Noa watched without saying a word.

Sarah stood before her and held out the child. ‘Hold him,’ she said.

‘I need to hold the gun.’

‘I’ll sit here,’ Sarah said. ‘You can hold the gun in your right hand-your uninjured hand-with Azron cradled on your knee. He needs your warmth. He needs you.’

Noa hesitated. The gun wavered. Sarah stood, holding the child, her eyes calm and steady.

The woman needed time, Sarah thought. She wouldn’t pressure her more than she already had. She’d eaten a little and she’d drunk a full bottle of water. If she could settle with her child in her arms, maybe she could gradually learn to trust.

Maybe.

And there was time. She wouldn’t rush. Azron’s need was still urgent, but he was being rehydrated. There were antibiotics running into his system. Establishing trust with his mother was the only way forward.

‘Hold him,’ she said again, and Azron opened his eyes-just a fraction-and whimpered.

It was too much. Noa gave a tiny choking sob and held out her arms.

Sarah could have moved then. She could have grabbed the gun. But there was a risk it might have gone off-a risk she wasn’t prepared to take.

Patience.

She lowered the child onto Noa’s knee, then backed against the cliff and sat. She carefully stayed within range. She carefully stayed where the gun could easily point at her without Noa straining.

‘What now?’ she asked.

‘We wait.’ Noa was clutching Azron and Sarah saw that her need for contact was almost overwhelming. She had no clue how to go forward. But now wasn’t the time to push her further.

‘Okay. I’m happy with that. Let’s wait a while until you see your way forward,’ she agreed. She sat and let the silence drag out.

Noa’s eyes flickered to Sarah, to the face of her son, to the cleft in the rock face through which a threat might come…

Her eyes were exhausted.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ Sarah said gently. ‘Tell me what happened to drive you from your country.’

‘No.’ Noa shook her head, fierce in denial. ‘No.’ Then she hesitated. ‘You…you tell me. Tell me about you. Are you married?’

‘No.’

‘So you have no children?’

‘No.’

‘It’s good to have children.’ The woman clutched Azron a little tighter, and then seemed to make a determined effort to concentrate on Sarah.

‘Why aren’t you married? Has no man asked you?’

‘One man did,’ Sarah said softly. ‘A long time ago. And at first I said yes. But then I turned him down.’

Noa’s eyes caught hers. And held. Woman to woman.

This was the first trace of something away from her nightmare, Sarah thought. A tiny vestige of normality. One woman talking relationships with another.

‘You turned him down?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Tell me,’ Noa whispered. ‘While we wait for my son to get well…you tell me.’


Which one?

There were so many caves around here. The sand had obliterated the barrow marks. It had to be easy walking distance, though. She couldn’t have got far.

Barry moved from cleft to cleft, his gun at the ready, staying in shadows.

Where…?

‘Bastards,’ he whispered. ‘They’ve ruined my career. Bastards…’

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Where?


Half a mile out of town Alistair found Barry. Or he saw him. He glimpsed him in the distance at first. Alistair walked on, but instinctively moved closer to the cliffs, staying out of sight.

What on earth was Barry doing here? He was in full uniform, climbing along the cliff face.

Gun raised.

Alistair melted backwards. Maybe he should call out. Should he? This was Barry, after all. He was a police officer.

But…he was a suspended police officer. Alistair had watched Barry’s face yesterday as they’d carried Amal away and he’d worried. Barry had looked at the wounded man and the expression on his face had been almost one of satisfaction. That look had disturbed him, and he’d passed on his concern to Larry. The man needed full psychological assessment.

He needed help.

Larry should have taken his gun away from him, Alistair thought. But to take his firearm… Well, it obviously hadn’t occurred to Larry. Barry wasn’t a criminal. He’d been far too over-zealous, and there was no way he could stay in the force after yesterday, but to strip him of uniform and gun straight away probably wasn’t in Larry’s jurisdiction.

And maybe it hadn’t seemed necessary.

But now… Now Alistair made a choice. He wouldn’t call out. The way Barry was moving scared him, he decided. The way he held the gun.

What on earth was he doing?

Alistair watched.

The big policeman seemed to be searching the cliff face, moving swiftly over the shale towards a cleft just above him.

Alistair frowned, growing more uneasy by the minute. What did Barry know that they didn’t?

Where was Sarah?

