I redo my make-up, add a touch of mascara and a fresh coat of vibrant red lipstick. Then I take the bottle of Baccarat Rouge from my bag – I’d picked up a bottle from Space NK at the train station after my charity shop run – and spray it liberally all over myself, until I start to cough and choke. Opening the window a touch, I check myself out in the mirror. I want to look good, no, I want to lookbetterthan good, when I face my nemesis. I want her to know,to see, that she hasn’t broken me,right before I put a bullet through her messed-up head.
I reach over, open the glove compartment and retrieve the gun. The pockets on my charity shop coat purchase are thankfully deep and roomy, perfect for concealing a weapon. I place it inside before throwing on a pair of reading glasses, check myself in the rear-view mirror. Ideally, I don’t want her to instantly recognise me like I recognised her. She mustn’t. I need a few seconds at least, the element of surprise, to give me time to push my way through the door.
The din of the outside world hits me and I wince as I step out of the car and make my way towards the front entrance of the drab apartment block. The Samantha I knew would neverlive in such shabby-looking accommodation. She really must be slumming it. Though it’s all part of the convincing disguise of course, the act. To be fair to her, I suppose she’s nothing if not dedicated to her craft.
Luck must be on my side today because an older gentleman is in front of me as I reach the entrance, punching the code into the main doors.
‘After you.’ He graciously gestures to me, smiling as he invites me to go before him.
‘That’s so sweet.’ I smile back at him. ‘Thank you. Um…’ I turn to him. ‘You don’t happen to know which apartment my friend lives in, do you?’ I clutch my chest, flashing him a smile as I flutter my eyes. ‘I’ve only been here once before and I’ve clean forgotten it. Her name’s Tilly, Tilly Ward. She’s got brown hair and green eyes, and she…’
‘The deaf girl? Number 66, two floors above.’ He points upwards. ‘I’m the floor below, thankfully.’ He places a shaky hand on his knee. ‘These ain’t what they used to be – and that lift is always on the blink. Bloody disgrace really, what with the service charges they want out of you…’
‘Oh, I know, appalling, isn’t it? Just pure greed at the end of the day. It’s one of the seven deadly sins, you know.’
He gives me a slightly surprised look before he turns away.
‘Yeah, well, God bless you on your way.’ He smiles at me once again.
‘God bless you too.’
I take the stairs. I’m not fond of lifts. And I don’t want to run the risk of seeing too many people. Not that it matters now. I’m already on camera. The final act in this horror story will be caught on film for everyone to see.Coming to an Odeon near you now, rated 18!
But this is what happens, you see, when justice is denied. Sometimes people are forced to take matters into their own hands. And this way, in what is, I realise, one crazy-assed, messed-up, ugly and tragic story,Iget to write the ending, the final chapter. This is where I get the answers I need to reclaim my sanity, to take back the power and the control that she stole from me seven years ago and right the wrongs. Every dog has its day, right? And today it’s mine.
Perhaps I really should’ve worn my onesie.
I stand outside the door of apartment 66. Huh. All it needs is another six at the end and that would be about right. I take a breath. I take two. And then I knock on the door. It really can’t be good for my heart to be beating at the rate it currently is. It feels like it might actually burst, explode inside my chest and kill me. My hand goes up to it as she opens the door.
At first I see the anticipated flicker of surprise, quickly followed by a smattering of confusion, but then, boom! There it is, right there!Recognition. I watch as her expression clouds over and darkens, like a black veil falling over her face.
I give her my best smile.
‘Hello, hun.’
FORTY-SEVEN
DAN
‘But we’ve checked Tilly Ward out,’ Davis says. ‘We would’ve found something by now surely? And there’s no connection between her and Erin Santos.
‘You said yourself that she’s a vulnerable character, you know.’ She points to her ear rather than mention the word ‘deaf’ or ‘hard of hearing’. ‘No rap sheet, no prior, no history of?—’
The door to my office swings open and Archer pokes her head around it.
‘Briefing, twenty-five minutes. Be ready, Riley, Davis…’
We nod in unison.
‘Ma’am.’
She pauses. ‘Are there any new leads? Has Santos called you again?’
‘No, ma’am,’ I answer her on autopilot, my thoughts elsewhere.
‘The boss here thinks that maybe Til—’ Davis starts to speak.
‘Yes, ma’am!’ I cut in loudly. Loudly enough for Archer to glare at me in surprise. I definitely do not want Davis to tell Archer what I think Davis thinks I’m currently thinking about Tilly Ward. Not right yet. I need more proof first.
