The Island(16)

Owen shook off her hand. “Dad killed her, didn’t he? He killed her,” he said strangely, distantly, as if from the bottom of a well. Owen, like Olivia, was both older and younger than his years. He was twelve, sometimes going on fifteen, sometimes a scared little boy.

Heather walked back to Tom.

“How are the kids?” he asked.

“The kids are going to be OK. Look, you did your best. You braked. You honked the horn.”

“Yes,” Tom exclaimed. “Yes, I honked the horn. And this wasn’t the car that I wanted. I wanted the other one.”

“You did everything you could. This wasn’t our fault. I think we should go now. I think we should get in the car and get to the ferry as quickly as possible.”

Tom nodded.

“We’ll get the body off the road and drive to the ferry,” Heather said.

“We really shouldn’t do that. It’s a crime,” Tom said.

“I don’t think we have a choice. They’re scary people. They have guns. It’s all one family. Do you trust them to call the cops?”

He thought about it. “I can see what you’re…but this is a huge decision,” Tom said. She noticed that the sweat was pouring off him. And the graze on his forehead was bleeding.

“You know what? It’s my fault, Tom. I’m making the decision,” Heather said. “You banged your head. This is my call, OK? You don’t have to think about any of this right now. All you have to do is help me get the body off the road. We’re going to put her in that long grass over there.”

“You want us to actually move her?”

“We have to. You’re going to take her by the ankles and we’re going to put her in the grass. OK?”

Tom got down on his knees and bent back the woman’s legs. They made a grotesque cracking noise that chilled the blood. Tom lifted the woman’s ankles, and Heather picked her up by the shoulders. Sticky warm blood oozed between her fingers. And now the flies were beginning to congregate en masse. They landed on Heather’s hands and arms and on the dead woman’s face.

“Are you sure about this?” Tom asked. “You don’t ever move a body. I remember when I found Judith…those stairs…I didn’t want the kids to think she’d done it on purpose. I wanted to change things. Hide the glass, hide the whiskey bottle. But I had to leave everything the way I found it…we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We’ve already moved her. It’s too late now. Just go a few steps back. It’s easy. Please, Tom, do it now, I can’t hold her forever! Go!”

Tom began backing up toward the heath.

“That’s it, over the ditch and into the grass.”

Getting over the ditch was tricky but they managed it. They laid the woman down in the long, white dry grass. “Now the bike,” Heather said.

They dragged the front wheel of the bike from under the back tire of the Porsche. They carried the wrecked bike into the grass and hid it too. Heather adjusted some of the kangaroo grass stems, making them vertical again to hide their trail.

She ran back to the road and threw the bigger fragments of the bicycle into the grass. There was blood and smaller bike parts, but they couldn’t do anything about that. Heather closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them and tried to find where they had hidden the body in the heath. You couldn’t see a thing. Especially from a moving car.

She wiped the blood from her hands onto the blanket as best as she could. She wiped Tom’s hands and forehead. Their fingernails were filthy and they smelled putrid. Blackflies and mosquitoes were landing on them with impunity.

“OK, now we just have to get out of here,” Heather said as calmly as she could while putting the blanket back in the trunk of the Porsche. “Kids, I need you to help your dad push the car out of the ditch,” she said, leading them to the back of the car.

“What happened to that lady?” Olivia said.

“We’re moving her out of the sun and then we’re going to call the police,” Heather said.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Heather?” Olivia asked. “Shouldn’t we get an ambulance or something?”

“Yes, we’ll get an ambulance later, Olivia,” Heather said. “We just need to get the car going. Tom, please come here and show the kids what to do. I’ll drive.”

“I should drive,” Tom said.

“No, I’m lighter than you and you’re stronger than me. You push and I’ll drive.”

“That makes sense,” he said.

Heather walked along the ditch and got in the driver’s side. She adjusted the rearview and caught a glimpse of her own face.

Where had this Heather come from? Had this Heather been lurking there the whole time? Was it just because Tom was concussed and she had to step up, or was this always part of her? Adrenaline was some of it. When that wore off, she’d probably become a wreck.

She engaged the traction control and switched it to low gear mode. Her old Honda was a manual and she was comfortable with clutch and stick. This wouldn’t be difficult. She hit the ignition button and the Porsche started.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tom said.

“Push!” she yelled and applied pressure to the gas pedal.