His voice was wary. ‘I didn’t have a chance. When did I see you alone?’ He took her hand and squeezed it. It felt different to before. Unfamiliar. Unwelcoming. He still wanted this, didn’t he?
‘I know. I just thought maybe you could’ve confirmed it. It’s been on my mind. I appreciate all you’ve done sorting it out. I’m just a bit antsy.’
‘Look, I deal with this stuff all the time. My clients are billionaires, and even they get funny on transfer days. Our fund . . .’ He paused. ‘。 . . your fund . . . it’s a drop in the ocean. It’s a minnow in a sea of sharks. It’ll be there, and as soon as we get back to the car and get both of our phones, we’ll confirm that it’s gone into your account. OK?’
She nodded. ‘Sure. It’s fine. I trust you.’ Problem was, she wasn’t sure that she really did. Not completely. She’d trusted Paul completely, and that had turned out to be a big mistake. Trust was a bit of a minefield, really. She had no doubt that her parents – despite their ill-advised will change – had trusted Ginny to do the right thing. And of course, Ginny being Ginny, she had not. But Ginny never did anything by herself. She always relied on others to do the difficult thinking for her.
Cat took a deep breath, and kept walking.
Tristan let go of her hand and walked on ahead, just a little. She upped her speed, wanting to keep close behind him and the torch beam that was their only hope of making it through these trees.
‘There!’ He stopped walking, and she almost crashed into his back. ‘See it? It’s got a pale-green door. You can just make it out.’ He shone the torch ahead. Started walking again.
She did see it. And as they got closer, she could see more of the whole thing. A shelter, he’d told her. Somewhere safe to spend the night. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.
He took her hand again and dragged her towards the house. Well, what was left of it. An old crumbling brick structure with broken windows. The pale-green door was battered, and half covered in moss. The stone of the building was black in places, where damp had seeped in. The rest of it was covered in ivy and other climbing things that burrowed their way in through the gaps in the brickwork. The forest was clinging on, making it part of its own. If you were to google ‘horror cottage in the woods’ or ‘serial killer’s lair’， this place would be in the top five hits.
Her stomach churned and she felt ridiculously cold all of a sudden. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to soothe her stomach and fend off the chill. The sound of the waterfall was louder now, but she still couldn’t see it – although she assumed it was the reason for the dip in temperature.
‘We made it.’ He turned around and hugged her. ‘I knew we would.’ He pulled back. ‘Jesus, you’re freezing. Best get ourselves inside.’
She looked at him, quite amazed with how pleased he looked with himself. ‘It’s a bit . . . basic.’
He laughed in her face. ‘Are you fucking serious right now? You sound like your stupid little sister. Basic? It’s an abandoned house up a mountain. In case you’d forgotten, we’re stuck up here until the morning. Do you know how much research I had to do to find this place without actually flying over and searching the place myself? So many goddamn hiking and mountaineering forums, having to chat to all those boring freaks who wanted to tell me about the route when all I wanted to know was “where can I kill someone and make it look like an accident” and “where can I spend the night to get my story straight”。’ He shook his head. ‘You have no idea, Cat. No idea.’
She swallowed. Took a moment before replying to make sure she didn’t say something she might regret. They were meant to be in this together, but it felt like he was turning on her. ‘I don’t like your tone.’
His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment she thought he might hit her. Then his shoulders dropped, and his face softened. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled her close, nuzzled her neck. ‘I’m a bit wound up. Let’s just get inside, shall we?’
He stepped away from her again and directed the torch towards the building. Then he made his way through the overgrown vegetation that had sprouted all along what was once the path to the house. She followed. No matter what he did, she didn’t want to be too far from him. She knew her own mood was up and down, the same as his. The aggression was just his way of dealing with it. He shone the torch on the door, rattled the handle. She’d been expecting it to be locked, but it was just a bit loose. He yanked the handle to the right, and the door opened with a creak.