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

wouldn't have noticed the blood droplets on his jacket. Abbie had. Even the tiny specs were enough to make ditching that item of clothing worthwhile. The rest of his outfit appeared clean.

Abbie grabbed her boots, gave them a quick examination. They looked fine. Good; she shoved them on. Checked her phone. They had about fifty seconds.

"Come on," she said, taking Tony's hand. "Time to go."

Thankfully, Tony offered no resistance as Abbie led him to the cave mouth. In the past, she had dealt with first-time murderers who flopped over their victim's body and howled, refusing to be moved. There would have been hell to pay if that had happened here after Abbie had told Ben he had no need to worry. That he should trust her.

From the cave's mouth, Abbie looked east. There were still a few people enjoying a cold day out. None were coming Abbie's way. Perfect. To the west, there was nothing but empty sand, rocks, two sets of stone steps leading up from the beach, and Tony's house, looking out over the sea.

She could hear neither sirens nor voices. She tugged on Tony's hand.

"Let's go."

Abbie made her way along the rock wall, Tony following like a lobotomised man with no will or mind of his own.

A hundred metres from Tony's home, they reached the final set of stone steps and made their way up to the pavement.

A car sped past. Tony whimpered. Giving his hand another squeeze, Abbie led the damaged man home.

There were no cars in the driveway. Given who Tony's family were, they were unlikely to call the police even if the lot of them were inside playing board games and immediately gathered what Tony and Abbie had done. Still, Abbie didn't fancy a confrontation with Angel or Ariana. Alice would be okay, but Abbie hoped they would find the house empty.

They were in luck. Upon crossing the threshold and closing the door, Abbie asked Tony to call out. When he wouldn't, Abbie shouted upstairs and into the kitchen. In the thirty seconds that followed, they heard not a whisper.

"Bin bags," she said to Tony. "Where are they?"

After some prompting, Tony showed Abbie to the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. As Abbie removed a single bag from the roll, Tony remained a couple of metres away, clutching his right arm in his left hand and staring at the wall. Abbie felt a rush of pity. Despite being born to a criminal mother and having a ruthless older sister, Tony grew up to be an ordinary, kind-hearted guy. Seeing him now, it was astounding he had ever thought he could kill Louis in cold blood, even if he genuinely believed the crook had murdered his sister.

Putting the bag over her shoulder, Abbie went to Tony, took his hand, squeezed again.

"Show me your room."

There were seven bedrooms upstairs: two for guests, the master for Alice, then one each for Alex, Tony, Ariana, and the recently deceased Aurora. Angel and Adam both had houses nearby, though Adam hadn’t needed his for almost a decade.

This house had belonged to Morris and so, after the master, Ariana and Aurora, his daughters, had the largest rooms. Alex and Tony's rooms were smaller but would have made more than acceptable master bedrooms in most detached properties. Tony's en-suite was as big as the main bathroom in Abbie's childhood home.

"You're tidy. Good to see."

Tony looked to Abbie but didn't respond. She gestured to the clean surfaces, the immaculate carpet, the bare walls, and the made Queen sized bed, as though he might not have known to what she was referring. Then she handed him the bin bag.

"Go into the bathroom and undress. Clothes in the bin bag but don't tie it. I need it as well. Get in the shower and wash as you normally would, then rewash. When you're as clean as it's possible to be, one more wash, then come find me. Though you might want to wrap yourself in this first." Abbie took a towel from the radiator and pressed it into Tony's free hand.

Abbie had spoken slowly, clearly, as though to a child or someone who had an okay grasp of the language and was keen to learn. She wasn't sure if Tony got it.

"Okay?" she said again.

"Sure," he managed. But Abbie still had to guide him into the bathroom. "I'm out here if you need me."

Closing the door, Abbie checked her phone. By now, Ben's team would have almost finished with the scene. They were professionals. Thorough but fast. Abbie had never met them, but the fact the police had never arrested her for a murder Ben’s team had cleaned up was a testament to the quality of their work. When they were done, Ben would text Abbie and send someone to collect the clothing Abbie and Tony would have binned. By the end of the day, not only would there be no evidence linking Abbie and Tony to the murders, but no evidence the murders had even happened.

Except for the names of the dead men that Ben would find, and Abbie would add to her little black book of shame.

Shame.

Abbie did the usual. Phone still in hand, she closed her eyes and reminded herself these men had come at her with knives. In a perfect world, she would have beaten them, left them unconscious but still breathing. In a way, this was better. Abbie had assaulted many men and women in her time and had found defeat rarely humbled them. More often than not, they came seeking revenge, and she ended up killing them anyway. She had to accept that those she never saw again were probably off ruining more lives.

Yes, by killing Baldie, Abbie had made the world a better place. Same for Tony with Blondie, but Tony would struggle to see it. Better for Abbie to forget about the men who had come at her with knives and to instead focus on the man in the bathroom next door. She'd let him down. Had