Page 115 of The Rising Tide

‘This was always a tragedy written entirely for your benefit,’ Lucian says. ‘But I never expected to be so affected. It’s been hard, Lucy, watching your pain. At times, it’s been unbearable.’

‘Lucian—’

‘No,’ he says, his eyes welling up. ‘Please don’t make this any more difficult. We’re at the denouement, Lucy. Tragedy grants us redemption. Through our suffering we are healed.’

Planting his foot in the small of Bee’s back, Lucian shoves her forwards. She plummets from the boat, hits the water and immediately sinks beneath it. Before Lucy can scream at him to stop, Lucian does the same to Fin. One moment her boy is shivering up on deck. The next he’s disappeared beneath the waves.

FIFTY

1

Abraham Rose climbs the caged switchback steps, taking them in pairs. As he rises above the stone breakwater, his view of the sea improves. He spots a couple of trawlers moving south, an oil tanker and a container ship heading north-east, but no motor launches or yachts. Wherever Lucy Locke went, she’s beyond sight of land.

The wind changes. Smoke stings Abraham’s eyes. He draws it into his lungs and coughs it out, appalled at the pain.

This close to Mortis Point’s southern face, he can’t see the house burning above him, but he sees the gushing black smoke. Below him, he recognizes the Drift Net’s roof. The flames are coming from an alley that runs behind it, where a stack of wooden pallets is burning.

Why would Lucy start a firebehindthe venue? Unless she’s acting under duress and doing the bare minimum to comply? The house on Mortis Point can clearly be seenfrom the sea. The Drift Net, by contrast, is hidden by the breakwater wall.

Reaching the RNLI boathouse, he hauls open the door.

2

Except for the Tamar-class lifeboat angled on its cradle, the boat hall is deserted. Abraham sees the steel ramp descending to the water. Two metal walkways surround the boat, one on his level, another above it. ‘Police!’ he shouts. ‘Who’s in charge?’

A man appears on the overhead walkway. Wild grey hair, wild grey beard. ‘I’m Donny,’ he says, wiping his hands on a rag. ‘Donahue O’Hare. What’re you after, son?’

Abraham points down the ramp at the water. ‘I need you to get me out there.Right now.’

O’Hare scratches his beard. ‘What you need, and what I can deliver, might be two different things. You want to give me some context?’

‘You know Lucy Locke?’

‘Aye.’

‘Have you looked out of the window in the last ten minutes?’

Frowning, O’Hare clangs around the walkway until he’s right above Abraham’s head. He’s silent a moment and then he starts cursing. ‘Son, you better get up here and explain.’

FIFTY-ONE

1

Two fizzing circles on the sea, the second far smaller than the first. As Lucy kicks off her boots and leaps on to the side deck, Lucian warns her to stop. She’s about to dive into the water regardless when she spots his foot resting against the three weightlifting plates still on deck. It takes her scrambled brain a moment to process the implications.

The water between the two yachts foams afresh. Fin bobs to the surface, gasping and spluttering. Moments later, Bee emerges too.

Lucy knows how cold that water is, how quickly it strips away heat. But if she disobeys Lucian and dives in, he’ll almost certainly kick over Fin’s ballast. No way she can reach her son before those cast-iron plates yank him down.

Fin screams for her between breaths. Lucy’s hands make fists, clenching and unclenching. Her son’s cries are a torture. Hooks in her skin.

‘Wait,’ Lucian begs her. ‘Please. I’ve sacrificed so muchto bring you to this moment. Please don’t jeopardize everything now. This is what we’ve been building towards since the beginning. One choice that changes everything. An opportunity for redemption, if only you’re brave enough to seize it. And Iknowyou’re brave enough, Lucy.’

If only she were closer. If only she had some way of reaching him. She might not be handcuffed, like Daniel, but he’s rendered her just as powerless.

‘You get to choose how this ends, don’t you see?’ he continues. ‘And then you get to live with your choice. I just need a name: Bee or your darling boy. One life sacrificed for another. And – just like I told Daniel – if you choose neither, you lose both.’

His face creases, as if he’s gripped by agonies of his own. ‘I know it’s brutal. But I also know how much youneedthis. There’s beauty inside you, Lucy. But also such darkness. Take this last step and we’ll purge it together. Renewal through suffering, just like the philosopher said.’

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