Outside they sat next to each other, not speaking. It was dark and late and there was no one around. Robbie took Laura’s hand in his and held it.
This was the only boy she had ever loved. It was her fault they were in this mess and there was no way she was letting him take the rap for it. He had a bright future and he’d give that up over her dead body. Not Lester’s.
Eventually she turned to him. ‘It’s our only chance.’
‘What?’
‘My brother keeps a can of gasoline out back.’
Robbie held his hands up, as if he could repel the force of her suggestion. ‘Laura, no.’
‘Just think about it a second—’
‘No.’
She touched his face. ‘Don’t you get it? My brother’s so drunk most of the time he doesn’t even know who he is. He could burn this place down all by himself. Nobody around here would ever know … Robbie, they’d expect it.’
She paused. ‘Do you hear what I’m saying? We have to destroy the evidence, all of it–it’s the only way.’
Robbie shook his head, but she could see him flipping it over, feeling its edges, trying it out.
‘We can’t.’ His eyes were black, serious. ‘What about the future? What about Vegas? How could we ever live with ourselves—?’
Laura kissed him. He kissed her back and for seconds they forgot. Tonight wasn’t happening; it was just a terrible dream from which they would soon wake up.
‘We will live, Robbie. And this is how. I’m not letting him ruin the rest of my life. I’m not letting him ruin us.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I’m not.’
He kissed her again. I’d do anything for you,’ he said, and she believed him. ‘But I know you and I know how you think. I can’t walk into this now if it means you realising in a year’s time that we made a mistake—’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘It might. ‘
‘It won’t.’
He shook his head and laughed emptily. ‘You can’t be sure of that.’ He held her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. ‘We go to the police—’ When she opened her mouth to object, he put a finger to her lips. ‘We go to the police and explain what happened. It was self-defence, just like you said. We’ve done nothing wrong.’ He swallowed, turned away. ‘You haven’t, at least.’
Laura shrugged him off and got to her feet. He would never convince her, however hard he tried. She knew he would carry the weight of the punishment and if there was anything in her power that could stop that happening, she would do it.
He followed her round the back of the trailer, watched in silence as she rummaged in a heap of cans.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘It’s not the right decision. You can’t see it now, but I promise you, it’s a mistake.’
‘Forget promises, Robbie.’ She found what she was looking for, freed it with a violent tug and unscrewed the cap. A sweet, stinging smell rose up from its neck. ‘You promised me we’d get away from here, you promised me that, too, remember?’ Fighting tears of panic, she wiped a sleeve across her nose. It left a sooty black mark. ‘I’m not letting you go down. This is our only way out and I’m taking it. For once, I’m fighting back. Just tell me: tell me you trust me.’
His answer came straight away. ‘I trust you.’
Laura took a deep breath, bolstered by his confidence even though she knew he would have played it differently. ‘You don’t have to be a part of it,’ she said.
He reached for a pack of matches on a decrepit ladder of wooden shelves behind her.
‘I am a part of it.’
When she took them from him, they both knew there was no going back.
Cole Steel’s Gulfstream private jet soared high above the clouds, its sleek white body glinting against a flesh-pink sunset. Vegas was less than an hour away.
‘Have a drink, it might cheer you up,’ said Cole. Lana stayed quiet.
Cole knew he had to draw his wife back to him, as one might a mistrustful pet, if they were going to convince waiting paparazzi that the marriage was rock-solid. The way Lana was acting, it was as if she were being taken to the gallows.
He leaned over. ‘What’s up with you?’ he asked through gritted teeth. Still she didn’t say anything, just kept staring out the window. ‘Christ!’ he spat, losing his temper. This was a complication he could do well without. He turned back and flipped open a magazine with force.
The jet, one of four in Cole’s fleet, was palatial. Its interior was a fine palette of neutral creams complete with gilt finishes, and on each leather seatback the letters CS were embroidered in gold. Crystal lamps adorned the cabin, a fusion of modern and classic, and a bar at one end stocked a wealth of refreshments.
Lana stayed where she was. She could not look at her husband, could not bear to look inside the cabin even, too stark a reminder it was of where she was going. Instead she preferred the view outside, the uncomplicated spread of the sky.
Cole got up and stormed to the bathroom, muttering something on his way past. Lana watched him go, a tide of nausea washing over her as nerves tightened their hold.
Robbie Lewis was down there somewhere. He was close.
The past threatened to overwhelm her; that last part that hurt her heart the most and left her awake at night, wrung out with guilt. She battled it with all her strength.
Cole resumed his seat and began tapping furiously on his laptop. Lana glanced across at him with a stab of pity. She could not love him, not ever. Thank God the end was within reach: in two years their marriage would be over and she would be free to love whomever she chose.
Closing her eyes, she imagined what Robbie might say if she told him this, if she dared to confess that she still had feelings for him. Would he laugh at her? No. Would he be mad? Maybe. Was it possible, even the tiniest possibility, that he felt the same?
Hope blossomed, just a vulnerable shoot but hope all the same. Yes, it was possible. There was still a chance; they could still have a future. It didn’t have to be over.
‘On second thoughts, I will have that drink,’ she told Cole.
He
