Page 115 of Making a Killing

Ev pulls up an image on her phone and hands it across in silence. Jean reads it through, takes a breath and hands it to Phil. Her cheeks are red.

‘Gary, what does she mean, “you knew more than you were telling”?’ says Jean. ‘And who on earth is Kelsie Smith? Why didn’t you tell us –’

Sargent cuts across her. ‘Please, just let Gary answer, Mrs Mann.’

Behind Ev, on the screen, someone in blue has scored, the other players are mobbing him, he’s slid to his knees in front of the crowd, but no one in the room is interested.

They’re all looking at Gary.

***

MY SHADOW JOURNAL

Facing the darkness

As you become more accustomed to Shadow work, you may find yourself exploring the most problematic and complex elements of your psyche. Rage, self-destructiveness, greed, immoral behaviour, even sadistic or murderous impulses. There will be difficult truths – you may have to acknowledge that you have taken pleasure in destroying others, or have been motivated by resentment or the desire to cause pain.

‘Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate’

Carl Jung

Accepting this takes huge courage. Be proud of yourself for doing something very few people do. The value of Shadow work lies in confronting these aspects of your Self, understanding and resolving where they have come from, and moving towards wholeness and happiness. Your Shadow journal is a cathartic and confessional process, a safe and private space for healing and self-empowerment.

Today’s exercise

The secrets we choose to keep can offer a valuable insight into our Shadow. What is your darkest and most hidden secret – one you have never told another living soul? What would happen if people found out about it?

Secrets? Hey, I wrote the fucking book on secrets. Finding them, keeping them, using them. You can get addicted to secrets, just like anything else.

Actually you could say I got where I am today because of secrets. Big fucking irony, right? But the thing about knowing how you got somewhere is using that knowledge to get back out. Which is another big fucking irony. All those things K taught me back then – the importance of preparation, of thinking through what could go wrong. The weeks she’d spent going through the details, preparing the evidence we’d plant, doing dry runs, testing the whole thing to destruction. But it paid off, didn’t it. In spades. We walked away into a whole new life, right under everyone’s noses, and no one was even looking. And now I’m going to do it again. Only this time, she’s not part of it. This time, it’s her I’m running from.

Because that’s the secret. I’ve found a way out. A way to start over, and with enough money to do it properly. And I’ve done my prep, just like I learned from her. I’ve set it all up and all I need to do now is leave. And I’ve worked that part out too. I don’t have a passport and can’t get one while I’m still here without the risk of K finding out, but that isn’t a problem, because I don’t need it if I go on the ferry. She’s the one who taught me that. I just need an official form of ID, and I’ve got a birth certificate. There’s nothing fake about that. And once I have the money, none of that will be a problem any more. I’ll get a new passport. A new name. A new me.

As far as she knows I’ll just be going to Dublin for the weekend with Erin, staying with her aunt and going round the museums. Erin won’t say anything. Not, at least, until I’m long gone. She didn’t want to do it, but I made sure she knows she doesn’t have a choice. I thought K might put her foot down and try to stop me going but she didn’t bat an eyelid. She was watching some Lucy Worsley thing about Agatha Christie, which is just the sort of crap she’s into, so maybe that was part of it but either way she just smiled and said it was a great city, no doubt thinking of all those acres of time she’d have alone with Finn Mc-Totally-Uncool and no risk of being overheard if they went at it a bit loud.

What would she say if she knew? That I’m using everything she taught me to leave her? High and dry and right in the shit, just like I did Sharon? And even if it wouldn’t be a life sentence this time it would still be prison, all the same.

And what about that other secret – what if she finds out about that? I guess she might, after I’ve left. Not that I give a toss – après moi le fucking tsunami for all I care, as long as I’m good and gone. She’s way too dense to work it out herself, but that smartarse policeman, Adam Fawley – I reckon he’s cute enough to put ittogether. Imagine her fucking face when she realises that everything that’s happened in the last eight years is based on a lie. Barry never abused me, no one did. I made the whole thing up.

She wrecked her life for nothing. For worse than nothing.

Fuck me, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

***

‘Gary?’

Still no response.

Ev takes a deep breath. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking, ever since I read that transcript. When she said she thought Daisy could still be alive, you said “I don’t want anything to do with her”. That’s a really odd thing to say about someone you think is dead.’

He looks up, just for a moment, then drops his head again.

‘Did you know? That she was still alive?’

Nothing.

‘Because it didn’t make any sense to me, when I read it. But then I started wondering if maybe she contacted you. You must be on social media, right? It wouldn’t be so hard. And we all know she’s clever.’

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