Darkness Falls (Kate Marshall, #3)(85)

What is he doing? thought Tristan, as his feet hit the damp sand. It was harder to run on the sandy surface in his heavy trainers, but Bill was moving faster in bare feet. The wind was now screaming off the shore and blowing a layer of sand along the beach. It whipped around Tristan’s head, getting in his eyes and stinging his skin.

“Bill! Stop!” he shouted, but the wind took the words out of his mouth, and he choked on the sand. Bill ran toward a flock of seagulls huddled in a group, and they took flight, soaring above Tristan, cawing and screaming into the sky.

The farther out they ran, the wetter the sand became. Bill was holding the shotgun in both hands and pumping it side to side to give him momentum. Tristan could now see where the waves were breaking on the wet sand far in the distance, and when he glanced back, the houses were far behind. He was alone in this no-man’s-land with Bill, a gun, and one shell.

Bill glanced back and looked like he was slowing down. The sand was growing wetter and ridged in places with pools of seawater. Tristan’s shoes were wet and were sinking a couple of inches into the sand with each step he took.

Tristan gained on him further, narrowing the gap between them to a few meters. Bill turned back, but as he did, he tripped and went crashing down on the sand. The shotgun flew out of his hands. Tristan crashed into him and tripped, and they both ended up lying on the sand. Tristan knew he’d got himself into a stupid situation. Bill was either going to kill himself or try to kill Tristan, or they were going to drown in the sinking sand.

Tristan was still lying on his front, but before he could get up, Bill grabbed him and rolled him over onto his back. Bill was on top of him, pinning him down, and he felt Bill’s hands around his throat.

“You think you can bully me? You think you can push me around?” Bill shouted, his face red and eyes crazed. Tristan could feel Bill’s hands tighten on his throat, and he lifted his legs, trying to get leverage to push Bill off him.

The wet sand underneath started to give as Bill pushed down on his neck. The sounds of the wind and surf were muffled as the back of his head and his ears sank into the wet, sludgy sand. It flooded over his face, enveloping his head in darkness, going into his nose. He felt Bill above, pushing. His grip was loosening on Tristan’s neck, but Bill was going to push him deep into the wet sand and drown him.

Tristan tried to move his arms and legs, but he was now half-submerged in the wet sand. He felt the air being pushed out of his lungs. He was going to drown.



Kate ran as fast as she could across the beach. She could make out the shape of Bill crouching on the sand. Her arm was in pain with the scarf tied around the flesh wound, but it had slowed the flow of blood. As she got closer, she could see Bill pushing Tristan down into the soft sand. The whole of his head and upper body were submerged, and Bill’s hands were under the sandy sludge. Tristan’s feet were kicking in the air.

Bill’s face was transfixed on Tristan drowning in the sand; the veins stood out on his arms, and he was sweating and shaking with the effort.

Kate saw the shotgun lying on the sand. She ran to it, picked it up by the barrel, and swung the handle at Bill, hitting him across the back of his head. There was a crack as it made contact, and he cried out and let go of Tristan, landing on his side, dazed.

“Tristan!” Kate cried. She reached down into where he was submerged and found his torso. She knelt down, hooked her arms under him, and with a huge heave, she leaned back onto her heels, pulling. At first, he wouldn’t budge, and she thought they were both going to sink down deeper, but with a soft sucking sound, Tristan emerged from the sand, and they fell back together.

“It’s okay,” she said, wiping the sand from his face. He spat and heaved, and his body was covered in a thick layer of brown. Finally, he took a deep, rattling breath.

“Where is he? I can’t see,” said Tristan. Bill was lying still on his side.

“I hit him with the gun,” said Kate. She went to one of the pools of clear seawater, scooped it up, and came back to Tristan and used it to clean his face. Then she saw Bill’s head twitch, and he moved across the sand, grabbed the shotgun, and rolled over. He pointed the gun at Kate and pulled the trigger, but there was a click as the hammer struck the empty barrel. He pulled the trigger again, and Kate cried out, but it clicked again.

“No, no, no!” cried Bill, searching for the single shell he’d brought with him. Kate saw it just behind him, and she ran to it and grabbed it, stuffing it in her pocket.

She was glad to hear shouts coming from the shore, and a group of police officers were running across the sand toward them.

A moment later, the police reached them and arrested Bill, putting handcuffs on his wrists.

“Bill Norris, Nick Lacey. You are under arrest on suspicion of murder,” said the police officer fixing on the cuffs. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Kate went to Tristan, who was now lying on the sand catching his breath.

“I thought that was me done for,” said Tristan, spitting out more sand. “Jesus.”

Three police officers were leading Bill away toward the houses.

“We need to move, quickly,” said another of the officers, coming over to Kate and touching her on the shoulder. “The tide’s coming in, and it can move faster than we can walk.”