Page 62 of The Serial Killer's Sister
But I’ve already wasted a minute or more thinking, not acting. Dean will easily catch up to me and shoot me in the leg as threatened. No, my only real option is to escape the binding, remove the tape from my mouth. I can’t feel my lips. An awful thought occurs to me: what if I can’t speak even if I do manage to get it off?
My breathing is erratic, pushing my heart rate up too. Regrets and thoughts of things I still want to do in my life swamp my mind, and all I can do is cry. The tears settle on the tape before rolling down over it, and I experience a thrill of hope. Will getting it wet affect the stickiness? I allow the tears to come, all the while twisting my mouth against the tape, forcing my lips to part enough to push my tongue through them. The adhesive tastes metallic – or maybe that’s blood. I groan, and the realisation it’s more audible than before makes my pulse race. This small success reignites my desire to get free. I suck in a tiny bit of air through my mouth, the first I’ve managed. It’s nowhere near enough, but it’s a start, and the tears turn to ones of relief.
I freeze at the sound of breaking twigs and direct my gaze to the source.He must be coming back.A figure slowly emerges from the clearing, but Dean’s movements are hampered. He’s dragging something.
Someone.
Oh, my God. It’s Ross. Has to be.
What have you done?
My heart nearly stops when I see who he’s got.
Not Ross.
Serena. Her body is limp, her arms hanging loosely, her legs trailing. She’s not reacting to being hauled across the forest floor. Is she dead?
‘It was you and your friend here seventeen years ago,’ Dean says, his breathing rapid from his exertion. ‘I thought it only fitting you should have a friend here now.’ He drops Serena to the ground, swipes at his forehead and whistles. ‘That was farther than I realised. You are challenging me, Anna.’ He smiles. ‘I made sure I didn’t haveto move the other women too far for this very reason, after the first.’
I smack my heels into the ground, thrash my body as much as I can – anything in an attempt to release the burning rage and frustration inside me. I hear Dean laugh. I’m giving him exactly what he wants. I clamp my teeth together, screw my eyes up tightly and take a noisy, ragged breath in through my nose. How can I make him see?Think, think!
Serena lets out a groan. She’s alive. Instant relief is replaced with the gut-wrenching realisation that things are about to get a lot worse – that the end result will be a painful, horrific death for both of us unless I do something drastic. I use my legs to scoot myself closer to Serena. I lean down towards her face as her eyes spring open and I see the absolute terror reflected in them. She opens her mouth wide to scream, but I shake my head, my eyes wide and begging –don’t make a sound–please, God, don’t make a sound. She seems to understand and clamps a hand over her mouth. Her skin is pallid. A tender-looking red lump sits below her left eye and the lid of her other eye is swollen. Blood is caked beneath her nostrils, and splatters of it cover her pale blue jumper.
‘I’m sorry, Anna,’ she says, her voice a whisper.
I narrow my eyes, questioningly.Why is she the one apologising?I look towards Dean, who’s standing with his arms crossed, watching with a satisfied look on his face. The cat that got the cream.
‘Go on, Serena. Do let Anna in on it,’ he says.
A shudder jolts my body.Let me in on what?My mind scrambles with a sudden influx of thoughts. When I’d found the link between Craig Beaumont and NeilHolsworthy, I’d jumped to the conclusion that Henry had used it to his advantage to get to me. Or that CraigwasHenry. And yesterday, when Serena had mentioned the hacked CCTV, I’d felt a pang of unease because I knew I hadn’t told her about it. I explained her knowledge of it away, thinking that she must have seen it on the Facebook group … but was I too quick in dismissing my concern? I stare at my friend, searching for a hint of betrayal in her face. Henry is dead and it’s been Dean tormenting me. Now he has Serena here, but apparently not as an ally. So whatisher involvement?
Has my friend really been my enemy all this time?
‘She’s slow on the uptake, Serena. You’re going to have to help her out.’ Then he turns to me. ‘As you can see, she’s a bit dazed. Give her a second.’
