Page 98 of The House Guest

I went back inside, washed up my empty coffee cup and fixed lunch for myself. This was how my days went. In the afternoon, I swam a few lengths in the pool, then went online for a while. Did a little more work. Answered some emails. Went on to 4Chan and searched the boards for references to Gabriel and his followers. I thought about how by writing this TV show I was making the target on my head even bigger, before persuading myself it would all be okay.

Night fell. The moon shone on the ocean. I waited for Ruth to come home and told myself that this was what I’d always wanted.

We’re everywhere.

Life was perfect.

And then, at 8.30 p.m., when I was two episodes into a new series on Netflix, there was a knock at the door.

Chapter 44

I peered out of the side window. It was a young woman with blonde hair. She had her head down but I knew instantly who it was. I removed the chains from the door and slid both bolts across, then opened it.

‘Hi, Adam.’

‘Hello, Eden.’

She smiled at me, just as she had that evening in Brooklyn, nine months ago. She wasn’t dripping wet this time, though. She didn’t look like she’d crawled out of the Pacific. And she wasn’t a stranger. Not anymore.

‘Are you going to invite me in?’ she asked.

I stepped aside to let her enter, then closed the door after her, sliding the bolts back into place and re-applying the chains.

She watched me. ‘Paranoid much?’

‘Aren’t you?’

I knew that she was in witness protection. She was the prosecution’s most valuable asset, had done a deal with them whereby she would testify in return for immunity. She was the only member of the cult who had even admitted it existed. The only person willing and able to stand up in court and describe what Gabriel’s organisation had been like, from the inside. She had already helped the authorities dig up two bodies and had, I knew, spent days – weeks – painstakingly telling them everything she knew.

This was the first time I had seen her in the flesh since the night of the ceremony. The first time I had spoken to her properly since we’d all got drunk on tequila, and whatever else she’d dosed it with.

She had helped us. But, unlike Wanda, I didn’t feel that I owed her. Because I blamed her too.

I led her into the kitchen, which was huge and shiny, with a central island.

‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked. ‘We don’t have any booze in the house, I’m afraid.’

‘Water’s fine. Thanks.’

I pulled out a stool on one side and gestured for her to sit opposite me.

She looked around. ‘What a place,’ she said. Beyond the kitchen window, we could see the ocean shining in the moonlight.

‘I know. I always thought of myself as an East Coast kind of person. Now I’m not so sure.’

‘Planning on staying here?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s where the work is. I guess we’ll go back to the UK at some point.’ Despite the luxury of my surroundings, I missed London. I missed our cat, who was still being looked after by a neighbour. She had undoubtedly forgotten us. I’d been back at Christmas to see my family and pick up some stuff, shocked to feel cold for the first time in months. Then I’d returned to the never-ending sunshine.

‘Is that where Ruth is now?’ Eden asked, sipping her water. ‘At work?’

‘Yeah. She’ll be another hour or so.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘That gives us plenty of time to talk.’

‘What, do you want to reminisce about the good times? When you took my girlfriend into the clutches of a death cult and almost got us both killed?’

That brought a faint smile. ‘I’m sorry, Adam. But if it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else. And that person wouldn’t have got you both out of there.’

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