The Running Girls(84)
“I wished I’d been able to see her, just the once,” said Mosley dreamily. “But she told me about her races, how she would glide along the track.”
“You think she would like what you’re doing?”
The look of serenity vanished. “OK,” he barked, “all of you up, sit on the side of the boat, facing the water. Do it. Or I’ll just start heaving you in the drink, starting with the little crying girl.” He chuckled at that, as though it were funny. “You’re going to love this, David,” said Mosley, as he filmed Frank helping Laurie and Tilly to their feet, and onto the side of the boat.
Laurie was now furthest away from Mosley, her body angled to hide the object she’d retrieved from her pocket. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, as Mosley stepped toward them, pulling out a hunting knife as he did so, before unceremoniously pushing Frank into the choppy water.
Tilly cried out and the old man’s startled yelp was abruptly cut off.
“Hope you’re a good swimmer, Dad,” Mosley called down to him, filming Frank as he bobbed and spluttered in the brackish, oily-looking surf.
“He won’t survive,” said Laurie.
“Well, duh. None of you will, and David will get to see it,” said Mosley, pocketing the phone then roughly cutting Tilly’s zip tie and sending her in after Frank. She disappeared without a sound.
“And now, finally, you, Detective.” Mosley grinned at her. “I guess you would have been my sister in a way?” he said, wrenching her around and cutting her zip tie.
“Don’t,” said Laurie, but she was already falling into the water.
Two years ago, she had completed a lifesaving course. The key, she knew, was not to panic. Laurie had managed to jam the object firmly back in her pocket before breaking the surface. A smiling Mosley was waiting for her, camera in hand.
Treading water, she saw that Frank was panicking, thrashing at the surface, while Tilly kept getting sucked beneath the water. “Tilly, move,” she said, swimming to Frank. “You must calm down,” she said to the man, as he struck out and pushed her beneath the waves.
“On your back,” she said to them both when she returned to the surface. “We can float. It’s saltwater,” she said, ignoring Mosley’s grinning face, which was almost close enough to touch.
After a panicked start, Tilly was now on her back, her breathing labored as she tried to keep afloat.
“Who will go first?” said Mosley, as Laurie continued trying to calm Frank, whose teeth were now madly chattering despite the warmth of the water.
“Come on, Frank, get on your back and use small movements to keep yourself afloat. Like this,” said Laurie, going onto her back to demonstrate. They couldn’t last long this way, but she needed Frank composed before she tried anything. “That’s it,” she said, as Frank began controlling his breathing and floated onto his back.
“This must be hard, seeing them go out this way,” said Mosley as Laurie fought her way into her back pocket and extracted what Tilly had passed along to her. She’d recognized the object the second she held it in her hand: a mini flare launcher. She’d used them on the same training course where she’d learned the lifesaving procedures. Pen-shaped, it was less powerful than a flare gun, but could send a flare a hundred and fifty feet in the air. Now Laurie had to decide whether she should fire the flare into the air or aim it straight at Mosley, still hovering over the edge of the boat, happily recording their last minutes.
The flare would alert Patrick and his colleagues if they happened to spot it, but at what cost? Mosley had a gun, and was close enough to get in three fatal shots before fleeing the area. Even if Mosley decided not to shoot them, any rescue attempt would probably take too long to be successful.
So, then. Decision made.
Weariness spread through Laurie’s body. Soon, exhaustion would take all of them down. She fumbled in her pocket, trying not to alert Mosley to her intentions. She would only get one opportunity. It was unlikely the flare would be fatal, but if it hit Mosley in the chest it could give her enough time to try to board the boat.
Arranging the mini flare launcher into the correct position, she found the trigger switch and prepared herself. Mosley had been focused primarily on Frank, no doubt—and probably correctly—figuring he’d be the first to go down.
She needed Mosley fully facing her to give her the broadest possible target.
“Let them back on the boat,” she yelled over the sound of the sea and wind. “It’s me you want to hurt, isn’t it? David doesn’t even speak to his father, and he doesn’t know Tilly.”
“It’s too late for that, but do keep fighting.”
It had worked: he’d shifted to face her. Laurie understood the rough childhood Mosley must have experienced. She hadn’t been able to check, but with Sadie’s parents passing away, it was likely that Mosley had been his mother’s primary caregiver for much of his childhood. That must have been tough, and she could understand his resentment, but the mind behind the brutal murders of Annie, Grace, and Maurice, and now this, had been twisted beyond comprehension. Not that it mattered. Three lives were at risk and she was justified in her actions. She floated closer to Mosley, smiled for the camera, raised the flare launcher, took aim and fired.
Mosley lifted his camera phone up so he could see her eyes. The flare hadn’t activated. “Good try, Laurie. David will be so proud,” he said, training the camera on her as if nothing had happened.