See How They Run (36 page)

R
uth kept
the gun trained on Laird as he moved another couple of paces across the lawn.

‘I want you to put Evie down, very slowly.’

He shook his head. ‘Not gonna happen, Ruth. And I warn you, when my guys see you with that gun, you’ll be dead in an instant.’

‘Shouldn’t they be here by now? Don’t you think that crash we heard means that something’s gone wrong?’

‘You’d like to think so.’

When he glanced to his left it seemed like a classic ploy to distract her. But then Ruth sensed movement, looked quickly and found Harry French, battered and exhausted, hurrying towards them. He was accompanied by an equally weary-looking woman that Ruth assumed must be his wife.

Alice French saw Laird first – or, rather, she saw her daughter in Laird’s arms – and only then did she register that Ruth was facing them. With a gun.

She screamed, tried to run towards Ruth but Harry grabbed her, then had to withstand her frenzied attempts to break free.

Ruth couldn’t afford to lose her focus on Laird. She gestured with the gun.

‘Give up, Nathan. You’re outnumbered.’

He shook his head. Ruth was determined not to be intimidated by this brazen show of confidence. She steadied her aim, all too aware of how terrifying this must be for Harry and Alice; willing them to understand the position she was in.

A
lice had run
past the house and stopped at the sight of a man and a woman on the lawn. The man was holding Evie at arm’s length, and the woman – Ruth? – was pointing a gun at Evie.

At Evie.

It was a sight that transformed Alice into a wild animal. She wanted to fall upon this woman, gun or no gun, and tear her to pieces.

But Harry restrained her and wouldn’t let go, and for a second or two she lost her senses and despised him for that. It even flashed through her mind that maybe this woman, Ruth, was Harry’s lover; that they were in this together, plotting against her.

‘Give her to me! Put the gun down!’

Laird ignored her. Ruth shook her head. It was left to Harry to explain.

‘Alice, stay calm.
He
’s the danger. Not Ruth.’

But even now, when he was trying so hard to make her see, wasn’t there an undercurrent of doubt in his voice?

Oh God: Harry didn’t genuinely trust Ruth. He’d merely pretended that he did – and Alice, foolishly, had gone along with it.

Well, not any more. Not with her daughter’s life at stake.

‘I’m calling the police,’ she told them.

I
should just shoot him
, Ruth was thinking.
Evie’s not my daughter; not my problem.

And I’m entitled to retribution, aren’t I, after what I’ve been through?

If it was true that Nathan had done the right thing by Benjamin, why the hell hadn’t he told her years ago? He could have had a quiet word with Greg, or even – God forbid – have consulted her on the decision to let his half-sister adopt. Instead he’d done everything in his power to torment her.

Laird, like the rest of them, heard Alice’s declaration of intent. He didn’t seem unduly concerned by it. Ruth was aware of Harry muttering something to his wife, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her finger was tightening on the trigger, carefully, smoothly. It had been years since she’d used a firearm, and she was no doubt severely out of practice.

Laird stepped towards her. A single step: not threatening, but purposeful.

‘You don’t want this baby to die, Ruth.’

‘So put her down.’

‘Oh, I will. Are you ready?’

‘Nathan …’

Teeth clenched in a snarl, he drew Evie back towards him and lowered her to waist level. Only now did they realise what he was about to do.

‘Okay, Ruth. She’s in your hands.’

And he threw the baby into the air.

A
lice was dialling
, focused on the phone, when she heard the man speak. His voice was crueller than his appearance suggested. The words were meant only for Ruth, but Alice’s attention was caught by the words ‘baby’ and ‘die’.

By the time he spoke again she was running towards them, her phone bouncing on the grass, Harry half a second behind her, but Alice was already too late.

They were both too late.

L
aird threw
the baby as high as he could. Evie’s survival was immaterial: all he cared about was getting away.

Only Ruth was close enough to save her. The impulse to do so, it turned out, was far stronger than any desire for revenge. She threw the gun aside and held out both arms in a cradling motion, almost dancing on her toes as she adjusted her position, making frantic calculations with regard to speed and distance and the angle of descent, all in the space of a few heartbeats.

And when those calculations were complete, when Evie had thudded into her hands and been swiftly gathered in, Ruth toppling backwards with the effort of lessening the impact, landing heavily but nonetheless feeling elated that she had caught the baby safely … when this was done, and the danger had passed, she looked round for Laird and he was nowhere to be seen.

