Michael ran to him and grabbed the rifle. Sinclair followed him. Michael handed him the rifle, then patted down Gibson and found a pistol and a wicked-looking knife. The man had come prepared for anything.
Isabel stayed by the car. She was actually relieved she hadn’t killed Gibson when she hit him.
Holding his wounded arm, he was writhing on the ground and wailing, but she didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for him. He had tried to kill all three of them. He deserved to be in pain.
Just as Michael and Sinclair pulled Gibson to his feet, Danny and another officer came running up the hill.
Isabel rushed over to him. “Danny, has anyone found Freya Harcus?’ she asked.
“Two officers are looking for her.”
A couple of minutes later, Gibson was in Danny’s police car and heading back down the mountain.
Sinclair watched the car disappear down the steep road, then turned to Isabel. “Did you push Freya out of the car, or did she jump?”
Isabel was still so angry with Freya, she was sorry she hadn’t pushed her. “She jumped out,” she said. “It happened so fast. One second she was there, and the next she was gone. She was screaming at me and hitting me, and when I was driving around a sharp curve, she opened the door and jumped.
She was in such a hurry she left her gun on the seat. She had been jabbing it in my side . . . and she didn’t have the safety on.”
Michael shook his head, imagining the worst. “You could have been killed.”
Isabel was so relieved to have Michael next to her, tears came to her eyes. She didn’t want to be needy, and she usually wasn’t, but after the ordeal she had just gone through, she was feeling vulnerable.
“It was Freya all along,” Isabel told them.
“What?” Michael asked, still trying to sort out all that had just happened.
“She’s the one who planned to have me killed. It wasn’t Clive. She told me she and MacCarthy plotted the whole thing.”
“If Freya is alive, she’s going to be spending the rest of her life in prison,” Sinclair said.
“She painted that freaky clown hanging in MacCarthy’s office, and that should tell you everything you need to know about her.”
“That was some fancy driving, Isabel,” Sinclair praised.
“Fancy?”
“Driving like a race car driver, zooming in and out of traffic lanes to get other drivers to call the police. That was very clever of you.”
From Isabel’s puzzled expression, Sinclair realized she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Now he looked puzzled. “It was on purpose, wasn’t it?”
The inspector’s phone rang, saving her from attempting to explain how difficult it had been to drive a car where the steering wheel was on the wrong side. Trying to stay in the correct lane turned out to be a whole other challenge.
Sinclair finished the call and said, “Freya is crawling up the hill. According to Danny, she went into the water, pulled herself out, and is soaked through. She’s howling and cursing you, Isabel.”
Isabel was exhausted and ready to leave. “Where is your car?” she asked Michael.
“Back at the station.”
“I’ll drive you back,” Sinclair said.
“I left the keys in Freya’s car.”
Sinclair nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”
The three of them drove down the steep road but were stopped midway. Danny’s car blocked them from going any farther. He was out of the car and looking down at the bottom of the hill where Freya stood with two officers on either side of her. They were offering assistance, but she was having none of it. Lashing out at them, she cursed and tried to jerk her arms free of their grasp.
She really was a mess. Her thick eyeliner had dripped black lines down her cheeks, and her hair was standing on end. When she looked up and spotted Isabel, her obscenities intensified.
“She kinda looks like the clown she painted, doesn’t she?” Michael remarked.
Isabel couldn’t resist. Wanting to let Freya know that Gibson hadn’t succeeded—that she was alive and well—she took a step forward, waited until Freya looked at her again, and then waved.
Another round of profanity followed her gesture.
Unfazed by the onslaught of insults, Isabel merely smiled and said, “Shall we go?”
THIRTY-SEVEN
MICHAEL AND ISABEL WATCHED THE INTERROGATION. DANNY HAD SET UP THE MONITOR IN
the adjoining office and had pulled up two chairs for them to sit while the inspector questioned Freya.