He came back round the couch and dropped the phone on the floor, then picked up a chunky vase and brought it down hard on the screen.
‘He tried to restrain you, to fight you off, which is when you hit your head on the door frame.’
He came back to where Maggie was lying and picked her up, quite gently, in his arms. He carried her to the door, and then he suddenly spun, whacking her head on the wooden frame.
Maggie’s vision blurred as he carried her back across the room and dumped her down by the couch.
‘You went for him. Killed him with the knife. Enter stage right the anxious stepson, having hot-footed it here after receiving a worrying text message from dear old Dad. I’m extremely concerned for his safety. And rightly so, as it turns out.’ He picked up the vase, grimaced, and smashed it into his own face.
‘Oof!’
Then he stooped to force Maggie’s hand round the base of the vase. ‘You went for me too, of course. Fortunately, that was an unequal contest! I had to restrain you and call an ambulance and then the cops. You don’t mind if I use your phone, do you?’
He left the room and returned with her phone. ‘I’ll maybe leave it a while. Would take me what, fifteen, twenty minutes between receiving the text message and getting here and calling the emergency services?’ He squatted down next to her. ‘What kind of mother are you, killing Isla’s dad and getting yourself banged up for murder, leaving her with no one?’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘No one but her big brother.’
‘No,’ went Maggie, her voice all hoarse. ‘You leave Isla alone! What has she ever done to you?’
Nick seemed to consider the point. ‘Get herself born?’
He stood, and walked to the smashed French doors.
Isla.
What would become of Isla? She would have no one now. No one but Nick, going up to her at the funeral, maybe, to explain everything in his convincing way.
He had thought it all through. That text message – oh aye, he’d planned it all. And there were witnesses to how overjoyed he and Duncan had been to be reunited. Michael might not cooperate, but the wife, Lulu, would tell the police how made-up dear Nick had been to see his da again. Probably give him an alibi too.
A few feet away from Nick was the coffee table with Maggie’s laptop on it. He had only to open it, guess her password – why the fuck had she gone for Isla1997? – and there would be Isla’s life laid out in front of him. Her network of friends, all those posts about uni, about Sweden . . .
‘Yvonne.’ She had to stop him thinking about Isla. ‘What have you done to her?’
‘Oh, Yvonne made a very silly mistake. At the time of your disappearance, she was supposedly at the Agricultural Marketing UK Conference. But when she came to dinner a few days ago, she’d obviously forgotten what she’d said before. She claimed to have been at the Technologies for Small Businesses Conference. Wrong!’ He grinned. ‘She underestimated my memory. Everything that happened at that time is seared into my brain, Mags. Understandably enough, I think you’d agree? I always suspected she might know something, and her unnecessary lie about the conference supported that conclusion. Okay, so she could have forgotten which conference she was at, but why not just say so if that was the case? Why lie about it? So, I put a tracker on her car. Followed her to Craibstone Wood on one of the bikes from Sunnyside. Confronted her, just as she was putting on her walking boots.’ He paused. ‘Tried to get her to tell me what had happened that day, but the stupid bitch fought me. Correction – she tried to fight me. Before I knew it, she was dead, having told me precisely nothing. But no matter. It’s all worked out in the end.’
‘What did you do with her?’
‘With the body? Slung it in the boot of her car, drove a few miles to the river, chucked her in there. Maybe she’ll wash up somewhere, but there won’t be anything on the body to indicate murder. Actually, it wasn’t murder. I didn’t want her dead, did I? Not before she’d told me what I wanted to know, anyway. I hit her too hard, Mags, but that was her own fault for cutting up rough. I don’t think the police will suspect suspicious circumstances even if they find her. She could just as easily have tripped on the riverbank, having extended her usual walk by a few miles, and hit her head. Fallen in. But I doubt she’ll be found now. Probably halfway to Ireland.’ He nodded. ‘She helped you get away, didn’t she? Stupid bitch.’
‘Yvonne was a really good person.’ For some reason, Maggie felt she had to say it. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’