“Where’s Mattie? He was here. I found a poncho—”
Ellis grinned, smug, as she held him on the ground. “Mattie’s in the water, too. He’s been there for a while. You needed a killer. I needed an end to your scrutiny. I needed to give my brother a reason to take my house off the market. The murderous yardman, the publicity—no way would Jason find a buyer. And Grace. It wasn’t easy, Abigail, to sacrifice my own niece, but I had to. For all our sakes, we needed a killer.”
And in Ellis’s twisted logic, Mattie was there. Again. “How long has Mattie been in the water?”
“Too long. If he’s still alive, he won’t last. Linc won’t be able to save him. He’s not a strong swimmer. The water’s cold. The waves are brutal.”
“You could have saved Doe.”
“I did save her. That’s what you’ll never understand.”
“Chris didn’t go down to the water to find Mattie or Linc. He went down there to find you. He knew about your obsession.”
“He’d seen Doe’s room.”
Her room. Abigail looked into the eyes of the man who’d let a fourteen-year-old girl drown. The man who’d murdered her husband.
“You make me sick.”
He tried to reach for her throat with his good hand, but she smashed his head against the rock. He went slack, unconscious. She checked him for hidden weapons, then scrambled to her feet and looked over the edge of the cliffs.
A huge swell took Linc against the rocks to her left, but he grabbed one with both arms and held on.
Directly below her, she caught a glimpse of Mattie right before a wave took him under. He didn’t fight it. If he was conscious, he clearly had no strength left in him.
If she didn’t act now, he’d drown or smash his body on the rocks.
The water was deep. She was a good swimmer.
Owen would have missed her by now. He had to be on his way. All she had to do was get to Mattie and stabilize the situation.
Abigail couldn’t just let him die.
She jumped.
No one was at the cliffs when Owen arrived. Dead branches clicked and cracked in the strong west wind that blew hot through the trees. Dark clouds had moved over the island, a storm imminent. He noticed tufts of wild grass that had been trampled.
He knelt down, saw a smear of blood on exposed ledge.
He heard a sound in the trees behind him.
Ellis staggered out from under a low fir branch on his walking stick. “There’s nothing we can do. Abigail’s in the water.” He spoke rapidly, blood pouring down the right side of his head. “She jumped in to save Linc. Mattie—he was out of control. He pushed Linc into the water. He was about to push me, but I had my walking stick. I got to him first. They’re all down there now. Abigail, Mattie, Linc.”
Owen stood up. “How did you bloody your head, Ellis?”
“What? Oh, this.” He wiped his fingers through the blood. “It’s nothing.”
“Abigail smashed your head on this rock, didn’t she?”
He seemed confused. Snot dripped out of his nose. Sweat beaded on his forehead and darkened his armpits. “It’s your fault. She wouldn’t have slipped…”
“I don’t have time for this.”
Owen heard someone on the trail coming in from the road. The FBI agents, Lou, Doyle—it didn’t matter. He needed to deal with Ellis and get to the people in the water.
Ellis lifted his walking stick, blood dripping into his right eye. “Move away from the cliffs. I want them to drown before you can rescue them. Just as your sister did.”
In two steps, Owen was at him. He snatched the walking stick and tossed it aside, just as Doyle and Lou arrived, guns drawn.
“It’s his fault,” Ellis screamed. “It’s all Owen’s fault!”
Owen ignored him and looked at the two police officers. “I need to get in the water.”
Abigail had never been so damn cold in her life. She huddled with Mattie in the cold water, the waves pushing them against the sheer rock face of the cliffs. His thin frame was limp from the battering it had taken from the rocks and water. His teeth chattered. He tried to speak, but his words were slurred. She recognized the signs of hypothermia and knew she’d be feeling them herself before too long.
Across the small horseshoe cove formed by the cliffs, Linc Cooper had managed to secure himself on a rectangular boulder just under water, but the waves continued to pound him. With the cold, he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
And Abigail knew neither would she.
Without help, they’d never last through high tide. The isolated cove wasn’t easily visible to passing boats. The gusts of wind and the crash of waves would keep them from hearing any screams for help. And there’d be no kayakers out in these swells.
“Pretend you’re in a hot bath,” she whispered to Mattie. “Think about sitting by Owen’s woodstove.”
“I…deserve to die.”