Page 52 of The Serial Killer's Sister
He cocks his head to one side. ‘Oh, I think I’ve got the measure of you.’
I flush, embarrassed. He’s seen me lose my temper with a child on a zebra crossing, he’s caught me out in numerous lies and breaking promises, he knows I broke off contact with Henry, which may have led him to murder five women – everything he’s seen has been the absolute worst of me.
‘There are some good bits,’ I say, screwing up my face.
‘I’m used to seeing people at their most vulnerable, Anna. You’re no different.’
He turns away, calling over his shoulder that we need to get moving again. The fluttering in my tummy subsided after I ejected the bile, but now it’s replaced with something else: an ice-cold lump is swelling, filling me up like I’m freezing from the inside out. A violent shiver judders up my spine and I begin to shake all over. There’s nothing I can do to stop Henry, I realise. Today will play out the way he wants it to; he’s the one with all the power. I thought I was in control of my future, but maybe that was an illusion. From that date – the thirteenth of May, seventeen years ago – it’s been Henry who could dictate what happened and when. I was a fool to believe we’dbothtake our secret to the grave.
Once I’m on the road again, I switch the heater on. But it doesn’t seem to abate my shakes. They’re more fear than temperature induced, I realise. I sing to myself – ‘Wonderwall’, a comfort song from long ago, forcing my mind to go elsewhere, not to dwell on the destination. The words die on my lips as I spot the small lane branchingoff to the left just ahead of me. I indicate and check DI Walker is following as I take the turn.
His car has backed off a little, the track becoming rough, uneven. Probably doesn’t want to damage the underside of his fancy car on tree roots and mounds of earth, so he’s taking it slowly. My car, on the other hand, bumps wildly. I jerk about as if I’m being thrown around during a washing machine cycle, my head knocking against the inside of the car door several times before I reach the small clearing. I park up, but I don’t get out, taking a moment for my head to stop spinning.
After some steadying breaths, I scan the area. Is Henry there, in the trees, watching me? The Audi draws up next to me and I see DI Walker doing the same – conducting a visual sweep of the area. He reaches down and I lose sight of him for a few seconds before his head bobs back up and he gets out of the car. I think he’s got a gun. A cold trickle of fear runs down my back. I remember that he said he’d ensure reinforcements were close by, and feel a wave of relief.
‘You ready?’ DI Walker ducks down at my window. I nod, grab my jacket and get out. My legs don’t seem as though they’ll hold me up; they feel spongy as I walk. DI Walker holds onto my arm, so I’m guessing it’s clear just how wobbly I’m feeling. I have to at leastappearstronger – I refuse to allow Henry to take every shred of my self-worth and dignity.
As we make our way into the woodland, it’s like I’ve somehow stepped back in time. Each tree, each patch of ground has a familiarity to it that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I evenfeellike I did the last time I was here, the way listening to a certain song can transportyou back to the specific time when it meant something to you. I’m charged with electricity. A sense of anticipation. Only this anticipation is for something very different than before.
‘Where exactly are you taking us?’ DI Walker stops, looking back at the way we’ve come. ‘How far are we going?’
‘Not far,’ I say, my breathing laboured.
‘The cars will still be in sight? We shouldn’t stray too far—’
‘We have to go where we have to go,’ I say, somewhat cryptically, I realise. But he’ll understand soon.
‘There were no other vehicles. Are you sure he’s going to be here?’
‘He’ll be here.’ I don’t know Henry any more, if I ever did, but there’s a certainty in my gut. ‘I’ve got the right place, detective.’
‘How can you be so sure? I know the riddle saidMeet me where the lie was spoke, but could there be a chance it’s somewhere else he meant?’
‘Nope.’
I hear him give a huff, followed by a curse as he bats away some low foliage. ‘You’re the boss,’ he mutters.
I stop, turning sharply back to face him. ‘That’s the last thing I am. Henry is in charge here.’ For a moment we are locked in each other’s gazes and something behind his eyes shifts. He blinks rapidly a few times and looks over my head, towards something beyond. ‘Is that where we’re going?’
Turning around I see the gap in the trees ahead. And something solid in the centre. I swallow hard, a sense of dread spreading rapidly through me. I put my handto my chest; the thud of my heart vibrates against my palm.
‘Yes. That’s it.’ My words, no more than a whisper, are immediately stolen by the breeze sighing through the trees. DI Walker gently moves me to one side, stepping in front of me.
‘Stay back,’ he says, drawing a gun from his waistband. A breath catches in my throat. I knew that’s what he was getting when I saw him reaching down in his car. He holds it out now, sweeping it left to right as he checks the area. He indicates it’s safe for me to carry on.
‘Why do you have a gun?’ I ask when we’re level.
‘I know it’s not routine – and firearms support isn’t far away – but I didn’t want to risk …’ He pauses, giving me a look I can’t read.
‘Risk what?’ I prompt.
‘I didn’t want to risk losing you.’
I’m not sure how he means this – in an entirely professional “I don’t want another woman to die on my watch” type way, or a more personal “I don’t want you to die because I like you”.
‘Right, okay. Good,’ I say. ‘Then we’re on the same page.’ I attempt a smile.
We’re almost where I need to be now, but my feet refuse to move any closer. I stand, rigid, squeezing my hands at my sides.
