“Definitely the spare room,” I say, hoping it sounds definitive. “But I need to get some stuff first.”
“Like what?”
“Like a toothbrush, you maniac.” I get up and move through to the living room, where I pause at the shelves. The baseball cap, the feather, the pen. They don’t fit with the rest of the room. “What is all this stuff, by the way?”
“That’s Grace’s psychopath collection.”
“Come again?”
“These are items once owned by serial killers. She’s fascinated by them. Always has been.”
“Sounds healthy.”
“Oh, believe me, it’s far from healthy. But it’s her job.”
“Uh huh.” I stand transfixed in front of the baseball cap. It’s blue, and there’s an eagle stitched just above the brim. How many women died staring at that eagle?
“Bradley, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question. What happened to Caroline Churchwell?”
“Caroline? She worked for us. Years ago. Why?”
“She came up in Grace’s search results. It said she disappeared.”
“Oh, that! She left without telling anyone, I think. There was a bit of stress from her parents, but it was all a mix-up.”
“Oh, OK.” I wish I had read the article, but my phone died before I had a chance. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Don’t be long. I’ll be waiting for you.” He squeezes my hand and mouthsnaked, and against my will, I laugh.
“Bradley!”
“Kidding! Mostly.”
I walk back along the driveway alone. It’s finally getting dark, but despite everything that happened today, I’m not scared. With Bradley’s explanation of Caroline, it’s as if he’s cast a spell and made all the stress and worry of the day disappear. I can hear the final calls of the thrush and robin. Through the canopy, I can make out the glow of a new moon. The world is bigger than I ever imagined it could be. Why didn’t I know that life could be like this? That it could all be this intense? I feel like I’ve wasted so much time grinding away, because I thought that’s all life was—an unceasing series of hardships, until you die.
But it isn’t. It can be more, so much more.
The cottage emerges from the dark wood like an abandoned spacecraft, its aluminum roof glowing silver in the moonlight. Christ, even this dilapidated shack looks strangely beautiful tonight. Bradley, what have you done to me? What have you done to the world?
I open the front door and walk across the room to my torch.
I switch it on, then swing it around the room to find my toothbrush—and immediately let out a scream. The torch drops to the floor and rolls under the bed, casting the room in a dim, eerie glow.
“Brie-like-the-cheese. You’re home at last.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grace is sitting cross-legged at the card table with a faint smile on her lips.
“Hi,” I manage. “You gave me a fright.”
There’s another torch on the table near Grace, but I’m too terrified to move. What is she doing here in the dark?
“Your nerves must be shot,” Grace says. The way she says it, I imagine her marching my nerves in front of a firing squad. “You’re always frightened, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m saying you’re existentially frightened. You live in fear. Just like Bradley.”
