Bill was staring at her, and the blood had drained from his face.
“How many years have you been holding on to this terrible secret?” asked Kate. “You’ve kept it from Max. You kept it from Bev.”
“You have no proof. This is just you telling me what you think!” he cried. Bill picked up the gun, closed his eyes, and clutched it to his chest. Tears were running down his cheeks. He was quiet and still. Kate took a step closer, and so did Tristan, but Bill opened his eyes.
“Who are we talking to now: Bill or Nick?” asked Kate.
“It’s not like that,” said Bill, looking up at her. His voice was calm. “Nick was just a name I used when I met guys. I didn’t think about it back then. I didn’t want those guys to know my real name. It got out of control, and my two identities took on a life of their own.”
“Did Bill kill Joanna? Or did Nick kill her, like he did those young men?” asked Kate.
“Stop!” he shouted.
“I know it must have been frightening,” said Kate. “Out there in the dark. Sinking in the sand. With the tide rushing in . . . It plays on your mind, doesn’t it? That after all these years, Bev’s rusted car, with Joanna inside, will be exposed on the beach.”
“Why did you hire us to find Joanna?” asked Tristan.
“Bev,” he said quietly. “For Bev. I wanted closure. I thought you’d find nothing and we could draw a line under it all. I needed Bev to give up on Joanna. And leave it be.”
“Bev must know, deep down, that you killed Joanna,” said Tristan.
“You shut your mouth!” shouted Bill, slamming the gun repeatedly on the desk. “You can’t prove it. You can’t prove it!” he cried in a childlike singsong voice. His face was red and he was shaking.
“When we’re done here with you, Bill, I’m going to make sure the police search every inch of that fucking beach. They will find the car, and they will find Joanna’s body inside,” said Kate.
Her heart was now pounding, and her mouth was dry. Bill moved fast. He picked up one of the shells from the floor and loaded it into the gun. For a moment, Kate thought he was going to aim it at them and fire, but he closed the shotgun, turned it around in his hands, and put the barreled end in his mouth.
Tristan got around the desk just in time, knocking the gun from Bill’s mouth just as he pulled the trigger. The glass exploded in one of the cabinet doors behind Kate.
Bill and Tristan wrestled with the gun. They were the same height, but Tristan was stronger. Kate felt pain in her right arm, just below the shoulder, and she looked down and could see a spot of red expanding on the sleeve of her T-shirt.
Bill got the upper hand and shoved Tristan. He fell back against the bookshelves. Bill grabbed the other shell from the floor and ran out of the office with the gun. Tristan got up and saw Kate with the blood spreading from her arm.
“Kate. You’ve been hit!”
The pain was like a hot knife, but when she rolled up her sleeve, she could see there was a deep graze in her upper arm. “It’s a flesh wound,” she said, pressing her hand to it. “Go after him. Don’t let him use that bullet!” she shouted. “Go!” Tristan nodded and ran off after Bill.
Kate winced and reached into her bag. She found a thin black scarf and quickly tied it around the wound on her arm. She took some deep breaths and then grabbed her phone and called the police.
47
Tristan felt a huge gust of wind as sand blew into the hallway through the open door. He reached the door a moment later and ran outside. Bill was running barefoot down the sandy track toward the beach holding the shotgun.
Tristan started running after him. At the bottom of the track, Bill jumped over the low barrier where they’d parked the car and hit the sand, stumbling, but then he righted himself and carried on running.
Tristan gained on him and a moment later vaulted the low barrier. Bill was now running out across the sand toward the sea.
What is he doing? thought Tristan, as his feet hit the damp sand. It was harder to run on the sandy surface in his heavy trainers, but Bill was moving faster in bare feet. The wind was now screaming off the shore and blowing a layer of sand along the beach. It whipped around Tristan’s head, getting in his eyes and stinging his skin.
“Bill! Stop!” he shouted, but the wind took the words out of his mouth, and he choked on the sand. Bill ran toward a flock of seagulls huddled in a group, and they took flight, soaring above Tristan, cawing and screaming into the sky.