‘The packages – severed dolls, photos with my eyes cut out, “murderer” painted along the side of my car. That was you?’ Anna nods. ‘And the envelope in Liv’s bin?’
‘You forgot I’d used the bathroom when we arrived. I left it there hoping you’d find it. I was lucky.’
‘Was there anything else?’
‘I’d alter your Wikipedia page, spread online rumours about you, and I’d move things around your house. I have a key.’
‘You have a key?’ I repeat incredulously. Is there no limit to her intrusion?
‘I got a copy cut so if I knew the house was empty, I could come and go as I pleased. I’d move things around, swap clothes in your wardrobes. I even took your missing Jimmy Choo trainers and dumped them in a Salvation Army clothing bank.’
I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of someone walking around in a pair of trainers worth more than three months of unemployment benefits.
‘You never know what you’re going to find,’ she continues. ‘I’d say more, but I wouldn’t want to let the cat out of the bag. Or, in your case, the garage.’
‘It was you,’ I say, my laugh short and humourless.
‘She was at death’s door when I drove her to the vets’ and she took weeks to recover. Fortunately for me, despite it being illegal, they had never got round to microchipping the cat. She only had a metal address tag on her collar that was easy to remove. Meanwhile, I saw your internet search history and read your emails and realisedyou must’ve developed a conscience and were trying to replace her. So when the vet released the original one to me, I put her in a cattery for a few days until you picked up a second. Then home she came.’
For all these years, she has always been one step ahead of me.
‘I’d use your iPad to report your credit cards stolen or change passwords on websites you regularly access,’ Anna explains. ‘I also learned the password for your email account so I could access it from home. Most of the time, you weren’t sent much of interest, but one day I came across an unread email asking you to rejoin the Party Hard Posse for a tour. I deleted it from the inbox and kept it hidden in the trash can until I’d responded as you, turning them down and telling them how much I disliked every single member. It was only when news broke of the band’s reunion that I put both emails back into the right boxes for you to find if you ever searched for them. And Frankie’s gender reveal party. I’d like to take the credit for that, but all I did was put the idea into your head, knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist making it all about you.’
I don’t let it show, but I’m frustrated by how well she knows me.
‘What was your endgame?’ I ask, unsure if I really want to know the answer.
‘To take everything away from you.’
‘Again.’
‘Yes, again. Until I didn’t want to anymore.’
‘Why?’
Anna recalls how wrongfooted she felt after I found her bleeding in her bathroom and took care of her.
‘You kept checking up on me, making sure I hadn’t hurt myself again,’ she says. ‘There’d been no judgement. And I began to realise that perhaps people can change and that maybe you aren’t the same person now you were when you were a teenager.’
‘But Drew didn’t think the same.’
‘He wasn’t ready to leave you alone. And it’s only today, from what you’ve said, that I understand he had his own agenda for wanting to hurt you. I think you broke his heart and he hated himself for allowing you to do that. If he could kill you, he’d be able to draw a line under the past for both of us.’
‘Did you only target me? What about the others? Jenny, Warren, Zain ... Did you find them?’
‘Oh, I most definitely found them.’
‘When?’
She doesn’t reply, and just looks at me instead, one eyebrow raised as if waiting for me to understand something unspoken. When finally I do, the enormity of it lands like a punch to the gut. I take a moment to compose myself.
‘So Ioana wasn’t your first,’ I say slowly.
My body wants to fold in on itself. I’m sitting opposite a woman who has killed four people. Like them, I’ve crossed her. So why is she telling me this? Am I to be her fifth? A gut feeling tells me I’m not. But that same gut feeling also once told me Anna was harmless.
‘I think I should feel scared of you, so I don’t understand why I’m not,’ I admit. ‘In some ways I’m even relieved. I’ve always thought there was a reason why my life hasn’t panned out as it was supposed to have. I assumed I was just one of those people who was blighted by bad luck and poor decision-making. But now I realise there’s more to it than that. Karma has come calling in the shape of you. I can’t help thinking that if you’d left me inside that bonfire, you’d have a conclusion to your story – and I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering if I should call the police and tell them everything you’ve told me.’
‘Actually, I’m not wondering about that at all, because you won’t be calling anyone,’ she replies confidently.
