‘What the hell can we do? The door and window are both locked.’ Naomi stares at me, clearly desperate for answers. It feels like I’ve been on a three-day bender, even though my mouth tastes of paraffin instead of booze. My main focus is on the baby. Lottie is still lying in Naomi’s arms, her cries weaker than before.
‘Don’t give up, Naomi. You have to stay strong.’
‘I need an escape plan, not a pep talk.’ She gives me a dead-eyed stare. ‘I’m the toughest person you’ll meet, believe me. This beats lying underground with rats crawling over my skin.’
There’s anger in her voice, but her face is tender when she comforts the baby, all of her movements gentle. Naomi’s terror appears to have vanished. Her experiences must have numbed her senses.
‘Did anything else happen, around the time of Rogan’s murder?’ I ask.
‘A piece of stone arrived in the post, with old Cornish words scratched on it. I never found out who sent it.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’
She winces as she rubs the raw skin on her wrists. ‘I didn’t know it was important; I threw it away.’
‘Even though you knew Martin was learning the language?’
‘Don’t blame this on me. It’s not my fault.’
Her voice is rising to a shout and something about her reactions fuels my concern.
When my gaze drops to the floor, I see that the small object that dropped from her pocket is a key. My thoughts shift suddenly, like the wind changing direction. I have to catch my breath before speaking again.
‘I did some research into your background, Naomi. It sounds like your childhood was pretty rough.’
She clutches the baby closer to her chest. ‘People have had worse. I spent years in a kids’ home full of monsters and paedophiles, but I survived.’
‘You must have longed for a proper home.’
‘Of course.’ Her voice is strident with anger. ‘I thought I’d get one here, but it didn’t work out.’
Blood is pumping through my system, my head slowly clearing, yet I don’t move a muscle. ‘Martin’s got nothing to do with this. No one’s coming for us, are they?’
Naomi’s gaze flickers when she looks at me again.
‘You tied those ropes round your wrists. That’s why you could undo them so easily. It was you who put a brick through the Nickells’ window, and stole their child.’
‘That’s a mad thing to say.’
‘You wanted to frame Martin for killing Rogan. Your whole abduction, to get even. I bet it hurt like hell, wounding yourself. Did you run into a wall?’
‘How could I injure myself like this? I’d never do something that stupid.’
‘You took a man’s life and destroyed your own home to make your ex look guilty. It must have kept you busy, chasing round the island, setting flares.’
‘That’s rubbish.’
‘Your world’s fallen apart. Tolman rejected you, your sculptures are less popular than before. Buying that old mansion took all your money, didn’t it? I bet your finances are at rock bottom. This would give you a massive insurance pay out and put him behind bars.’
‘Shut up, for fuck’s sake.’
‘No one on St Agnes would hurt you or Alex Rogan. The islanders welcome visitors; without them, they wouldn’t survive. But it beats me how you dragged a grown man up the hill on Burnt Island.’
She gives a mocking laugh and her manner changes, pretences suddenly dropping away. ‘I didn’t have to force him, believe me.’
My breath catches in my throat; until now I’ve been following a hunch, but Naomi has just confirmed my theory. I hold my breath when she lays the baby down beside me. If I push too hard, Lottie will suffer worst. When Naomi grabs one of the paraffin cans, I barely have time to shut my eyes before liquid pours over me, saturating my hair, skin and clothes. Its burning tang makes my throat convulse.
‘Think of the baby, for Christ’s sake,’ I say, choking out the words.
‘Remember, I’ve got a lighter in my pocket.’ She delivers a hard kick to my ribs.
‘You’d never escape in time. Is that what you want, after seeing Rogan burn?’
‘We’d all have lived if you hadn’t guessed. I gave you just enough Rohypnol to put you out of action for a short time. You’d have recovered and I could have carried on with my work.’
‘You’ve left DNA evidence all over the island; they’d only need to fingerprint you to join all the dots. I want to know how Alex died.’
‘Shut up and let me think.’
I’m praying that Eddie has figured out I’m trapped on Gugh and has sent a rescue party. Naomi’s face is rigid with tension as she considers her options; she’s pulled her lighter from her pocket, gripping it in her hand.
‘You want the baby dead too?’
‘I’m not going to jail. I’ve spent enough time locked up in places where no one gives a damn.’
Lottie is gurgling quietly to herself, one small hand clutching the edge of her blanket. Her only chance of survival rests on me keeping Vine distracted.
‘Why not explain it to me, Naomi? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I don’t have to justify myself.’ She’s growing more agitated, running her thumb across the switch on her lighter.
‘At least put Lottie outside where Eddie can find her.’
‘She’s coming with me when I die. Her pure spirit will cancel out my mistakes.’ Her gaze goes out of focus, her injured face crumpling. ‘Martin wanted us to have a family, but I missed my chance.’
‘You could have found someone else.’
‘No one will honour my legacy now, because of you.’ She spits out the words, then lifts the lighter in the air, ready for us all to burn. I have to work hard to force a smile onto my face.
‘Not yet, Naomi. This is our last chance to talk.’
Vine’s hand hovers in the air, then she kneels beside me, her face inches from mine. I still lack the strength to lunge for the key, so I listen to her murmur, with a rising sense of horror. There’s glee in her tone as she describes the fire that ravaged Alex Rogan’s body.