Eighteen
Normally, Narelle was a patient person, but the wait from the time she received Andy’s message that he’d arranged for Margot to bring her the laptop, to Margot sending her own message to say she was on the way, seemed to be longer than anything she’d experienced.
A totally ridiculous feeling, because it had only been a half an hour. She was anxious to finally do something productive. Contacting her superior and getting her laptop delivered was something she could’ve done in hospital once she’d been put into a normal room. Although she doubted Tina would’ve sent it to her while she was still being interrupted every few hours by nurses checking on her. Nor did she think Andy would be happy about it.
A rush of tenderness consumed her as she thought of Andy and their text exchange. Her heart had tripped when she saw the heart emoji at the end of his text message. It wasn’t as if that was a declaration of love, but it was significant. She hadn’t hesitated to add one at the end of her response, along with a kissy face.
For a brief second, after she hit send, she worried that it might have been too much but disregarded it. Andy had made the first move, and she stepped it up.
The doorbell ringing startled her, even though she’d been expecting it, and she took a second to get her racing heart under control. It wasn’t as if she was going to be surprised as to who was behind the door. It was going to be Margot with her laptop.
Eager to get to work, she scooted down the hallway toward the front door, immensely glad that Andy had tiled and wooden floors throughout his house. It made moving around a lot easier. The only carpeted rooms were the theatre room and a spare room, which Andy referred to as his junk room, and advised her it would be in her best interests to avoid it. She didn’t care if it was messy, everyone was allowed one junk room in their house.
Before she opened the door, she gave the scootera push so that it was out of the way and grabbed the crutches she’d put near the door earlier. It was a lot easier to open the door on them than her leg scooter. She tested putting some weight on her broken arm, pleased when she still didn’t get any pain. Perhaps she could use the crutches a bit earlier than the doctor had predicted.
Narelle looked through the peephole in the door and saw Margot standing on porch, a black laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She’d never been so happy to see her laptop in her life.
Flicking the locks undone, along with disarming the alarm system—the last thing she needed was for it to blare loudly around the neighborhood—she pulled open the door, a ready smile on her face. “Hi, Margot, come on in.” She hopped back to let the woman in.
“Oh no, it’s okay. I’ve got to get back to the office. Here you go?” She held out the laptop, but Narelle’s focus was on the person coming up the walkway.
What was Camille doing here?
Had Tina given her Andy’s address? And if so, why? She’d obviously sent the laptop to Power Security, because Margot had brought it.
“Camille?”
Margot turned, her shocked gasp registering at the same time as Narelle saw the gun Camille was holding. Instinct had her grabbing Margot, and she tried to pull her into the house but it was hard to do so being on crutches.
How the hell did Camille get a gun? It wasn’t easy to get firearms in Australia. But she supposed if someone wanted one, there were ways to obtain them.
“If you want to live, I wouldn’t do that. Then again, with what’s going to happen to you, maybe dying would be better.” Camille aimed the gun at Narelle as she stalked closer to them.
None of this made sense.
“What’s going on, Camille?” Somehow her voice sounded steady, when her insides were jumping around as if she was on a trampoline.
“You have no idea how much pain you’ve caused me! Why couldn’t you have disappeared like you were supposed to? I got you to Bali. I did everything I was supposed to, and then you waltz back into the office when you should’ve been far away in your new job. Now I’ve got them hounding me night and day! Threatening to have me replace you, and that’s not happening. I didn’t get thousands andthousands of dollars to not be able to spend it because you’re still here.”
Beside her, Margot was as tense as a piece of petrified wood. For Narelle, there was such a sense of surrealness about the whole situation, that it took her a couples of seconds for everything to fall into place.
“Wait. You were paid to get me to go to Bali? Why? What did I ever do to you?” Fear filled her, and her flight instinct was kicking in. She wanted to run as far as she could from Camille, but it was impossible. Not only because of her broken leg, but because Margot was with her.
“You took my promotion, and when the call came out for an Australian woman, you fit the bill. I was doing what I was asked to do. But…” She eyed Margot and a speculative gleam entered her eye. “Maybe I’ll get some good points if I bring them the two of you, instead of just you. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
Camille said the last bit under her breath, and Narelle was sure the woman was having some sort of mental breakdown or episode. Her eyes were a little bloodshot. Was she high? It was one of the reasons Narelle had had to report Camille because ofher drug issue. Although she’d assured management she wasn’t using anymore.
The way she looked and was acting suggested otherwise.
“We have to move,” she whispered to Margot.
“Where? She’s got a gun on us. Even if we went inside, she’d just shoot the lock.” How had Margot sounded so practical, when the stiffness of her body had morphed into shaking?
“Your friend is right. You try to move, I’ll shoot, and I’d rather not, considering I could get another payment for bringing your friend along. Now, come on, move. I haven’t got all day.” Camille waved the gun around, her finger perilously close to the trigger, and she looked as though she wouldn’t have any problem pulling it.
Would going make her one of those “too stupid to live” kind of characters seen in horror movies who always walk toward the danger instead of away?
What choice did she have, though? There was no way she wanted Margot to get hurt. Hell, she didn’t want to get hurt either. She’d had enough of that over the last few weeks to last a lifetime.