R
uth might not have spotted
where he went, but Harry did. At that point he was behind Alice, who ran to Ruth and scooped Evie out of her grasp before realising that Harry wasn’t with her.

He was counting on those few seconds to put some distance between them, so that she wouldn’t be able to stop him, or make him see reason.

Laird had headed past the summer house and plunged into the undergrowth on the slopes beyond the garden. It was only when Harry reached the edge of the lawn that he discovered how steeply the land fell away, and how dark it was in the trees.

He heard Alice screaming at him to come back but it was impossible to reconsider now. Knowing that she and Evie were no longer in danger, he was seized by a determination not to let Laird escape. He could just about see his target crashing through the trees, perhaps thirty or forty feet away. Laird was well-dressed, and probably wearing thin-soled shoes, whereas Harry wore trainers: on slippery leaves and mud that gave him a slight advantage.

Harry descended with no regard for his own safety, leaping from one patch of ground to another. As well as the darkness to contend with, there were obstacles everywhere: tree roots and low-hanging branches, puddles that concealed deep furrows; the sudden glassy smoothness of the rock that formed the walls of this gorge.

The rational part of his mind knew this wasn’t a good idea – he should have stayed with Alice and Evie. But Harry was spurred by a white-hot rage, and it would not be tempered by caution or common sense. This man had used Harry’s eight-week-old baby as a human shield. He wasn’t going to get away with that.

Harry had narrowed the gap to about twenty feet when it occurred to him that he was unarmed. If Laird saw there was only one man chasing him, he might decide to stop and fight, especially as the ground had begun to level out a little.

Well, if he did, so be it.

Fortunately Laird seemed too intent on escape to spare any time in looking back. He put on a burst of speed, then disappeared so suddenly that Harry thought he must be going crazy. It was like some kind of visual effect: here, not here.

His legs went on running while his brain tried to make sense of it. Laird had been moving far too fast to duck or hide.

The answer came when Harry struck the same patch of mud and weeds, soaked by the earlier rain, and realised that he couldn’t stop now if he wanted. He tried taking longer strides, but that only increased his speed.

And then he saw why Laird had vanished. This stretch of slightly flatter ground had effectively formed a ledge, about halfway down the side of the gorge. Even from twenty feet back it was impossible to tell that it ended in a sheer drop. Moving with too much momentum to stop, Laird had simply run over the edge. Now Harry was about to do the same.

H
e had
two steps left on solid ground. Harry used the first to change direction, jumping to his right, towards a sturdy-looking tree that grew at the edge of the drop.

His second, final step took him side on, so that even as his weight propelled him into space, his upper body was able to twist round, facing the slope. Then, as he fell, he threw his arms above his head and scrabbled through the muck and leaves, desperately searching for the very things that moments ago he had been trying to avoid.

Tree roots.

His body slammed against the lip of the overhanging ledge, driving all the air from his lungs. His eyes were tightly shut – because he had no wish to witness his own death – and his legs were dangling in the air, helpless to resist the call of gravity. His fingers snagged something thin and sinuous, a cord or a tendon of a main root. It snapped off but he dragged his fingers more deeply into the earth and this time felt the tangle of thicker roots. The weight of his body tore some from the earth, throwing soil into his face as they stretched tight … and tighter still …

But held.

Gripping them with both hands, he pressed his feet against the rock face, searching out any small crevice. Once he had a foot lodged against solid rock he was able to push himself up a few inches, then lift one knee back on to the grass. Still clinging to the roots, he hauled himself to safety.

H
arry lay for a few seconds
, shocked and exhausted, almost incredulous that he had survived. A noise from below caused him to stir. He rose to his knees, wiped his face and spat sweet, mineral-rich crumbs of soil from his mouth.

Another groan. Harry leaned over and peered into the darkness. Laird was crumpled against a tree, about sixty feet below him. He’d fallen over a limestone cliff that actually represented only a short section of the gorge. To left and right Harry could see that the slope continued on much the same gradient as before. Laird had been spectacularly unlucky in his choice of route.

Harry made his way along the ridge until he reached a place where he could safely climb down. He kept a cautious eye on Laird as he approached the body. The only movement he saw was one foot, twitching weakly. At close range it became clear that the man was dying. His head was bent at an awkward angle, and there was a massive wound at the back of his skull, pouring blood into the earth.

And yet there was a small reaction as Harry knelt down. Perhaps sensing his presence, Laird managed to open his eyes a fraction. He registered Harry’s gaze and looked vaguely disgusted, as if he’d never thought his end would come so soon, so dismally. Harry felt it would be hypocritical to offer any sort of comfort, so he said nothing.

