‘Nothing.’ His voice is high. ‘I look, that’s all. I’ve never touched her, hardly even spoken to her. I swear to God she’s lying to you.’
‘Shut your fucking mouth.’ I cuff him, splitting his lip. ‘You don’t get to accuse her of anything, you creepy little fuck.’
Pot. Kettle. I suppose. Greg folds in on himself.
‘The notes,’ I prompt, watching the way he reacts.
He stares at me, confusion widening his eyes. ‘What notes?’
The fear in his face is real, and he’s far too much of a pussy to be out stalking my girl. His frame doesn’t seem quite right up close, either.
He has no idea what I’m talking about, but I still intend to scare the shit out of him, so he’ll never fucking look at Kat again.
‘Someone has been following her,’ I say, quietly. ‘Leaving notes. And scaring her in her own home.’ I put my forearm across his throat and crush forward until my hearts are the only thing he can see. ‘Promise me it’s not you.’
‘It’s not.’ The words come out as a broken sob. ‘Idon’t even know where she lives. I’ve never followed her. I cornered her that one time, but that was it.’
‘But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?’
The silence answers that question.
‘She is not yours to think about,’ I growl. ‘Not to look at. Not to be in the same room as if you can avoid it. And you’regoingto start avoiding it.’
His face is growing purple. ‘If I hear you’ve even sniffed in her fucking direction, I’ll come back. And next time I won’t be asking questions. If you look at her, I’ll gouge your eyes out and make you eat them. If you touch her, I’ll burn the skin off while you beg for your life.
I pause long enough to take a ragged breath. ‘Have I made myself clear?’
A tear tracks down his purpling cheek as he nods.
‘Say it.’
‘I understand. I won’t go near her. Never again.’ His words are a strangled whisper.
I step back, and he sags against the wall, ducking his head down and his shoulders heaving. He’s a coward with a wandering eye, and I’m fairly certain nothing to do with the notes.
I cross him off my mental list.
‘If I hear otherwise…’
‘You won’t,’ he says into his thighs. ‘I promise. You won’t.’
The biting wind wraps around me as I step out frombelow the underpass. The relief of crossing one name off should feel like progress, but whoever is after Kat is still out there.
Still breathing.
For now.
TWENTY
KAT
Ellie is stompingaround the flat, throwing things into her overnight bag while I sip tea on the couch. She’s asked me twelve times whether I borrowed the good dry shampoo, and is still giving me sceptical glances when she struggles to find it. I’m pretty sure she’s used it all, as it’s as important in the mornings as breakfast to her. More important, probably.
‘I’ll be back Sunday,’ she says, giving up the hunt and hauling her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to pull the bin into the back tonight, otherwise the landlord will get another letter from the crazy lady over the back.’
‘Have a good time,’ I say.
‘I always have a good time at my mum’s. I’ll come back twice the size and with a full bag of clean washing.’She pauses at the door. ‘You’ll be alright here on your own?’
