‘That was a lovely meal,’ Anna said as she sank into a comfy leather sofa.
Mitchell put two cups on the coffee table and sat down beside her. She looked surprised at his proximity, but recovered quickly, although not quickly enough.
He pointed to an armchair. ‘Would you like me to sit over there?’
She shook her head. ‘No, no, you’re fine.’
He sighed contentedly. So far so good. ‘I’m getting to like this barbecue habit.’
She picked up a cup. ‘Didn’t you grow up with barbecue in Texas? I thought all they ate was beef.’
‘Not where I come from. We lived in the city and my daddy didn’t know many cattle ranchers. We ate in restaurants.’
‘Which city?’
‘Austin.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Commercial banking. What did your daddy do?’
She paused. ‘He was a doctor, a GP.’
‘Noble profession.’
‘Oh, he was anything but noble. He ran off with his nurse when I was four. I have three brothers and three half-sisters. Waste of space, all of them.’
He laughed. ‘You’re so direct.’
‘You mean blunt – sorry. What was he like, your daddy?’
Mitchell gave a small grimace. ‘To tell you the truth, he was a devoted churchgoer and a moral man, and he wouldn’t approve of what I’m about to do.’
Before she could answer, he put his finger on her chin and turned her face towards him. Then he leaned across, took the cup and kissed her on the lips.
For a second he felt her responding, then she raised her arms and pushed him back. He wasn’t expecting that, and he fell sideways into the sofa, spilling the coffee.
She stood up. ‘I’m very flattered, Mitchell. But I can’t allow this to go any further.’ Her colour was high, and she looked flustered.
‘I’m so sorry, Charlotte.’
She was looking around for her handbag.
He stood up and took her hands in his. ‘I just thought, with Michael away … Actually, I wasn’t think–’ He tried to kiss her again but she pulled back and slapped him.
‘Stop it! I’m not playing games. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I could never hurt Michael.’
She had seen her handbag on the seat. He rubbed his face, stepped in her way and locked eyes with her. He saw the shock cross her face as his smile faded. Finally, he let the hatred and repulsion shine from his eyes. It was decision time. The bitch wasn’t up for an affair, so what was he going to do? Stick to the plan or abandon it and revert to his true nature? She was at his mercy. Which would hurt Vinnie Whitney-Ross more?
‘I … I need to go. Let me go.’ Her anger had dissolved, and her voice sounded small and fearful.
He raised his arm to strike and she shrank back. Then, just as suddenly, he moved sideways and she darted to the chair and grabbed her handbag. In four strides she was at the ranch slider and had pulled it open.
He needed to keep up appearances, and it took him two strides. ‘Charlotte.’
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She was obviously shocked to find him so close and her fist flew up. He blocked the punch with his forearm and whacked her hard across the face.
She staggered back. ‘Leave me alone!’
The cry followed her out the door and into the night. She didn’t look back, and he could hear her footsteps down the deck. He smiled. This felt right. The stage was too big for a private tragedy. This revenge demanded a Shakespearian ending.
Anna stumbled as she ran down the beach, her shoes in one hand and handbag in the other. The moon was bright and she had no trouble finding her way. Her breath came in rough pants, almost sobs, and yet she didn’t feel ready to cry. Her brain was churning. Who the hell was that man and what had just happened? What had she seen in his face? He had looked as though he wanted to kill her.
A noise to her right caught her attention, and she pulled up to a stop. ‘Hello?’
There was no response.
‘Who’s there?’ she called out.
Her gut instinct told her that eyes were watching her. For the first time in months, she felt a wave of real fear. The same kind of paralysing terror that had flooded her when Norman Lane had stepped out of the shadows and put a gun to her head.
Someone was up on the lawn, out of sight, observing her, following her. She broke into a run and ran as fast as she could all the way to her own deck, fumbled with the lock on the door and pulled it open, then slammed it shut and locked it after her.
Tipping the contents of her handbag out onto the floor, she grabbed her cell phone. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly press the buttons.
The phone rang twice and then clicked over to voicemail. ‘You’ve reached the phone of Michael Wilson from Aunt Muriel’s Magnificent Chocolate Masterpieces. I can’t take your call at present, but please leave your number and name and a brief message after the tone, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks for the call.’
She shook her head with impatience, and as soon as the tone sounded she yelled into the phone: ‘Vinnie, call me! As soon as you can.’
Vinnie had decided he should be at home and had driven through the night. He needed the music playing loud to keep him awake, and so didn’t hear his phone ring. He turned into his driveway at three in the morning, yawning.
It was a full moon, and he could still see the outlines of the house and the shed once he turned off the headlights. The surf crashed in the background, the ever-present soundtrack to their lives. Mary and Anna would be asleep, and he wouldn’t tell them what he suspected until the morning. Anna would want to know if they were going to move again, and so he had rehearsed his answer. It might be nothing but, if anyone was coming, it was time to stand and fight.
Instead of going straight to the house, he walked down the side of it, between the house and the shed, and stood looking out at the moonlight glinting on the sea. Could it be Melissa Lane? What were the chances? Should he call Peter Harper and tell him? Would Peter think he was overreacting? A small part of him was glad that it had happened – this was the last one, and this time, when it was over, it would be over.
Inside the house, Anna lay asleep on the sofa, still fully dressed. There was a carving knife on the coffee table beside her. The sound of the car engine didn’t penetrate her consciousness, but the door slamming did. Her eyes opened and she held her breath. Was it Vinnie? Had she slept through his call? Surely no one else would bring a car and risk being heard? Mary was in the house. Her fear was real, and she could feel it deep in her bowels. Eventually she forced herself to pick up the knife, get to her feet and cross the floor to the folding doors.
Vinnie grabbed the door handle at the same time she did and his face appeared out of the night. Relief engulfed her.
He unlocked the door and she threw herself into his arms.
‘Hey!’ he exclaimed as he caught her. ‘What’s this?’
He took the knife from her grasp.
‘Vinnie, I was so scared! Did you get my message?’
He led her over to the sofa and they sat down.
‘Nope, I must’ve had the music up too loud to hear the phone. For goodness sake, what’s happened?’ He raised her face and studied the bruise and the swelling around her eye socket. ‘Anna? Who hit you?’
Suddenly the strange events of the evening, combined with her relief at having him back, became too much for her and she burst into tears.