The Running Girls(85)

Chapter Fifty-One


Laurie’s body was shutting down. Ever since her ill-fated attempt to fire the flare at Mosley, her energy had dwindled. She’d spent the last few minutes offering encouragement to Tilly and Frank, but now it all seemed like wasted breath. She didn’t have long left and her thoughts turned to David and Milly.

She wasn’t religious, and the things she’d seen both personally and professionally meant she was unable to believe in some overseeing deity, at least not a compassionate one, but she still had hope that death would bring her closer in some unfathomable way to Milly.

For now, it was David she worried for. The last year had been hard, and had grown worse these last few weeks—the pressures of Frank returning, the death of Grace Harrington, and Laurie’s suspicions about Rebecca Whitehead making things so toxic between them that they almost hadn’t been together during the hurricane. She was pleased they’d finally managed to speak about Milly, but Laurie couldn’t imagine how David was going to cope going forward. If there was some sort of God, she prayed to him now that David would never get to see the video Mosley was recording. She wasn’t sure if watching it would be something he could ever recover from. But even that thought was hard to dwell on as exhaustion made every action a struggle. All she could hope was that David would forgive her for being so distant this last year.



Randall looked up at the clouds and wondered if he was dead. Although bone-weary, he could see that his hands and feet were making elaborate patterns in the choppy waters. It seemed like only yesterday he’d been on that Greyhound from Houston, returning to Galveston for the first time without Annie.

A fugue had crept over him in these last few weeks. A memory that had started to fade during his period inside was now warped. It played tricks on him and it was impossible to know what was real. Instinctively, he understood he was fighting for his life in the unforgiving water, but he wasn’t sure why. Maurice returning into his life had been a dream, one that had morphed into a nightmare, if his last memories of him were anything to go by. Could it really be that he had been killed in the same gruesome manner as Annie? And was the madman shouting nonsense from the boat really his son?

That last thought brought unwelcome clarity to Randall’s thoughts. His mind worked that way sometimes, and had rewarded him now with a perfect snapshot of what he’d done and why he was here.

Annie. Every time he thought of her now, she was walking away from him, gliding toward the gulf on the shore of which she was ultimately killed by his son. If only he could stretch through time, reach out and tell her not to go. But regrets were pointless. He’d made so many mistakes. If that man on the boat was truly his son, then in some ways Randall had to take the blame. He’d tried to help Sadie, and would have done more if he’d known about Mosley. He guessed he’d paid his penance for that particular mistake, whether it was his fault or not, but that was obviously not enough. This man, this monster, he had created hadn’t been satisfied with that, and Randall didn’t know what would ever appease him.

But no. He thought maybe he did know.

Maybe he deserved to die, but the others didn’t.

It was time to go.

Hopefully, watching him die would be enough for his son to show mercy on Laurie and the young woman. His energy was all but spent anyway, and the warm water felt welcoming, as if it were beckoning him toward Annie. He took one last breath and was about to sink beneath the waves when a piercing screeching sound, like metal on metal, stopped him.



Laurie didn’t realize until it happened—the violent, shrieking sound of the boat ramming against something lurking just beneath the surface of the water—how peaceful she’d been in those final moments. It was as if her acceptance of what was happening had switched everything off, and for the briefest moment she’d been one with the water.

That had all vanished the second the screeching-metal sound ripped the world in two. It felt like someone had jabbed her with a shot of adrenaline directly into her heart. Had she not been in the water, she would have leaped to her feet. As it was, she rolled onto her front in time to see Mosley launched, pinwheeling, from the boat and vanish under the water.

With no time to consider what had struck the vessel, she began swimming toward Mosley. “Get Frank to the boat,” she yelled to Tilly, then left her two companions fighting the water.

She’d marked the point where Mosley had disappeared below the surface and churned toward it.

With any luck, he’d been struck in his head when he’d fallen. Only now did she notice that the boat was tilted precariously, seemingly caught on something. She’d just sent Tilly and Frank toward it. But it didn’t appear to be taking on water, and making for it was their best, their only option.

Reaching the spot where Mosley had hit the water, Laurie treaded water in circles next to where he had gone under. Did he just sink to the bottom? Should she join Tilly and Frank at the boat? She fought to raise herself high enough from the water to locate them. There they were, swimming—toward her, not the boat—as though in slow motion.

She’d just decided to turn one more full revolution, had just mouthed “Where are you?”, when Mosley erupted to the surface right beside her, spluttering and coughing. Laurie wasted no time. It was hard to get any purchase in the water but she began raining blows down on the man. She didn’t know if he still had the gun but she didn’t care. Mosley had proved his strength before, and most of hers had faded during her time overboard. If she didn’t stop the fight before it started, then Mosley would have more than enough power to drown her and probably Frank and Tilly, too.