Page 33 of Death Kiss

‘Yeah, we’ll be there. Looking forward to seeing you already.’ Kat leans over the bar and pulls me into a cuddle.

Freddie sips his beer while she leaves, before smiling at me. ‘I don’t think she likes me much.’

‘You’re a stranger who tried to pry into her life the minute you met her. What did you expect. You need to work on your bedside manner.’ I sweep a cloth over the bar.

‘My bedside manner is much better.’

I blush again.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ I need to kick myself in the arse to remind myself that this man is here to find my missing boyfriend. Not to flirt with.

But as the conversation draws on, I can’t help but picture the way that Kat looked when she heard Freddie’s name. Almost like she recognised it. I’ve never seen her read a newspaper, so I doubt it’s from his articles.

FOURTEEN

LIAM

Saliva coats my tongue as my foster mum, Sandra, dishes out roast beef so tender it falls apart at the touch of the plate. There’s no doubt about it; she’s a damned good Sunday roast provider. The potatoes have a crunch to die for, while staying soft and fluffy inside. Perfection.

And the gravy? Hell, she could make millions bottling the stuff. Her Sunday roasts were one of the things that softened me to their family at the beginning. I kept telling myself I’d run away next Monday. Then one more roast dinner. And one more.

Turns out, my scared, rebellious youth was tamed but a good feed.

And a heavy dose of low-pressure understanding.

Kat moans beside me as she takes a mouthful of drippy beef. She’s become a fellow Sandra-dinner addict. We don’t always make it here every week, especially lately, but it warms me that Sandra opened her arms up and ushered Kat in like it was nothing.

Even Reggie adores it here. I glance under the table and see him feasting on a bit of meat, likely snuck down there by Colin, Sandra’s long-term boyfriend, who can’t resist his kitty eyes.

You’d think Reggie was a dog with the way he begs at the dinner table. Who can blame him when everyone else gets a whole plate to themselves. He’s probably under there plotting how to kill me and steal my beef. The narrowed look he gives me does nothing to convince me otherwise.

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

‘Another yorkshire, love?’ Sandra asks Kat, holding out the basket of crispy puddings.

‘No thank you,’ she says.

I, however, have no such qualms. Sandra smiles indulgently when I take two extra and add them to my already loaded plate.

‘You two look like you’re in need of a good feed,’ Sandra says, taking her seat and tucking her napkin into the collar of her blouse. ‘You’ve not been living off ramen again, have you?’

‘I only did that once,’ I say, tipping more gravy onto my plate.

‘For six months,’ Ellie adds through a mouthful of broccoli.

‘Ramen’s a perfectly viable food source.’ I point out.

‘Mhmm, but people usually add protein and veggies,’ Sandra says.

‘I survived.’ Sandra tries to cover the wince when I say that. They are just teasing, but I’ve survived longer on a lot less food than I did with my big ass box of ramen. Not long after that, Sandra started dropping off casseroles and didn’t really stop until I moved in with Kat.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she turns up with a fridge full by Tuesday after seeing us not taking care of ourselves.

We were doing okay until the last few weeks. Since graduation, things have begun to slide. Turns out killing people and concealing their murders puts more strain on you than you’d imagine.

Ellie is excitedly chatting about her trip, getting so close to raising enough to go for a full year. Albeit she’s currently intending to stay at bargain-basement, everything-kind-of places. A worry when she’s on her own.

‘God, I can’t wait. After… well, you know… I just need to get away from all the sad stares and questions.’ Ellie sighs, and Sandra reaches out to pat her hand.