craven pleading was drowned by the roar of the jeep as it reached the crossroads and pulled up. With sudden decision I turned and began to run, shouting as loudly as I could.

“Mr. Lennox. Mr. Lennox.”

Jamie was awake instantly, and I could feel him struggling. But I had no time to worry about him just then.

Mercifully, my feet found even ground. Somehow I sped through the jungle of bracken without tripping. And then I was on the road, hurrying up to the jeep.

Behind me I heard a frantic scrabbling. Craig must have been hauling himself bodily out of the fissure. I half turned, swinging the flashlight back in his direction, and saw that already he was on his feet.

He was struggling forward, one arm stretched out, desperate to catch me.
“Lucy,”
he screamed.

And then I was running on, stumbling dangerously under Jamie’s weight. I had only a few more yards to go.

The jeep’s engine was still running, and I glimpsed Alistair Lennox’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. Just seeing the dancing flashlight rays, he probably thought it was Craig coming. Faintly, I heard a last shout from way behind me.