Deep Water Mark Ayre (inspirational books for students txt) 📖

Even if someone had heard, they might have thought it was a car backfiring or dismissed it altogether.

Abbie didn't believe in taking chances. That meant not sticking around a second longer than necessary.

If she kept the blade in Baldie's stomach, he would eventually die. Not quickly enough. She released his hand, and he tried to pull the knife free but couldn't.

After prising Baldie's hand away, Abbie yanked the knife free, looked at Tony. The gun hung limply in his hand. He had been staring at Blondie but was now focused on Abbie. His eyes were wide, his face white. Like a boa constrictor, the shock was crushing him.

"Close your eyes," she said.

He continued to stare; didn't speak. He didn't have it in him.

"Tony, close your eyes. Do it now."

For a few more seconds, nothing. Then, slowly, Tony nodded. His trembling hand barely keeping hold of the gun, he did as told. Closed his eyes on the sick and sorry scene.

Abbie looked at the knife, the shining steel now dripping with blood. She met the eye of Baldie, who was staring at her, though he struggled to keep focus. Opening her mouth, Abbie prepared to say something witty, something to do with how she couldn't use the blade to make him hideous because he was born that way. Yeah, that would be film-worthy.

But Tony hadn't covered his ears and was already freaked out. Abbie cast him a quick glance to ensure he wasn't peaking, then carved open Baldie's throat and watched him bleed to death.

It did not take long.

Seventeen

The moment Baldie was dead, Abbie stood and removed her jacket, dumping it on the floor.

"You can open your eyes now," she told Tony while placing the blade with which she had killed Baldie atop her jacket. "It's going to be okay."

The situation might be. Tony was going to struggle. That much was plain to see.

Crossing the cave, Abbie removed her phone from her pocket, dialling the number she had years ago memorised while extracting the second knife from Blondie's dead grasp. As the call was answered, she dumped the second knife with the first on her jacket.

"Hello.”

"It's Abbie. I got a mess that needs cleaning up. You have someone nearby?"

"Of course. What's the situation?"

Crouching in front of Tony, Abbie prised the gun from his loose clasp and dumped it with the knives before folding her discarded jackets over the weapons.

"Two bodies," she said. "Two knives. One gun. I guess you're tracking me?"

"Always. Bit cold for a walk on the beach, isn't it?"

"There's a split in the rocks, a tiny cave," said Abbie, ignoring Ben's joke. "We'll leave everything here."

"Fine. How did the bodies become bodies?"

"Slit throat and bullet between the eyes. Single gunshot. We're pretty secluded here, but I can't guarantee no one heard."

"Let me worry about that. Are you alone?"

Abbie glanced at Tony, considered lying. Never a good idea where the seemingly omniscient Ben was concerned.

"No. There's one other."

"Will they be a problem?"

"No."

Silence. Ben considering, letting his mind churn through the options. Reiterating her point would seem desperate and make her look like a liar, so Abbie kept quiet.

"You sure?" said Ben.

"Yes."

"I'm trusting you."

"As well you should. Is there anything else?"

More silence as Ben calculated the next few steps.

"I'll have a team there exactly six minutes after we disconnect," said Ben. "You must not be there when they arrive. Everything else is standard procedure. Need I go through it?"

“Think I've got it by now."

"Fine. Must I give you any stern warnings about this—“

"No," Abbie cut in. "You must trust I know what I'm doing."

"And I do, Abagail. Now get moving. Your six minutes start…"

Ben hung up. Abbie turned at once to Tony, looked him over, then began to undress.

While Abbie had been on the phone, Tony had seemed to zone out. When she took off her hoody and then her top, revealing a plain bra and plenty of flesh, he stared. When she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, he began to shake his head.

"No, no. Not here. We can't here. You cannot be serious."

"Don't be stupid," she said, kicking off her boots and stepping out of her jeans. "Take off your jacket, put it on top of mine."

She gestured to where she was chucking her jeans, shirt and hoody. His words made her think. How depressing; she reckoned she had spent more time undressing to dispose of evidence after a killing than before jumping into bed with a guy. How many people could say that?

It was a cold afternoon. The wind whipped into the cave and seemed to settle, making the small space feel like a walk-in fridge. Even if Abbie didn't have a hard deadline, now only four minutes away, she would have no desire to stay undressed within the confines of this rock.

Pulling her boots from the wall, away from Baldie, she opened her drawstring bag and removed her change of clothes. A second pair of jeans, another tee, and a thin jumper. This one not hooded and no good at keeping out the cold.

Whatever. It would have to do.

Tony still hadn't moved.

"Oi, jacket off. Now."

Tony looked at her again, watched as she pulled up and buttoned the new pair of jeans. Seemingly satisfied she didn't want to make love to him on the bodies of their dead victims, he pulled himself to his feet and slowly removed his jacket, which he held in a limp hand, as he had the gun.

Abbie had pulled her tee over her head and had the jumper in her hands.

"Here," she said, nudging her discarded clothes pile with a toe. As Abbie pulled the jumper on over her head, she heard Tony approach and drop the jacket. Jumper on, she saw him shivering in front of her.

"Spin for me," she said.

He gave her another gormless look, and she sighed. Rather than asking again, she circled.

"You're fine."

He looked confused. That was okay. He didn't need to know Abbie was looking for visible evidence of their murderous acts. He probably