Chapter 94

94

Gordon Collins knew he shouldn't have left his home that morning. It made him look guilty. Now that he was back, the house felt like a prison. The walls seemed to draw in on him, consuming him, even with the magnificent glass doors and the kitchen blinds left open. Should he ring one of his daughters to come stay with him? No, he might be putting her in danger. Was he in danger? He wasn't sure, but he did need Dutch courage to get through the night.

Opening a bottle of Kilbeggan Irish whiskey, he poured a generous measure, swallowed it, then poured another. He turned down the lights and sat in his Eames lounge chair in the dark, sipping and staring out at his shadowy garden with the lake somewhere in the distance. He wanted to ask himself where everything had gone wrong. A rhetorical question because he could pinpoint with precision the date and time. He sensed the growing knot in his stomach, the rapid beating of his heart and the rising heat in his face.

Draining the glass, he flung it at the triple-glazed floor-to-ceiling window. The Waterford crystal shattered. The reinforced glass pane did not.

‘Angry, are we?'

The voice behind him startled him more than the splintering tumbler.

Jumping up, he swivelled round, steadying himself with his hands on the back of the moving chair. ‘What the fuck? How did you get in?'

‘You gave me the code, remember? Or have you just marked me up as another proverbial notch on your bedpost.' She laughed. It was forced, with an underlying sinister tone.

She had a child with her. This caused him to momentarily baulk, but eventually he found his voice. ‘What do you want?'

‘I want to know what you're up to. Killing all those people.'

‘I did not kill anyone and you know it.'

‘Oh Gordon, I know nothing of the sort. They all had a connection to you. I really don't think you can talk yourself out of this one. You killed them. And I'll make sure the guards believe it.'

He felt perspiration bubble up on his forehead and trickle down the creases on either side of his nose. He knew she was smart, and now she was dangerous. ‘There's no evidence of any such thing.'

‘There's plenty of evidence.'

‘Then go to the guards, why don't you? Or is there a reason you have to barge into my home making daft accusations against me?'

‘You bankrolled that slut in recent years. Oh, I know. She told me. Have you no conscience? No sense of right and wrong?'

‘I think you're the one without a conscience.' He threw her words back at her. ‘Don't forget I know all about you and what you've done. I won't hesitate to use that knowledge if you dare come near me or enter my home again.'

‘You're in no position to threaten me. I know everything.'

‘You only think you do.'

‘Oh, and what is that supposed to mean?' For the first time there was a wobble of uncertainty in her voice.

‘Exactly what I said.'

‘I can say you had John Morgan killed. He was found on your fucking site after all. And I know about you using the escort agency. How low do you go?'

Her words burned a hole in his brain and his heartbeat trebled. How did she know about the escorts? He had a fake profile; that Greg Plunkett couldn't vet a paper bag.

He strode across the room, intending to grab her and push her back out the way she'd arrived. But he stopped when he caught sight of the child's wide eyes; only then did he see the knife in the woman's hand.

‘Hey, no need for violence,' he said, forcing his voice to be calm. ‘We can work this out.'

‘That's always your answer. Working things out. But look at the mess you've made.'

‘I'm serious. This time I can make things right.'

He sincerely hoped she believed him.

If not, he was a dead man.