Page 63 of The Serial Killer's Sister
‘Exactly. Being centre stage on this investigation gave me all the insight I needed, and I was able to plant my ideas, theories, evidence – manipulate the case so it fitted what I needed it to. Trust me, when there’s a killer on the loose, especially a serial killer, there’s a shitload of pressure to arrest someone – it’s so easy to make the evidence fit with the suspect rather than remain open-minded and allow the evidence to lead you to the right person. No one, literally no one, suspected I was pulling the strings, that it was me committing the murders.’ His face twists with a chilling smile. ‘Ah, God. It’s both hilarious and depressing at the same time, isn’t it?’ He grins at me and even though it’s disdain that I feel, I give him a beseeching look in the vain hope he’ll remove the tape so I can speak.
Serena’s fearful expression changes, as though a switch has flicked, and she frowns. Shakes her head. Dean narrows his eyes, his face darkening.
‘What?’ he snaps.
‘And you’re sure you’ve covered your tracks?’ she asks. I hear the shake in her voice, but then she sits more upright, jutting her chin forward. She continues, more confidently, ‘You believe you’ll never be suspected of any of this, even when police find our bodies here?’
‘I didn’t say I’d be leaving your bodies here to be found, did I? The other women were staged, meant to be seen. Otherwise I’d never have got to Anna. I’m done now, once you’re both dead. I don’t need anything from you. No one will find out.’
Serena’s breath hitches and I watch on, helplessly, as her fear returns, her face contorting. ‘People will report us missing,’ she says, desperately. ‘You’ve been seen at both our houses. There’s only so much more you can manipulate before all eyes and theories turn to you.’
‘I know what you’re doing.’ He paces, waving the gun around. ‘My plan is sound. There’s no hard evidence linking me to anything. Try harder.’
‘If Henry’s body is found, that will change everything.’
Dean’s jaw tightens and his lip twitches violently. I can see it even in the diminishing light. She’s angered him by questioning his ability to hide his crimes.
He lunges at her, ripping off more duct tape and covering her mouth too now.
‘Enough talking.’
Serena’s eyes are wide, desperate, as he moves towards her feet.
This is it. He’s making sure she can’t run. Can’t lash out with her legs when he’s killing her. My heart hammers hard against my ribs. If I don’t do something now, it’s going to be too late. I’ve only released the tape on my mouth enough to take tiny breaths, but I push my tongue as forcefully as I can against it and cry out.
‘Stop. Wait.’ The words don’t form the way they sound in my head – they’re distorted, muffled. Unintelligible. Dean grabs my ankles and jerks me towards him. The skin on my back is exposed and burns as it skids across the ground. My shoulder joints feel like they’re being ripped from their sockets as my arms are pulled in the wrong direction. I yelp, sob, but Dean ignores me as he binds my legs. When he’s done, he drags Serena over to the well, pulls her up and forces her to sit on the edge.
My ears fill with a pulsating, whooshing noise like the sound of crashing waves at Ness Cove and I wish above all else that I was there now, with Ross, living out a quiet, uncomplicated life.
As he hauls me to my feet and places me next to Serena, I know it’s too late for any of that.
Chapter 45
Despite the tape on our mouths, our combined, panicked sobbing is so intense now it drowns out Dean’s voice. I see his lips moving but I can’t hear what he’s saying. He stomps back and forth in front of us, his fingers dragging through his hair. Eventually, Serena becomes quiet and still, as though the inevitability of the situation has muted her. But my wails grow louder.
‘Shut up, shut up. Shut. Up!’ Dean aims the gun at me and my cries extinguish as quickly as snuffing out the flame of a candle. I hold my breath and turn to look at Serena. My fear is reflected in her expression. She blinks, moving her eyes towards Dean. She’s desperately trying to communicate something to me. She indicates towards my legs, then hers. Nods her head three times.
Okay. I’ve got it. On the count of three, both of us kick our legs out at Dean. Maybe with enough force, he’ll fall to the ground.But then what?Even if we both jumpon him, putting all our collective weight on him, without the use of our hands he’ll soon recover and use the gun. It’ll be futile.
Better than giving up and letting him kill us both easily, though.At least we’ll die with the knowledge we put up a worthy fight. There’s some dignity in that.
‘Hey. Hey.’ Dean slaps the barrel of the gun across Selena’s head. ‘Stop with the communication.’ He takes a few steps back until he’s far enough away that neither of our legs can reach him. I should remember that he’s a detective – he’s perceptive and has likely seen all the tricks in the book. Hope collapses in on itself and I start to pray for a swift death. That’s not his aim, though; I know that. He wouldn’t have gone to these lengths if he were merely going to put a bullet through my brain.
I twist around on the stone wall of the well and peer down into the abyss, my stomach dropping.
Dean thinks he has the control – thinks he can choose how I die. If I take that away from him, he’ll lose. If I fling myself backwards it’ll ruin his plan. I could end this now, myself.
And one day, when he’s caught, and our bodies are found – the truth will all be revealed.
That’ll teach him.
My eyes sting with tears as my plan plays out in my mind, my heart fluttering like a trapped animal. I’ve run out of choices. I’m about to make peace with my decision – after all, what have I left to live for anyway? – when a voice in my head screams:You saved yourself before – you can do it again. I wriggle my hands, furiously twisting and pulling them. Serena clocks what I’m doing and gives me an encouraging nod. She shuffles to the left, awayfrom me, drawing Dean’s attention to her in the hope I can get my hands free without him realising.
‘Where are you going?’ he says to her. He presses his hands down on Serena’s thighs, preventing further movement. I keep an eye on them, while I manipulate my hands to create more space. I feel the tape give some more, the progress increasing my adrenaline so much my body seems to vibrate with it.
Nearly there. I’ve almost got enough room to slip my hand out.
Dean’s full attention is on Serena. He’s telling her how he did like her, how it wasn’t all fake. The sex was good, he says, and in a different set of circumstances he reckons they’d have been a great couple had they been able to continue dating. Had she lived long enough. I hear Serena make a weird sound in her throat and assume she’s disagreeing with both his evaluation and his prediction.