Making a swift decision, he pulled back, out of sight behind a rock face. Lifting his cellphone, he dialled Larry. Okay, Larry was involved in an urgent police search, south of town, but Alistair didn’t like what was happening here one bit. There were things that didn’t fit.

What was Barry doing out here? The man was suspended. He had no business wearing his uniform. He had no business holding a gun.

Where was Sarah?

‘Larry?’ he said into the phone, keeping his voice low. ‘Larry, I think I need help. I’ll tell you what’s happening. Listen…’


Behind the cliff face, things were easier.

The last half-hour had been spent establishing trust. Azron seemed to have stabilised. His breathing was easier, his pulse was strengthening and he seemed naturally asleep in his mother’s arms. Sarah felt that her decision not to push things had been justified.

And Noa?

She’d listened as Sarah had told her story. It was a pathetic tale, Sarah decided-a story of loving one twin too much and one too little-but it had served its purpose. Noa’s body seemed to have relaxed, some of the awful tension easing. At the end her questions had been thoughtful and sympathetic, and Sarah had thought, Who was treating who?

But it was good. It had turned the tables just a little, giving Noa back a trace of her dignity. It was a tiny taste of normality in a world that was no longer normal.

And then there was the sound of footsteps. Shale slipping down the cliff face. Someone approaching.

Sarah was sitting by the cleft. She couldn’t see.

But Noa…Noa could see. Noa could hear. The fear which had blessedly eased over the last few minutes came flooding back. Her gun jerked upward, waving from Sarah to the cleft and back.

‘Move. Sideways.’

‘Noa, I don’t know who this is, but it’ll be a friend.’ Sarah’s voice was urgent. ‘Please. Let me see who it is. Let me stop them.’

‘Move.’ Noa was on her feet, clutching her son hard against her, her hand somehow still controlling the gun. She glanced behind her to the north face, where the shale of the cliff face rose at an almost forty-five-degree angle. ‘Move away from the entrance.’

Sarah moved. About a foot. Her eyes didn’t leave Noa’s gun.

‘Whoever it is, stay where you are!’ Sarah called out. ‘We’re fine. Noa’s fine. Don’t come closer.’

That’d stop Larry, she thought. He’d get her urgency. He’d stop.

The footsteps paused.

Then… ‘Whoever’s in there, I have you covered. Get out now. Come out now with your hands up.’

Barry.

It was Barry. His voice was deep and low and unmistakable.

Sarah’s gaze flew back to Noa and she saw that Noa knew exactly who was out there. The man who had shot her husband.

She was holding her injured son.

She was trapped.

‘No,’ Noa whispered. She cast an anguished look at Sarah-as if for just a moment she’d learned to trust and that trust had been dreadfully betrayed-and then she turned to the cliff.

‘You can’t climb-’ Sarah took a step towards her but the gun whirled back.

‘Don’t stop me. We must.’ The woman hauled the ends of her gown around her son and tied them hard, hauling the little boy into her body with a skill that must have been learned from generations of women who suffered with children in terror-torn countries. And then she took her first steps up the rock face.

The shale slipped.

Noa held. Her feet, in flimsy rope sandals, gripped the shale. She moved upward.

How could she hold on? How?

‘Noa, no!’

‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’

Barry was standing in the cleft in full uniform, his two hands holding his gun. Whether he meant the threat or not, he was pointing it straight at Noa.

Noa turned back to face him. Wavering. It was impossible for her to climb. Impossible.

So she did the only thing left to her. Leaning back against the shale, somehow balancing, she raised her gun towards Barry. ‘No!’

Sarah screamed. One yell that split the morning. She dived straight across, launching herself at Barry’s gun hand. He whirled.

She grabbed and pulled. ‘No!’

A searing, white-hot pain.

‘No…!’


From where he stood behind a rock face Alistair heard Sarah call out.

‘Whoever it is, stay where you are! We’re fine. Noa’s fine. Don’t come closer.’

Alistair dropped the phone and started forward. He saw Barry move into the cleft.

In the background he heard Larry’s voice, urgent over the phone, but he ignored it.

‘Whoever’s in there, I have you covered. Get out now. Come out now with your hands up.’

Dear God…

All he could see was Barry’s back. Then he was running, covering the yards to the foot of the cliff. Starting to climb.

‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’

‘No!’

Sarah! He was flying. He hadn’t known his body could move so fast. But not fast enough. Not-