‘I didn’t mean to help him,’ she whimpers. My heart drops, her apology now making sense. But she was tricked – has to have been. Tears stream down Serena’s face as I glare at her. ‘He manipulated me. I should’ve known he was too good to be true.’
“He was too good to be true?” What? A wave of nausea crashes through me as realisation hits.Hewas who Serena was seeing. The new man in her life, Tim, was DI Walker. Dean. My head reels. Unwittingly, Serena was feeding Dean information he needed to get close to me, play with me. He kept her close so that he could use her until, like me, she was surplus to requirements.
‘Just as you took the person I loved the most from me, ruined any chance I had at living a normal life, I set out to destroy yours by taking away what you’ve gained through your lies and deceit. I wanted you to suffer, so I instilled fear, drove you to behave erratically, tarnishedyour good –fake, by the way – reputation. You made it pretty easy for me to take your job – the zebra crossing incident was perfect, thank you. I was following you, and saw it all happen. Being a detective gave me all the access I needed to utilise it quickly. And then I took your husband from you. Now I’m going to take the only real friend you have left, after you killed your other one.’ My heart sinks as I see Serena’s eyes widen at this. She flashes me a confused look. ‘Yep, that’s right, Serena.’ Dean bends down between us, takes the roll of tape, and wraps it around Serena’s wrists. ‘Your friend here, she’s a killer.’
‘Anna?’ Her expression is one of incredulity, and there’s nothing I can do to convince her he’s lying. One, because he’s not, and two, without the ability to speak, I can’t convey what’s needed in a mere look.
‘Anna,’ Dean says, putting his index finger under my chin and tilting it up. ‘You’re both going to die today, the thirteenth of May – the date you tried so very hard to keep from DI Walker. It was amusing at first, watching you squirm when I asked about the significance of it. But your repeated denial of any knowledge of why Henry might be killing a woman on that day each year began to really piss me off. Like you were denying any existence of my sister. Pretending you didn’t kill her then run away and leave her to rot. I hope you feel bad that you never once questioned Henry’s guilt during your involvement in the murder case. You wanted him to be responsible, didn’t you? Then, when it eventually came to light, you could pin Kirsty’s murder on him, too. Some sister you are.’
I let out a howl, like a dying animal, and stamp my feet again. I get as close to him as I can and stare at him,trying to force eye contact. He rolls his eyes while I plead with mine.
See me! Let me speak!
‘Stop with the dramatics, Anna. That’s my domain. I’m killing her first,’ he says, kicking Serena’s leg with the tip of his boot. ‘I need to know that as you lie dying, it’s filled with the pain of knowing it’s your fault your best friend died too.’
Serena’s breaths grow loud, more rapid, and I’m desperate to wrap my arms around her, protect her from him. She tries to scuttle away, but Dean grips the back of her jumper. Her legs flail frantically but she gets nowhere and gives up. Tears glisten on her cheeks. ‘Why are you doing this, Tim –Dean?’ she rasps. Is she genuinely interested in the answer, I wonder, or is she trying to buy us time now that she fully realises the predicament we’re in?
Dean either doesn’t consider the possibility or doesn’t care either way, and seems to embrace the opportunity to rattle off the highlights. While his attention is on her, I work on loosening the tape on my hands and mouth.
‘After I killed Henry I hid his body in a panic, but when I realised how I could use him to my advantage I went back and took samples of his hair, even his fingerprints, so I could leave trace evidence at each scene. Turns out I only needed it for the first one, then as I used similar stage-setting and of course, the pièce de résistance – the needle in the eye – each subsequent murder was linked to Henry Lincoln, anyway.’ He pauses, glancing at each of us in turn. ‘Genius, don’t you think?’
Serena stares at him, her head nodding. ‘You used your position in the Major Crime Unit to your full advantage, then.’ Her voice is quiet, and she speaks the words likeshe’s impressed, which pleases Dean, but I know her better – she’s only trying to tell him what she thinks he wants to hear.
