Little pieces start to pull together in her mind and, for the first time, form a coherent narrative—one that would give Caleb a clear motive for dispatching Seth Delaney. And from what they’ve found, it looks like Bea stumbling on his true identity would give him motive for killing her as well.
Disbelief plays out in Elin’s mind as she realizes that this case isn’t about the curse at all. Caleb’s motivation is something else entirely.
“I think we’ve got the perfect storm here,” she says slowly, moving to the side, out of earshot of Hana and Maya. “What if the SSSI Caleb and his father had planned for the island never came to fruition because Delaney scammed Porter Jackson of his money, money that might have helped his application? Delaney then goes on to build the retreat.”
“Bit of a slap in the face.”
“Exactly. The Jacksons try to protest the development, but fail, and then shortly afterward, Porter Jackson dies.” She looks at Steed. “It would give Caleb a pretty compelling motive.”
“Revenge.”
She nods. “A far more compelling motive than the curse surrounding Reaper’s Rock.”
“But what about what we found in the cave, the Creacher kids?” Steed says slowly. “How does that fit?”
“I think it fits perfectly. The cave, I’m sure, was Porter Jackson’s work, and for him, the motive of the curse, the reaper, still stands. The anomalies we picked up on between the cases is a result of the fact they were committed by two different people. I think Porter Jackson was obsessed with the rock and killed those teenagers in 2003, and Caleb was simply using that connection to throw us off the scent.”
“That makes sense, but the one thing I don’t get is why the SSSI matters so much to the Jacksons in the first place.”
“Think about what Caleb told Hana about how his father was getting his life back on track just before he died, the threatening emails Seth Delaney was receiving. The message was similar in both; Ronan Delaney had prevented people from getting on with their lives. If it was Caleb Jackson who sent the emails, maybe it refers to this. Perhaps the SSSI was a way of ensuring his father wasn’t compelled to kill again. If it became a nature reserve, it would never be inhabited, so no temptation.”
“Breaking the spell.”
“Exactly. I—” Elin stops as they hear footsteps approach. They turn to find Tom, the water sports instructor, picking his way around the sleeping forms.
“There’s something you should know,” he says quickly. “I’ve just seen a man outside, running across the bridge to the islet.”
Elin takes a breath. “When?”
“Ten minutes or so ago . . . I woke up just before, heard a thudding. Thought it was the storm at first, then I remembered that I’d forgotten to put the last rack of boards away. Didn’t want them damaging the shack, so I went out to sort it.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t go out the main doors?”
Sheepishly, Tom shakes his head, points to a room divider halfway across the side wall, sitting parallel to the wall itself. “There’s a door, behind there.” He pauses. “I was only out there a few minutes when I saw him.”
“Not staff?”
“Not sure,” Tom replies. “It’s only dimly lit . . . no lights on the bridge itself.”
Elin’s stomach tightens.
The islet.
Turning to Steed, she drops her voice a notch. “You searched there, didn’t you?”
“Pretty thoroughly.”
“Any chance you missed something?”
“It’s possible. Tree cover’s fairly thick in places.”
“I want to take another look.” Elin looks at him. “I’ll go.”
He frowns. “Alone?”
“I’ll have to, we can’t risk leaving the lodge unattended.”
“Are you heading out now?”
She nods, adrenaline pulsing through her as she glances outside. “If that’s our killer, possibly Caleb, I’m thinking there’s a good explanation as to why he’s gone out there.”
“Farrah.”
88
Once the detectives have gone, Maya lies down, dark curls splaying out over the pale fabric of her coat. “Han, try to go back to sleep. There’s nothing you can do. Not now. You need to sleep.”
Hana looks at her, incredulous. How can Maya even think about resting?
A wave of nausea pushes through her as she thinks about the group arriving on the jetty only a few days ago, reduced to this. The two of them. She can’t bear it. “I just don’t understand.” Tears are welling up, hot behind her eyes. “Caleb . . . he loved Bea. How he talked about her—you can’t fake that.” Hana scrolls through their conversations in her mind, a ball of anger and frustration burning in her chest. She recalls his palpable grief. How had she missed something so vital?