One by One (2 page)

‘Have you searched the loft?' I asked him.

‘I had a look up there earlier,' he said. ‘Right now, this house is as secure as it's ever going to be and there are no bad guys hiding anywhere.'

But I wasn't convinced. For much of the rest of the afternoon, I explored the downstairs rooms, looking for hidden entrances, hidden passageways – anything that might explain how Louise and then Charlie had been killed. I tapped walls, lifted up paintings, ran my fingers along acres of skirting. But in the end, I found nothing.

Eventually night fell and, to take our minds off things, Marla suggested we all cook dinner.

‘Sounds like a good idea to me,' I said and followed her into the kitchen. We found a large joint of beef in the fridge as well as plenty of vegetables. I quickly located the potatoes and vegetable oil and we started preparing a roast. Crispin and Luke sat down at the kitchen table and cracked open a bottle of red, filling glasses for all of us. You wouldn't call the mood convivial – not with two of our number dead – but it's amazing how a bit of cooking can add a sense of normality to any situation.

We got through the first bottle of wine in barely twenty minutes, and I located Charlie's wine store and dug out a 2011 Fleurie. The alcohol was giving me a much-needed warm feeling. To be honest, I'd had a problem with alcohol in the past. I became too dependent on it in my twenties, managed to wean myself off it when I was pregnant with Lily, and then when I lost her I kind of went off the edge of a cliff and was a full-on drunk until finally my mother dragged me to rehab. Since then my relationship with booze has been calmer, and more off than on, but tonight I truly thirsted for its embrace, even though it was the last thing any of us needed.

The Fleurie lasted longer than the first bottle, but it still wasn't that long until we were on to number three.

‘Does anyone know where the gravy is?' asked Marla.

‘In here,' I said, pulling a tub of Bisto from one of the overhead cupboards.

‘You seem to know where a lot of things are, Karen,' said Marla, and there was no mistaking the suspicion in her voice. ‘I've been noticing it ever since we got here. You haven't been here before, have you?'

I laughed. ‘Of course not.' But I didn't look at her as I spoke and I could hear the lie in the words myself. It must have been the alcohol. It was making me lax. Everyone else could hear it too.

‘Karen,' said Marla harshly. ‘You have been here before, haven't you?'

I turned to face her, preparing to lie again, but the intensity of her stare stopped me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the other two staring at me too. I swallowed, paused.

Marla's dark eyes flashed with anger. ‘Tell the truth.'

‘All right, I have.'

The three of them expressed various levels of shock and Marla demanded to know when, and why I hadn't mentioned it before.

‘I had an affair with Charlie,' I said reluctantly, pulling out my cigarettes and lighting one, knowing I couldn't tell this story without a smoke. ‘It started at the funeral. For my daughter, Lily. Charlie attended. I wasn't expecting him and when he did turn up, it was the first time I'd seen him since we'd left uni. We had a quick chat back at the house afterwards. I was in a state of complete shock, just numb really, and Charlie said that if I ever needed to talk then I should call him. He gave me his business card.' I sighed. ‘Things were going bad between Jeff and me at the time. They had been even before Lily passed, but they just got worse after that. I called Charlie a few weeks afterwards. He suggested we meet for lunch, so we did and we talked for hours. He was sympathetic and I really did literally cry on his shoulder. In hindsight I know he was just being predatory, but I was in a very fragile state and I guess I just fell for it.' I paused, took another drink of the wine. ‘The affair didn't last long. No, that's a lie. It probably lasted six months, but we didn't see each other that often. Charlie let it be known that he wouldn't be leaving his wife and, to be honest, I didn't want him to. I don't think I even knew what I was doing. I just wanted comfort, some kind of intimacy, however snatched and fake it was, and Charlie was just in the right place at the right time, and, like all charmers, he knew which buttons to press. Eventually, though, I came to my senses and finished it. It was all very amicable. In fact he was pretty relieved and I didn't see him again until last night, but yes, I came here with him once. I hated it then. And I hate it now.'

I drew on the cigarette, blowing out smoke towards the ceiling, relieved that I'd finally got it out in the open. It had been weird seeing Charlie last night and not being able to make any mention of our shared time together, however brief and unfulfilling it had been.