With difficulty, Laird’s mouth formed a word: ‘R … Ruth.’

‘What about her?’

Laird exhaled, a long juddering breath that had to fight its way out. Somehow, after that, he whispered, ‘Sold him.’

‘What?’

‘Tell her … I sold him.’

His lips twisted into a bitter smile, and he died.

H
arry heaved
himself back up the slope, often having to grab hold of branches to stay on his feet. He forced his aching legs to hurry, knowing how anxious Alice would be; and aware, too, that the danger hadn’t necessarily passed.

He spotted Ruth first, a ghostly shadow in a mass of grey and black, creeping through the trees with the gun in her hand. He called out to her in a tentative voice, half afraid that she would turn and shoot; even more afraid that she would somehow guess what he’d just learned. When she saw him, Harry waved and pointed up towards the house. They converged on the edge of the lawn, and by then there was only time to explain that Laird was dead, before Harry was reunited with his wife and daughter.

For the next couple of minutes Ruth hung back at a respectful distance. Finally she coughed to attract Harry’s attention. He looked at her, reluctantly, the secret like a lead weight in his guts.

‘Alice is insistent on calling the police,’ she said. ‘Do you go along with that?’

‘I think we have to.’

Ruth nodded. ‘In that case, I can’t hang around. You can tell them you tried to keep me here, but I threatened you.’

He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Snapped out of it, and said, ‘So we are allowed to mention you, then?’

A shrug. ‘I’d love it if you didn’t, but there’s no way I want either of you getting into trouble for this.’

She updated them on what she’d done here, and where the various casualties could be found. She stressed that they should make no mention of firearms until the police were in attendance.

‘Otherwise it’ll be hours before they even enter the premises, and meanwhile you’ll be freezing to death out here.’

Alice had already told her what had happened to Foster and Bridge. Ruth offered to sit in the Range Rover and leave her DNA in the driving seat, so they could claim she was responsible for the collision – otherwise Harry would be open to charges of disproportionate force.

‘Juries are going to cut you a lot of slack, but you could do without all the crap that goes with a prosecution.’

Harry thanked her, but said he would take his chances. ‘If we start lying we’ll just get in more trouble.’

Alice agreed. ‘We’re not going to lie.’

‘Okay,’ Ruth said. ‘Can I recommend you say that in the confusion you hit their car by accident? Apart from that, you and Alice haven’t committed any crimes. You’re the victims here.’

T
hen came the farewells
. Alice gave Ruth a quick embrace, with Evie pressed between them. She thanked Ruth for her help but Harry detected a coolness in her tone, reflecting her awareness that it hadn’t been straightforward altruism on Ruth’s part.

Alice sat down again, desperate to feed Evie. Harry walked with Ruth across the lawn. She dismantled the gun and left the components on the path.

‘Laird’s death,’ she said. ‘Definitely an accident?’

‘Absolutely. I had nothing to do with it.’ He was trembling, he realised, light-headed with indecision.

‘I don’t mean that. Could it have been deliberate, on his part?’

Harry considered it. ‘I don’t think so. It was dark, slippery. He just misjudged the terrain, same as me.’

Ruth nodded thoughtfully. Harry felt she was waiting, as if she knew he had more to tell her.

He formed the first difficult sentence in his head and opened his mouth to say it, just as Ruth blurted out: ‘He told me about Benjamin.’

Harry gulped. ‘Did he?’

‘Turns out he viewed the whole, uh, experience very differently to the way I did.
I
was the bad parent, not him.’ She sniffed, harshly, and forced a smile. ‘Benjamin’s been raised by Laird’s half-sister. She’s bringing him up as her own.’

Harry couldn’t speak, so he nodded again. ‘Do you …’ He coughed. ‘Do you know where to find her?’

‘No idea. I didn’t even know he had a half-sister. Anyway, Benjamin has a new life. He won’t remember anything about me.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I can’t disrupt that, just for my own selfishness, can I?’

Harry waited through an agonising pause, the emotion churning up his insides, before he said, ‘Will it go on torturing you, if you don’t find him?’

Ruth gave him what was possibly the saddest, bravest smile he’d ever seen.

‘I’ll try not to let it. That’s the best I can say.’

‘Good.’

‘Yes.’ The smile persisted, against all the odds. ‘Nathan’s given me a chance for closure. It would be crazy not to take it.’

Harry matched the smile, and knew that the secret had to die with Laird.

‘It would,’ he said.