The Jump by Doug Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

chest. She pulled a T-shirt out of the drawer, a plain green thing that Logan had got from French Connection, way overpriced, she remembered, the stitching flimsy along the seams.
    When she turned round Sam was naked from the waist up, holding his T-shirt and hoodie scrunched up in his fists. Good muscle definition, flat stomach, hairless chest. Definitely a couple of years older than Logan, closer to being a man.
    She handed him the clean clothes and took the bloody ones from him. Watched as he pulled the clothes on then checked his phone again.
    He was now dressed entirely in Logan’s clothes. Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and sighed. She looked down at the stained bundle in her hand. This was bad, all of it, but she was still in control. That’s what she told herself, she was still in control of this situation.

10
    She led him out the back door and locked it behind her. It was twilight now, street and house lights coming on across the water, the orange sheen from the bridge lights making the churn of the Forth look radioactive. The gloom would help them, though.
    She pushed Sam ahead of her, down to the beach. The clatter of pebbles and shingle under their feet was loud in Ellie’s ears. She had a small rucksack slung over one shoulder and was clutching a Tesco carrier bag with all Sam’s clothes in it. She wasn’t sure how yet, but she would have to get rid of them.
    They headed west along the beach, the backs of the posher houses overlooking them. Hopefully it was dark enough now that they couldn’t be seen, or maybe just mistaken for a couple of dog walkers. The tide was out so they could get quite far along on the pebbles before they reached the larger rocks of the embankment under the road bridge. They passed the converted steading and the residential home then reached some oak trees and trudged up through them till they came out on Shore Road directly under the bridge. The concrete supports were fenced off, barbed wire across the top, security signs everywhere. Inside the fenced-off area were diggers, giant rolls of metal wire, huge pipes. It was like a kid’s play set on a massive scale.
    They risked a hundred yards on Shore Road then ducked through some more trees and across the car park at the back of the marina. It was dark here, not enough money to keep the security lights operating, they had brought it up at marina committee meetings, Ellie remembered. Long, thin warehouses and boat sheds were all around them, boats parked up on lanes and alleyways as well, from tiny dinghies through bigger sailboats to macho powerboats.
    They went round past the toilets and block of changing rooms rather than risk walking past the yacht clubhouse or the coastguard Portakabin. Not that there would be anyone inside at this time, skeleton staff on reduced shifts these days.
    Ellie and Sam skirted the last of the boats in the dinghy park then rounded the workshop nearest the quay, the slipway down to the water’s edge a mess of mud and seaweed. They clambered on to the pier then scurried along it. At the marina shed they walked past the weather-beaten sign prohibiting the landing of foreign animals, then Ellie stopped at the security gate that led down to the berths.
    She looked around but couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t want to run into one of the old seadogs tinkering on their boats. She turned to Sam and nodded at the gate.
    ‘I’ll show you the code in case you need to come and go. It’s C0604, then you turn this dial.’ She showed him carefully, and the door clunked open.
    Sam looked round. ‘I’ve never been here before.’
    Ellie closed the gate. ‘Now you try. The “4” is a bit stiff.’
    He opened it no problem and she ushered him down the steps. There were four rows of pontoons leading off from the main one, all pointing at the breakwater further out. The harbour walls either side meant the water was calm and the pontoons only swayed a little under their weight.
    ‘We’re