Deep Water, Mark Ayre [e novels to read online TXT] 📗

to see the sun sweep the darkness from the sky. At Abbie’s side, he kept his gaze on his feet except for the occasional directional check. His focus remained on keeping the tears at bay. It was a battle he was winning. Just.

They didn’t talk. Abbie knew Tony’s younger sister had been a teenager, a decade or so younger than him. He claimed Louis had murdered the girl, but Abbie guessed he meant Louis had given the order. People who lived in six-bedroom houses rarely did their own killing. Tony hadn’t detailed how his sister had died, and Abbie didn’t press for info. Now was not the time. This didn’t stop her considering the situation.

Those involved in organised crime killed less frequently than most people believed. Murder was messy, and crooked enterprises had enough trouble keeping their drug dealing and weapon running from the police without leaving dead bodies all over the place. For Louis to have risked killing a teenager, there had to be a major feud between the families. To Abbie, this indicated Tony’s mother was no saint. Tony had described her as the head of the family. Abbie could not prevent herself from imagining a female Don Corleone.

Reaching the beach, they made their way west along the concrete pavement, above the strip of sand where last night a party had taken place. Abbie took note when they passed the cave in which Abbie had almost killed Ana. No one stood outside. If anyone was inside, they were silent. Abbie guessed Ana was long gone.

As she passed the cave, memories of Harry flocked once more to Abbie’s mind. When she shoved them away, they were replaced by images of Violet, her beautiful, smiling sister, in the days before her murder. A subconsciously driven hand reached for Abbie’s bag. It felt the outline of The Stand. Violet’s favourite book and the only possession of her sister’s Abbie had kept.

When Abbie moved Violet aside, Bobby replaced her. Abbie’s heart hitched at the sight of him. He had a handsome smile, but that wasn’t why Abbie focused on it. That easy, gentle smile represented the ordinary life of which Abbie had temporarily believed she could grab a slice. It had given her hope. Now, it morphed into a source of depression. Pushing it away, Abbie continued along the beach, forcing herself to focus on the next step and the next. Nothing else.

“This is it.”

Abbie glanced at the house to which Tony was pointing and smiled. Their entire walk along the beach, the house had been in sight, but Abbie had never considered it might be their destination. As soon as Tony pointed, she thought, Of course it is. That house on the rocks, that eyesore hanging over the ocean, was always going to be the place.

The house itself was a similar size to Louis’. Perhaps a little bigger. Definitely not smaller, though it didn’t have a back garden. Instead, a sheer drop and the ocean. Great for views, not so good for a kick about.

“It was my step-father’s place,” said Tony. “No one wanted him to build it, but when someone with his wealth decides they want something... you know how it goes.”

“Was his place?” said Abbie.

“Yeah,” said Tony. “He’s dead now. Like the rest.”

On this intriguing comment, Tony turned from the path and made his way along the outcrop, the beach to his left, more rocks and water to his right. The house at the end.

Abbie followed. To her, the house didn’t look right. It seemed to belong on a gated street full of other six-ten bedroom detached homes. Not on this outcrop of rocks by the sea. The house that sat here should be tall and narrow. Looking at it, you should get the sense that a strong gust might at any moment blow it into the sea. You should never feel safe stepping into a place that hung over the sea.

Stupid thoughts. The wealthy were often eccentric; that did not mean they built houses that might at any second drop into the ocean. That was not how the rich stayed rich.

There was no gate. The driveway held space for four cars. A garage to the side could park two more. Currently, there was only one car outside. With his key, Tony let them inside.

“Good thing you didn’t have to pick the lock,” said Abbie. To his look, she said, “Too soon?”

A spacious hallway led to a large kitchen. Before that, Tony opened the first door on the left and led Abbie into a circular living room full of comfortable sofas and a gorgeous rug. Around the room's edges were cabinets and shelving, giving the place a cluttered but homely feel. Abbie saw books for all ages, fiction and non-fiction, as well as what appeared to be every board game ever invented.

"Mum's big on family," Tony said, catching Abbie's eye as she surveyed the room. "Make yourself at home. I'll find mum. You want a drink?"

Tony's eyes were red and puffy. Abbie figured half from sleep deprivation and half from misery. She wished she could comfort him but thought it best not to go down that road.

"A water if you're getting yourself something," she said. "Nothing otherwise."

Tony left her to settle. Crossing the room, Abbie positioned herself so she could see the only door, the one through which she had entered and through which Tony had just left, and the only window, which was wide, tall, and looked onto the driveway towards the homes that had to hate this place's existence.

The seat was comfortable, but Abbie's churning mind prevented her from relaxing in the five minutes before the living room door reopened. It was not Tony who entered, but his mother. Abbie wasn't surprised.

"Good morning," said Tony's mum.

As Abbie rose, Ma Tony closed the living room door and offered a hand. Abbie guessed there would be no water. "Alice Rayner. You must be Abbie."

Taking the older woman's hand, Abbie shook, smiled and said, "That's me."

“Just not by birth?”

“Not by