But the reaction I got was nothing like I'd been expecting.

It was Marla who spoke first, her tone cold. ‘Well, that explains a lot.'

I frowned. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You're the one who things keep happening to. It was
you
' – she emphasized the ‘you' – ‘who discovered Louise's body. It was
you
who saw Charlie impaled against a tree – no one else – and it was
you
who got chased by the man with the crossbow but somehow managed to outrun him.'

I looked at her aghast. ‘What on earth are you insinuating? That Charlie and I are behind all this?'

‘It's definitely a theory.'

‘You've been keeping very calm today,' said Luke accusingly, getting to his feet. His cheeks were pink and I noticed he'd been caning the wine. ‘Especially after everything that's happened. You even fell asleep.'

‘That's because I was fucking exhausted. Just because I had a brief thing with Charlie five years ago when I was mourning the death of my baby daughter does not mean that I'm now in cahoots with him, planning to murder you all.'

‘Then why didn't you mention your affair with him?' demanded Marla.

‘Why should I? You didn't mention that you and Crispin have obviously been seeing plenty of each other.'

‘I don't know what…'

‘Oh, please. It's fucking obvious.' My voice was loud and I was beginning to sound hysterical, even though I was more in control of my emotions now than I had been all weekend.

‘All right, all right, that's enough.' It was Crispin speaking now. He was on his feet with his palms stretched outwards in a gesture of calm. ‘Yes, Marla and I have been in contact. We met up again a few years ago and we've stayed friends since then, although we don't see much of each other.'

‘Why didn't you ever stay friends with me, Cris?' asked Luke, sounding hurt. ‘I tried getting hold of you a couple of times. You never got back to me.'

Crispin turned towards him but he never got a chance to answer because a second later the kitchen window exploded and something flew through the room, striking the far wall.

Instinctively, we all ducked and I felt on the worktop for my knife, holding it close as I stayed low in case something else came hurtling through the window.

But nothing did. The curtain flapped wildly in the wind and the room felt cold but there was no further assault.

Crispin crawled under the kitchen table and retrieved the missile. It was part of a house brick with a note attached by two rubber bands. He tugged the note free and, still sheltering under the table, inspected it.

‘What does it say?' asked Marla quietly.

This time Crispin didn't try to hide anything. With a resigned sigh, he read out the contents of the note.

‘I HAVE TAKEN TWO LIVES NOW

BUT MY BLOODLUST HAS YET TO BE SATED.

RACHEL SKINNER DEMANDS ANOTHER KILL,

ALREADY THE TRAP HAS BEEN BAITED.

THERE IS NO ESCAPE. IT IS FAR TOO LATE.

LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW TO SEE YOUR FATE.'

‘Oh, Jesus,' whispered Marla. ‘What's he done now?'

‘Don't look,' said Crispin, crumpling up the note and throwing it on the floor. ‘Anyone who puts their face up to that window is going to be an obvious target.'

‘We're all targets in here,' hissed Luke. ‘He could throw a petrol bomb in here and we'd all be burned alive.'

‘Why's he doing this?' Marla's voice was cracking under the pressure now. ‘I didn't kill Rachel. I never touched her. I never touched her!' she screamed, her voice filling the room, the words clearly aimed at the killer, wherever he might be.

The bad voice in my head was shouting at me to panic. To jump up, unlock the door and run for my life. Or just to run the knife I was clutching across my throat and end this whole damned nightmare for ever. I was shaking with fear but I fought to control it. Stay in adult, I repeated to myself, using a phrase my therapist always used. Do not let the anxiety consume you.

‘I never touched Rachel!' shouted Marla again.

‘Shut the fuck up!' I hissed, feeling an intense and sudden burst of rage.

She looked at me, saw something that clearly had the desired effect, and shut her mouth immediately.

‘Quiet, everyone,' snapped Luke. ‘He could be standing right outside the window.' He lowered his voice so that it was barely audible. ‘We've got the wet towels in the hall. If he throws anything in, we can put out the flames. Now it's time to take the fight to him.' He slipped out from underneath the table and switched off the light, then crawled along the floor until he was between Marla and me. He reached up to the hob and lifted the saucepan of boiling water that was going to be used for the vegetables, before creeping out of the room with it.

