The Running Girls(83)
After the darkness of the cabin, the glare of the sun was blinding as they reached the deck. Squinting against it, Laurie joined Frank, who was standing precariously near the rear gunwale. Mosley was at the other end, his phone pointed at Frank as if he was lining up a photoshoot.
“At least let us have some water,” said Laurie, as Tilly struggled through the opening and joined them, her eyes half closed against the sun.
Mosley took three swift strides to reach them, grabbed Frank with lightning speed and cut his bindings. The old man cried out in pain as he lifted his hands in front of him and checked out the red, raw damage to his wrists.
Mosley stepped back. “Won’t want to get any saltwater on that,” he said, laughing to himself as he took his phone back out and pointed it at them. “There’s water in that container by your feet,” he added, pointing to a white box next to Laurie.
“Can you reach that, Frank?” said Laurie.
Frank nodded, groaning as he bent down and retrieved a bottle from the box. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to Laurie. “You first, then Tilly,” said Laurie, her throat crying out for the liquid.
“Isn’t this nice?” said Mosley, as Frank drank heavily before bringing the bottle to Tilly’s, then Laurie’s, lips. “When you’ve finished playing happy families,” he added, grabbing the now empty bottle from Frank.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Her hands were tied behind her but she had the element of surprise on her side. Bending into a crouch, she ran headfirst into Mosley’s midsection, the muscles of her legs groaning with effort as she drove him, staggering backward, toward the edge of the boat.
Mosley had been knocked off balance but managed to grab hold of the gunwale. Both Tilly and Frank joined in the effort, pushing at Laurie’s back, but it all proved to be to no avail. Mosley was unnaturally strong, and fought back, springing himself up and forcing the makeshift rugby scrum back until the three of them were in a heap on the floor, panting and defeated, at his feet.
Chapter Fifty
The helicopter was nowhere in sight, the boat alone in the water. They appeared to still be in Galveston Bay, the devastated peninsula visible in the distance.
“Now, that wasn’t nice,” said Mosley, who’d gone back to recording them on his phone’s camera.
“Why are you doing this?” said Laurie, still gasping for breath after the failed attempt to push him overboard.
“We’ve been through that, Detective, haven’t we?” Mosley sounded disappointed in her, as if the line of questioning was tiresome to him. He began speaking into his phone. “Do you hear that, David? Up until the last minute, she wanted to know why. But you know why, don’t you, David? You stole my life and it’s taken me a hell of a long time, let me tell you, but I am about to finally steal yours. The wheel has come full circle. I’ve taken your mother, and now your father and wife. After that, we will call it even. You can get on with your life and, if I survive this, I will get on with mine.”
Their only hope now was a return of the helicopter or a rescue boat. For that to have any chance of succeeding, Laurie had to keep him talking. “I understand that, Neil. You’re right, you’ve been over it. But what about the others—Grace and Maurice?”
“You don’t know the half about Uncle Maurice,” said Mosley, with a sneer. “I’ve been representing him for all these years, remember. The man is a pervert. It’s been only me and the blind eye of that make-believe sect he’s latched on to that’s kept him out of prison.”
“So he deserved to die?” said Laurie.
“Hell, yes, he did.”
“And Grace?”
Something approaching serenity crossed Mosley’s face at the mention of Grace. “My, she was a beauty. You like to run, Laurie, don’t you? I’ve watched you. It’s not your fault, but you’re graceless. You get the job done, but that is what it is to you, isn’t it—a job? You stampede your way through to the end. It’s the same when you walk. Must be those thick legs of yours. No lightness, no finesse.”
Laurie had no idea what he was talking about, but willed him to continue. “OK. But what does any of that have to do with killing Grace?”
“I’m getting there. You’re in a hurry?” He tittered, then sighed. “Young Grace. Grace was like a gazelle. In the way she ran, and the way she walked. Funny thing is, your wife was like that too,” said Mosley, pointing the phone’s camera toward Frank, who was shaking next to Laurie. “A beautiful woman. She used to mesmerize me when I would watch her. Grace was the closest I had ever seen to her, and that was why.”
“I still don’t see why that meant she had to die,” Laurie said. “You’re not making—”
“My mother was a runner, though I never got the pleasure of seeing her run.” Mosley fingered the phone as though zooming in on Frank. “Had a type, huh, Dad? I get that. I do. That’s my inheritance from you, maybe, because that’s my type, too. Very much my—”
“Your mother used to run?” said Laurie, as she felt a movement behind her. Tilly, struggling to slip something in her back pocket. Mosley had turned the camera on her again and Laurie kept looking intently into it, at Mosley, willing him to focus on her as she accepted Tilly’s object.