“I love you,” he said.
It was obvious, from the look on her face, that this gamble failed. Kate’s expression hardened. “Liar.”
And that instant I had been praying for arrived. A suspension of disbelief; a kind of theatrical alchemy—call it what you will. Illusion became truth in Kate’s mind. In her imagination, the idea that Jason was not to be trusted took hold. For the first time since knowing him, she felt afraid of him.
This was made worse when Jason tried again, with more force.
“Give me the gun, Kate.”
“No.”
“Kate—”
“Did you kill her?”
“What?” Jason stared at her, incredulous. “What?”
“Did you kill Lana?” Kate went on, quickly. “Elliot said you killed her—by mistake. He said—you meant to kill me.”
“What?” Jason groaned. “He’s insane. That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is!” He made a movement toward her. “Give me the gun.”
“No.” Kate raised the gun. “Stop.”
She pointed the gun at him. She was shaking so much, it took both her hands to keep it steady.
Jason took another step toward her. “Listen to me. Elliot is a liar. Do you know how much she has left him? Millions. Think about it—who do you trust, Kate? Me or him?”
Jason sounded so upset, so impassioned, so genuine, Kate found herself wanting to trust him. But it was too late. She didn’t trust him.
“Keep away from me, Jason. I mean it. Keep back.”
“Give me the gun. Now.”
“Stop. Don’t come any closer.”
But he kept moving toward her, step by step.
“Jason, stop.”
He kept coming closer.
“Stop.”
He kept walking. He held out his hand. “Give it to me. It’s me, for Christ’s sake. It’s Jason.”
But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Jason, not anymore—it wasn’t the person she had known and loved. As if in a nightmare, he had transformed from a lover into a monster.
Then he made a sudden lunge toward her—
And Kate’s finger squeezed the trigger. She fired.
But she missed. And Jason kept coming.… Kate fired again— And again …
And again.
Finally, she hit her mark. Jason collapsed, and he tumbled down the jetty steps. He lay there, motionless … bleeding to death on the sand.
* * *
I wish I could end the story there.
Smashing ending, isn’t it? It has everything you need: a man, a woman, a gun, a beach, moonlight. Hollywood would love it.
But I can’t end the story like that.
Why not? Because it isn’t true, unfortunately. That’s not what happened. It’s just a figment of my imagination. It’s what I hoped would happen— it’s the scene I sketched out in my notebook.
But it’s only fiction, I’m afraid.
Real life turned out somewhat differently.
9
As I stood there, in the shadows, watching Kate climb the jetty steps, I had the first unpleasant inkling that reality was diverging from my plans for it.
I felt a small, sharp jab in my back. I quickly turned around.
Nikos was there, standing behind me. He was holding a gun on me, which he prodded me with again. Harder this time.
When I saw it was him, I felt annoyed, rather than concerned.
“Back off. Don’t point that fucking thing at me. I thought Jason told you to stay in your cottage.”
Nikos ignored my words. He stared at me, suspiciously. “We find the others.” He gestured for me to walk. “Go.”
He nodded at the beach—in the direction of the jetty, and Jason and Kate. I immediately felt alarmed.
“No,” I said, quickly. “Not that way. Not a good idea.”
“Go.” Nikos jabbed me again with the gun. “Now.”
“No, listen. The police are coming. We need to find Leo and Agathi.” I went on, slowly and emphatically, so he’d understand: “You and me, we go back to the house. And we find them. Okay?”
I went to point him in the right direction. But as soon as my hand moved, his gun was dug deep into my chest. He pressed it hard between my ribs. I could feel my heart thudding against it. Nikos wasn’t fucking around.
He nodded again at the jetty. “Go. Now—”
“Okay, okay. Calm down.”
Seeing I had no choice, I accepted my fate with a sigh. Like a sulky child, I walked down onto the beach.
As we crossed the sand, Nikos kept close behind me, digging the gun into my back. He was suspicious of me, and rightly so. How stupid of me to let him catch me, lurking in the bushes, spying on Kate and Jason. It didn’t look good; and now I’d have to talk my way out of it—and it wouldn’t be easy. I’d have to improvise, which wasn’t my strong suit.