‘And what about your own kid? What state will he be in if you’re behind bars?’
For once, Zimmerman was correct. With no other choice, Bruno laid the unconscious child on a sofa inside the summerhouse with a blanket covering her body.
‘Your mum will be home soon,’ Bruno said gently. ‘I promise you’ll be okay. I’m so, so sorry.’ And after dumping her wheelchair next to her, he found the key in the lock, secured it, and ran.
The last time he had experienced such guilt, he had been leaving Louie at the residential unit, but at least he’d had his son’s best interests at heart. Today it felt much, much worse.
Chapter 61
CHARLIE, MANCHESTER
The days following Milo’s death were a performance. Charlie mustered up his finest acting skills to impersonate a friend consumed by grief.
He dutifully attended Milo’s funeral service at the Manchester Reform Synagogue, then his burial, and planned to participate in a tribute football match the following week. Their mutual friends spent more time together than usual, supporting one another, sharing memories or blaming themselves for not spotting the signs that Milo was struggling.
None were aware that Charlie had a room in the hotel from which Milo had fallen or that he had been questioned by police as to whether he had heard or seen anything that night. The hotel prided itself on the privacy of its guests, many of whom were celebrities staying on Charlie’s floor and the two above it, so there were no security cameras.
The disinterested detective hadn’t asked if Charlie had known the deceased and he hadn’t volunteered the information. Charlie’s impression was that the investigation was routine as there was no reason to suspect foul play.
‘He was the most level-headed of all of us,’ a tearful Andrew had told Charlie. ‘It just doesn’t make sense why he’d do that. He had everything to live for.’
‘You can neverreallyknow a person,’ Charlie responded. ‘No matter how much you think you do. We all hold something back.’
Less than thirty minutes after killing Milo, Charlie climbed inside a hot bath. He replayed Milo’s split second of confusion as he was pushed to his death. It was a spontaneous act that had even taken his killer by surprise. If Charlie were capable of the emotion, he might even have been envious of his pal’s weightless descent through the sky like a swooping bird.
The murder was cruel and undeserved and a waste of a life. But for Charlie it had served an important purpose. Its failure to bring him grief, or regret, or to even prick his conscience meant that he knew for certain he was never going to be the same man as he had been. It was something he had to accept.
He had heard on the grapevine that Milo’s father was in the process of setting up a mental health charity in his son’s name to encourage young men to freely discuss their emotional well-being. Charlie vowed to make a generous but anonymous donation because it seemed like something the old Charlie might have done. More and more frequently, he was relying on that version of himself to be the moral compass for his replacement.
When he wasn’t with the others, Charlie spent his time either at work coaching clients or with Alix. She’d lavished attention on him since Milo’s death, and he wondered if she was trying to be supportive or if she was concerned that he too might be harbouring dark thoughts he didn’t want to share. He was, but not ones he could tell anyone.
Milo’s death didn’t monopolise Charlie’s thoughts, though. It was the deaths of Karczewski and the MinderSinéad that preoccupied him. He had taken to purchasing more second-hand tablets to use once only in public areas, and piggyback other people’s hotspots and Wi-Fi. Then he’d dispose of the devices, leaving the faintest possible online footprint.
He visited alternate locations multiple times daily to log back into his conspiracy theory message board and check for theories about Karczewski. There were scores of suggestions as to why his handler’s death had vanished from newsfeeds but none he gave credence to.
Today, he was rereading them in Alix’s flat, using her neighbour’s unsecured connection. Before he logged out for the evening, he glanced at other subject headings.
#Manmade Pandemics
I have evidence they’ve all been bio-engineered to monitor us – why won’t the authorities listen?
#The truth behind Stonehenge
An extinct race of giants called the Nephilim created it
#The Illuminati are real – here’s proof
It was created to bring chaos to an orderly world
#Hacking Collective is Government Sanctioned
A state-developed scheme for ethnic cleansing
#Match Your DNA is bullshit
It’s a modern-day cult to keep us under control
They would kill to know what I know, Charlie thought. And for a moment, his fingers hovered above the keyboard as he was tempted to give them the truth about everything from protected government paedophiles and patentedviruses to UFO sightings and Deep State civil servants who were really in control of the country.
