‘Who knows?’ says Moira, turning towards the door. This isn’t the time for analysing the finer details. They’ve got a strong lead, and he could be a flight risk. ‘Come on, we’ve got to find Donald fast.’
47
MOIRA
Lizzie drives. Moira calls Rick. She wills him to answer, but after four rings it goes to voicemail. After the beep she leaves a message. ‘It’s Donald Ettwood – he’s the burglar and the victim knew it. She had proof and was blackmailing him. They’d arranged to meet at the pool the night she died. Me and Lizzie are heading to Donald’s place now.’
‘We should call the cops,’ says Lizzie, taking a right into Donald’s street.
‘There’s no time,’ says Moira. She’s scanning the road up ahead. Looking for Donald’s place to come into view. ‘What number is he?’
‘Forty-two.’ Lizzie accelerates harder. ‘Should be coming up on our right any moment.’
Moira sees the number on the mailbox up ahead. She sees a truck – an old Chevy – is parked nose out in his driveway. The truck’s windows are open and there’s a load of things in the flatbed – packing boxes of computer equipment, a gaming chair and a huge widescreen TV. There’s a suitcase on the paving beside the truck, and the front door is open – more packing boxes are stacked up just inside the hallway.
‘He’s running,’ says Moira, undoing her seat belt and grabbing for the door handle. ‘We’ve got to stop him.’
Lizzie slows the car and peers towards the house. ‘Let me pull over before you—’
‘There he is. That’s the man in the photo.’ Moira feels adrenaline fire in her belly.
‘That’s Donald,’ confirms Lizzie.
He’s coming out of the house, carrying a stack of boxes. They’re piled high, and so partially obscuring his view of the street. Moira knows she needs to act now, before he sees them and gets spooked.
‘Stop now,’ she says to Lizzie, yanking hard on the door release.
Lizzie stamps on the brake. The tyres squeal as the car skids to a stop. Moira leaps out. As she does so she sees another vehicle approaching along the street. It’s Rick’s jeep. She looks back at Donald.
He sees her. There’s a moment as their eyes meet where it seems like they’re both frozen. She knows those eyes. Remembers them looking down at her from the wall as he whacked her with the hard drive. Donald Ettwood is the man she saw on the Wild Ridge Trail, and at the CCTV office; he attacked Hank and he attacked her. And she can tell from the look on his face that he recognises her. Bastard.
Moira breaks into a run. Donald drops the boxes and starts moving. He cuts left, away from her and the road, and loops out across the neighbour’s lawn.
‘Call the cops!’ Moira yells at Lizzie. Back on the road she sees Rick’s already out of the jeep and running her way. She sprints after Donald. Can’t wait for Rick. Donald can’t get away from her – not again.
Moira pumps her arms and legs hard, trying to ignore the pain in her ankle. They race across the neighbour’s lawn and out on to the street. Donald ducks down a side street and she follows. Damn, he’s fast. She can’t keep pace. With every stride he’s getting further away.
He weaves between a few parked cars and disappears down an alleyway between a couple of three-storey apartment buildings. As she reaches the corner into the alleyway she feels the asphalt shift beneath her foot, tipping her bad ankle over. Pain shoots through her leg, but she grits her teeth and pushes herself faster.
She’s limping now. Still running, but not so fast. Up ahead Donald’s put more ground between them. She curses under her breath and tries to lengthen her stride, but her ankle isn’t helping.