I didn’t walk to the gate, like my dad wanted. Of course I didn’t. That would have made me a pawn in Michael’s chess game, when in fact it’s me who’s been playing him this whole time.
Michael is a good tactician but I’m better. I’ve been pulling Michael’s strings, putting him where I want him.
Now I’m one move away from checkmate.
They say chess is about thinking many moves ahead. But to me, the most important part is analysing your opponent, working out what kind of player they are.
Michael is the ‘win at all costs’ kind of player. He doesn’t care if he breaks the rules, as long as no one sees him do it. As soon as I worked that out, things were simple. Make Michael feel like he’s winning and he’ll move into the right places.
I watch Michael from my crouched position, one of his shotguns on my lap, hidden behind the cottage. Skywalker sits beside me, ears pricked and alert.
Guess what, Dad? I am not a dumb, scared little teen desperate for a record contract. My dog isn’t really sick. And you’re not the only one who can act.
‘Well done, boy,’ I whisper, stroking Skywalker’s silky head. ‘If there were acting awards for playing dead, you’d win an Oscar.’
Skywalker watches Michael, ears fierce, body primed.
‘Not yet. Just a little longer, okay?’ I grab Skywalker’s collar, hand tense and controlled. Poor boy, he’s desperate to run around after playing dead for so long. But not yet.
Skywalker and I have been practising the ‘dead weight’ command for over a year. When I say ‘dead weight’, Skywalker plays dead until I tell him to stop. It’s taken months of training.
I watch Michael go to the gate. I can’t see his face, but I can picture it: lips tight, blank eyes twitching. He’ll be furious.
Where is Liberty? She should be at the gate … Where’d she go?
Oh Michael, Michael.
I did warn you I never lose. That chess game we played? I beat you twenty different ways in my head. But I let you win on the board because this is about the big game. The game my mother lost. The ‘tell the world who Michael Reyji Ray really is’ game.
Michael is looking around the railings now, probably wondering if I’ve climbed them with a dead dog on my shoulder.
‘I have to give him credit,’ I tell Skywalker. ‘The birthday cake in the freezer was clever. He’s a quick thinker. But every slice looked the same. If it was from different years, some pieces would look older than others.’
Skywalker makes a noise and I clamp his mouth closed. ‘Not yet,’ I whisper. ‘Just wait. Nearly time.’
Skywalker has been key to winning this game. Yesterday he sniffed out human remains in Michael’s woodlands and found the gun shed – both important moves. I’ve trained Skywalker to be a cadaver dog. That means he can smell human remains, even from sixteen years ago. Some of the remains in Michael’s woodlands will belong to Cat Cannon’s missing daughter. The other sites – there were three in total – I have no idea. I geotagged the locations, anyway. The police can dig them up and examine the DNA.
‘Okay,’ I say, standing. ‘Stay, Skywalker. Stay right there.’
Skywalker drops to the floor, watching me.
Perfect.
I stumble onto the woodland path, breathless, frantic, the grade-A drama student.
‘Dad!’
Michael sees me through the trees and freezes. Surprise crosses his puffy little face. He jogs towards me, but slows to a huffing walk when he sees the shotgun under my arm.
‘Liberty,’ he says. ‘Where’d you get that gun from?’
‘Your gun shed. I smashed the lock off.’
‘Let’s not be silly. Why didn’t you go to the gate, love? You need to get your doggy to a vet, don’t you? Where’s your doggy? Give it to me, let’s not be silly now.’
‘I couldn’t leave,’ I say. ‘Not without knowing what happened to my real mother. Where her body is buried.’ My words are stumbly and tearful. I’m a good actress, if I do say so myself. ‘And … and I’ll shoot you if you don’t tell me.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ says Michael. ‘Your real mother is dead. Okay? A real tragedy. Come on now. Go to the gate.’
Of course he wants me to go to the gate. There’s a camera at the gate. Michael needs CCTV footage of me appearing to leave. That way, if the police ever ask about me being here, he can show them evidence that I left willingly.
‘I need to know the truth,’ I say, making the words choked and frightened. ‘Did Annalise die here? Is this where she’s buried?’
‘If I tell you, will you go to the gate?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. You’re right. Annalise died in these grounds.’
‘And you buried her in the woods?’
Michael hesitates.
‘You must have done,’ I say. ‘Where else would her body be?’
‘Okay, Liberty. Yes, I buried her in the woods. And I’ll do the same to you if you don’t do as you’re told.’
‘Skywalker,’ I click my fingers. ‘Here boy.’
Skywalker trots to my side.
Michael takes a big, surprised breath. ‘Your dog. He’s … he’s up and about, is he?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I say. ‘He’s fine. So listen. I’ve got a deal for you.’
‘A deal?’ Michael’s black eyes glimmer. ‘What are you talking about, a deal? Go to the gate. And give me that bloody gun, for goodness sake. You’ll hurt yourself.’
‘This is the deal.’ I take out my phone from my denim shorts pocket.
‘Where did you get that phone from?’ says Michael. ‘Did your mother—’
‘I’ve had my phone the whole time,’ I tell Michael. ‘I’m calling the police now. I’m going to tell them that you held me captive and that there are human remains in your woodlands. Which my dog sniffed out. But before that, give me the key to the turret room so I can let my mother out.’
‘Liberty.’ Michael’s face goes rigid. ‘Give me that phone. Right now.’
I press the button to wake the screen.
Predictably, Michael lunges for me.
Skywalker leaps forward, snapping and barking. He’s not so cowardly after all. I told a white lie about that. Actually, the police let him go because he was too aggressive and bit an old lady carrying a bag full of fireworks. Also, I’ve been attack-training him for months with a bite sleeve and a mannequin in black jeans and sunglasses.
To Michael’s credit, he only looks frightened for a moment. Then he steps back and reconsiders his position.
‘Give me the gun, Liberty.’
‘Give me the key, Michael.’
‘You’re not going to shoot me, so just hand it over.’
‘I will shoot you.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Michael walks right up to me, planting his chest at the end of the barrel. ‘You’d feel too guilty. It’d tear you up.’
‘Pretty much the opposite of you then.’
‘You were the closest thing I came to feeling anything. Did you know that? The day you were born … I understood, just for a moment. What it was like to feel like everyone else does. It was awful. Horrible. Like torture.’ His mouth moves in that odd way of his. ‘So you can understand. I’m in no hurry to connect with that part of myself again. But I don’t wish you dead, Liberty. You’re a part of me and I want you to live on.’
‘I don’t want to be a part of you,’ I say.
‘I know that, Liberty. I never had any more children, did I? You have to say that for me. Give me the gun now. We can still make this right. If you pull that trigger, you’ll create a legend. A rock star scrubbed out by the daughter of a crazed groupie. And then do you know what will happen? The whole world will tear you and your mother to shreds.’
Michael grabs the barrel and pulls the whole gun from my hands.
‘Get back,’ he shouts, eyes dark and furious. ‘Get back. Get back or I’ll shoot the damn thing. Now I’m telling you, Liberty. Walk to the gate.’
‘You won’t shoot. You’re on camera.’
Michael stiffens. ‘No, love. The gate camera can’t see us from here.’
‘Smile.’ I put a hand to the smiley face on my T-shirt. ‘You’re being live streamed. The whole world can see you, Michael Reyji Ray. As you really are. Mask off. This badge is a camera. That’s the thing about image, isn’t it? One bad picture and it’s all over.’
Michael’s face contorts with rage. He is a man on the edge. He has nothing to lose. He takes aim and pulls the trigger.