It was strange to think that conversation – how many years ago now? – had planted the seed in her mind that was on the cusp of germinating now.
Jess checked the time on her watch. She was now the last person left in the spotless cabin. If everything was running according to schedule, everyone should be at lunch now. She inspected the drinks cabinet. She inspected the fridge. She tested the pillows with her hand, smoothed the ironed-in creases. She adjusted the lighting slightly, rechecked the room temperature and allowed herself a little rush of excitement. It was hard not to feel excited, the way things seemed to be falling into place.
From one of her pockets she removed the plastic sachet into which earlier that morning she had ground not just the sleeping pills she had taken from Kyra Highway’s room, but the various – and numerous – tablets and capsules she had obtained before coming to the island. Combined, they had produced a surprising amount of white powder, but it was a new bottle of Midleton and there was more than enough whiskey to dissolve it all.
Only as the last spinning crystalline crumbs in the bottom of the decanter vanished and her vision began going spotty did Jess realize she had been holding her breath.
Oh God, she found herself thinking, her mood suddenly wilting, this is not going to work, this is never going to work. Not in real life. Not a chance. Even with all the research she had done, the trouble she had gone to, getting hold of everything, all this planning. Jackson would notice something off, the first sip he tasted. He might be in the mood tonight for the rum or the champagne. Would it be too obvious to set out a whiskey glass next to the decanter? To put both on a little tray next to the bed?
At the sound of footsteps on the cabin porch, Jess started with such force that her feet literally jumped in her shoes. He was back. Jackson Crane was here, scratching at the door of the cabin with his key, mumbling and muttering to himself as he did so, breathing so heavily through his nose that she could hear it all the way from where she was standing.
Finally, after several minutes, he managed to get his key into the lock and turn it – and, apparently surprised at how easily the door swung open, advanced into the room with a three-step stumble. If he was shocked to find his cabin restored to its former pristine condition, he did not show it. If he was surprised to find one of the housekeeping team standing with a weird nervous smile on their face in the corner of his room, he gave no sign.
The first thing Jackson Crane did was to try to turn the lights on despite the fact they were already on. Only as he was looking for the light switch did he realize he had left the front door open with the key still hanging from it. Only after he had managed to slam the door – on his second attempt, after experiencing considerable difficulty extricating the key – and missed by about three feet when endeavouring to toss the key into a bowl on the table, and stumbled on the lip of the carpet, and bashed the coffee table out of the way with his shin without even noticing, did he finally acknowledge Jess’s presence.
‘Hnnh,’ he said.
Even from here Jess could smell his breath.
It was him. It was him. It was him.
Jackson Crane squinted at her, attempted a smile, took a couple of sudden unexpected steps sideways, then steadied himself. And for a second, the years dropped away and Jess found herself staring into his eyes, and he was staring into her eyes, and his brow furrowed, and for a moment she found herself wondering if he had recognized her.
Looking down at her hands, which seemed somehow a long way away, Jess realized she was still holding a glass and the whiskey. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said, her gaze abruptly lowered, her voice husky in her ears. ‘May I offer you . . . ?’
It was the decanter he took, grabbing it and twisting the stopper and chucking it onto the sofa and necking at least a fifth of the liquid before he even paused for breath. Then he wiped his lips with his fingers, a sort of pinching gesture.
And for a moment, just a moment, as he passed her, Jess could feel his appraising gaze sweep over her, his eyes pausing fleetingly on her chest, his interest briefly flickering – and then switching off again as his brain ruled the possibility out, as she stopped being a potential person of interest and reverted to being something else, like furniture.