Death on the Lake, Jo Allen [e reader TXT] 📗

up at George's house, I went straight away. I was terrified they’d got into trouble somehow. I even worried that they might somehow have killed Luke, although my head told me they couldn’t have done. I went to the house. The place was dark.’

‘The family hadn’t been in since George died.’

‘No. The door was open, but we all knew where he kept his key, so I assumed the boys were in there. When I went in I saw a shadow. A figure. And I knew. They’d come for me. I’d been right to be afraid and it was finally happening.’ She bit her lip. ‘I was sure I was going to die.’

The kitchen clock ticked. In the bowels of the house a mobile phone rang. Outside, a pair of jackdaws fretted their way across the lawn. ‘So what happened then?’ Ashleigh asked.

‘It was Ryan Goodman, that man who had upset George. I knew about it through the local chat. I’d never met him. He had a gun but I moved very quickly. You don’t know what you can do until you’re scared for your life, do you?’

She lifted her coffee cup, but it never touched her lips and she set it down again. ‘I lunged at him and the gun went off. I swear I felt the bullet go past, but it didn’t hit me. I grabbed the chair and I must have got a lucky hit. He fell over. He must have hit his head on the table or something, because he didn’t get up.’

‘And then? What did you do?’

‘I should have called 999.’ Miranda inspected her fingernails. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t. But then he came round and—’

‘And?’

‘I helped him up. He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know where he was, or who he was. I spoke to him and called him by his name and he just looked back at me. So I told him I’d take him back to the house and help him, and I took him along to the church. I hit him with the stone at the gate and then I buried him in poor George’s grave.’ At last she began to weep, silent tears that rolled down her cheek and dropped into the plate among the crumbs.

Ashleigh got up and fetched her a second piece of kitchen paper.

‘I had no choice,’ Miranda said to her, accepting it. ‘At any moment he might have killed me.’

But she was lying. If Ryan had come to his senses he could still have carried out her execution and every moment she’d spent with him was a risk. She must have had help. Jude saw Ashleigh about to say something, probably the same thing, and shook his head at her. It would wait. ‘Okay, Mrs Neilson. In the light of this confession, I’m going to take you back with me and ask you to repeat your statement in an interview room and in the presence of a lawyer. You’re under arrest for the murder of Karl Faulkner, also known as Ryan Goodman. Further charges relating to the death of Summer Raine may follow. You aren’t obliged to say anything further, and anything you do say will be taken down and may be used against you in court.’

Miranda dipped her head. They stood up and she piled the coffee cups and plates in the sink. ‘I’d better tell Robert,’ she said, as they went into the hall.

‘Tell Robert what?’ The man himself erupted from the distance. ‘Miranda?’ His face was concerned.

‘I’ve told the police about Ryan.’ She faced him. ‘I told them I killed him. I told them how I took him to the churchyard. That I buried him.’

As clear as day, she was warning him. The game might be up but Miranda, it was clear, was still prepared to lie to protect those she cared for. Jude met Ashleigh’s eye, and nodded. Best to leave Robert for someone else to pick up. There was nowhere he could run to.

‘I’m calling my solicitor.’ He dived back towards his office. ‘I’ll follow you up. Don’t worry, Miranda. I’m in control of this situation. Do as they tell you just now. It’ll all be sorted out.’

They headed out of the house, Aida hovering behind them. ‘Mrs Neilson. If there’s anything you need…’

‘It’s all right thank you, Aida. Everything will be fine. And at least I’ll be safe.’

At Ashleigh’s side, she moved towards the Mercedes while Jude, on the driver’s side, called Doddsy. ‘Get a couple of cars down to the Neilsons’, would you? We’re bringing in Miranda. She’s got a confession for us. I want you to bring in Robert on suspicion of aiding and abetting, if not for murder itself.’ It wouldn’t take long to get the truth of what happened in the churchyard, even if Miranda thought her easy confession had worked. He closed down the call. ‘Okay, Mrs Neilson. Let’s go.’

Miranda went willingly. ‘If I’m honest,’ she said as Jude went round to the driver’s seat of the Mercedes, ‘it’s a relief. In prison I’ll be safe.’

Jude looked back at the house, directly at Robert who was standing on the gravel with Aida a few yards behind him. Something about Robert’s uncertainty held his attention and then he saw the financier reach into his pocket, saw the slight fumble that suggested he didn’t quite know what to do, saw the flash of sunlight on the barrel of a compact hand gun.

Christ.

‘Drop that!’ he shouted, too late to stop Robert’s finger on the trigger or the bullet that hissed along an impossibly fortunate line between Ashleigh, Miranda and himself and starred the two front windows of the Mercedes.

As Miranda screamed, Jude moved. Too late, too far away.

‘Stop right there!’ said Robert, his voice shaking. ‘Everyone stay still.’

Jude stopped. Miranda had taken shelter behind Ashleigh, crouched against her body with her fingers digging into Ashleigh’s arms, restraining her protector from taking on her attacker. The second bullet, which would surely have found Miranda’s heart or her