I heard him go upstairs, his footfall quiet, followed by a great splash of water outside the kitchen window as he upended the saucepan.

A minute later he was back in the kitchen. ‘If there's anyone out there, then they're badly scalded now,' he said quietly.

‘The note said to look out of the window,' said Marla. ‘Did you see what's out there?'

‘He's just taunting us.'

‘Did you see anything?'

‘No. Now we need to wet some more towels. Marla, you and Luke do that. As many as you can. I'll get the beef out of the oven. Karen, can you grab some cutlery and plates? We're going to eat in the lounge on the floor.'

I'm not sure how many of us actually had an appetite after what had just happened but I think we were all happy to have someone taking charge of the situation, even though, as I've said before, I would never have guessed it would be my Crispin. Within a few seconds, we were all following his instructions.

Stay in adult. Stay in adult. Stay in adult.

My whole body was shaking as I clambered round in the gloom, collecting together the plates and cutlery, but I did it, and it was almost with surprise that I found myself alone in the kitchen. I looked at the curtains flapping in the draft caused by the hole the brick had been made.

THERE IS NO ESCAPE. IT IS FAR TOO LATE.

LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW TO SEE YOUR FATE.

I knew I shouldn't look. The killer could be only feet away from me right now, waiting for me. But that voice in my head was insistent. I had to see what fate was in store for me. I had to. Because I knew Crispin was lying. He'd seen something. And it had shaken him. He'd hidden it well but I'd noticed, even if the others hadn't.

Just one look.

It was madness, utter madness. But it was as if I couldn't help myself. I had to see what new horror awaited and so, with trembling fingers, I inched open the curtain and stared out into the rain-smudged night.

There they were in the middle of the lawn, nothing more than faint silhouettes in the darkness, but unmistakeable nevertheless.

Two severed heads sitting atop long stakes.

Louise and Charlie.

That night in the lounge we made a plan. Tomorrow morning, just before first light, we would dress in as many layers as possible using clothes from Charlie's wardrobe, so we were well insulated and at least had some protection against a crossbow bolt. Charlie owned a whole range of outdoor coats so there would be no shortage. Crispin had also found some bike helmets in the loft so we would wear them too. As soon as dawn broke we would set fire to the house and, when we were sure that the flames would take hold, we would exit the front door, armed with our knives, make a bolt for the sea along the path, staying together, then wade into the water until we were almost out of our depth and stay there until help arrived. If nothing else, we'd be able to see the killer coming from a long distance away and it would make his task far harder if he had to wade into the waves to get a shot at us.

To be fair, we all knew the plan was full of holes but it was the best we could manage, and no one wanted to remain trapped in the house any longer. It was, as Luke said in that slightly hackneyed way of his, ‘shit or bust'.

No one mentioned anything more about my affair with Charlie, or Marla and Crispin's own ‘friendship'. Or even what it was that the killer had wanted us to see outside the window. It was all business, the mood tense yet productive. Together at least we had a chance, and I think we all belatedly realized that.

We decided to keep watch through the night in pairs. I think Crispin and Marla wanted to do one shift but Luke and I both vetoed that one. Luke wanted to go with Crispin, his old uni mate who'd somehow neglected to keep in touch with him, but so did I, and because it was more effective to have a man and a woman in each shift, Luke and Marla took the first one, Crispin and I the second, beginning at 2.30 a.m.

I slept fitfully on one of the sofas, only feet away from where Louise had died, my knife at my side. When I did dream, it was about my daughter. My poor, long-gone daughter. In the dream, Lily was sitting in my arms, still a baby, just as she'd been on the day I'd discovered her dead in her cot, aged four months and twenty-two days, but now she was talking like an adult, telling me how she was really looking forward to going to university and making new friends and broadening her horizons. Her dad was in the room with us, stroking my hair, and I think Charlie was there too, saying something, but I couldn't really hear what and anyway I was only interested in my darling, beautiful Lily, the apple of my eye, my life, my world…