Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
KAT
Ellie bursts into the flat in a cacophony of noise.
‘Calm down,’ she tells Reggie, peering inside the carrier she holds as the cat lets out an almighty yowl.
I grip my bowl of cereal tighter in the kitchen, knowing that while it’s been three days since we killed Hugh and Gregory, my face still reads like a map of punches.
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Ellie says, placing the carrier on the sofa and opening it. Reggie steps out before turning and glaring at her. If cats could use laser eyes, Ellie would be incinerated.
There’s no chance at peace, though. Hamish, as we’ve named the scruffy little sausage dog after wanting one for so many years, comes trotting into the sitting room and straight over to the couch. He can’t jump up there on his own, so Reggie watches him with disgust, his back arching.
Hamish doesn’t bark. He just sits and watches Reggie, looking both confused and delighted at this new development.
Ellie melts down onto the floor. ‘Well, hello. Who are you?’
Hamish is in her lap in a second, licking her cheek.
‘His name is Hamish.’
Ellie talks to the dog in a baby voice, which seems to excite him. ‘And where on earth did you find a cute little Hamish between Saturday and now?’
Oh, you know, I stole him from a pedophilic murderer whom I killed.
‘He just kept showing up. We had him scanned, but no registered owner.’ I hate lying to her, but the truth is somewhat criminal.
‘He’s so sweet.’
‘Yes, but he also seems to be short of a few brain cells. It’s endearing, but he’s fallen off the bed countless times already.’
I’m dreading her looking at me. My bruises have turned into a mixture of dark red and that horrible yellowy green. A long top hides most of them, but not the ones on my face.
Hamish flops over in her lap, demanding belly rubs.
Reggie gives a final hiss and darts along the back of the sofa, making for his room.
Giving a yip of excitement, Hamish goes after him, dancing around the bed while Reggie lies down.
Content that the dog can’t get up, Reggie sets about having a bath.
When I turn back round, I notice Ellie staring.
‘Jesus, Kat. What the hell happened to your face?’
What do you say to that? Any excuse will sound as false as it is.
‘Nothing,’ I say. The minute her eyes soften as she comes closer, I know I’ve only made things worse.
‘Kat.’ Ellie stops in front of me, her eyes cataloguing my injuries. ‘This isn’t nothing. Did Liam—?’
Oh shit.
‘No. God no.’
‘It’s okay. I love him, but I won’t stand for this. Is this why you wouldn’t come back to the hospital? Does he hurt you?’
I grab her hand and squeeze. ‘Ellie, listen to me. I promise it isn’t that. Liam would never hurt me.’
Well, not unless I beg real prettily.
‘Then what the fuck is going on? Liam ends up in hospital looking half dead. You look like you’ve been scrapping. You both keep disappearing and cancelling on me. Everything's changed ever since you and Liam got together, and I don’t know why you keep freezing me out.’
‘Ellie…’
‘Don’t give me more bullshit. Something's going on, and I don’t like it. Stop freezing me out.’
It’s killing me to keep my best friend in the dark, but what choice do I have? Telling her endangers us all. And for what? It’s not like she’s going to want to be besties with a bloody murderer.
‘I can’t…’
Ellie’s brows raise, her voice dipping. ‘Can’t, or won’t?
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes, it fucking matters!’ Her voice cracks as she raises it.
‘First, Sam disappears on me. Then I get cool real fast about you fucking my brother behind my back, and now you treat me like I’m a stranger.
Freddie came in all hot and excited, and I’ve barely heard from him in days.
I’ve had it up to here with everyone's fucking bullshit.’
Ellie snaps one hand up next to her head to illustrate her point.
I feel even worse. Because Freddie being quiet figures when we sent him into a crime scene. Fingers crossed he hasn’t fucked things up, and we’ll be able to keep his silence if we ever need to.
The bedroom door opens, and Liam staggers out, bleary-eyed and not quite fully back to standing without a wobble. He clutches his side as he walks, having aggravated his ribs on Saturday.
Liam takes in the scene; Ellie's raised voice must have woken him.
She looks from him to me before her lips draw into a tight line. ‘You don’t have to protect me from whatever’s going on. You can trust me.’
‘It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe,’ Liam says, moving over and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
‘Safe. From. WHAT?’ Ellie punctuates each word with a little rasp of rage.
Neither of us has an answer. Not without spilling out a bucket of worms that will take on a life of their own.
Silence stretches, growing more awkward with every passing second. I want to reach out and hug my best friend. To confide in her and know she has my back, but this isn’t about being dumped by a boy or hating my parents. This is cold-blooded revenge.
‘Fine,’ she sighs, wiping her eyes. ‘Whatever it is that’s so bad, I want you to know I love you both. And I’m on your side no matter what. Unconditionally.’
God, I hope we never have to put that to the test.
‘Ellie,’ I say. But I have nothing to follow it up with.
She’s done with the conversation. Scooping up her bag, she leaves, slamming our door behind her.
The floor is cold when I slide down onto it, feeling utterly drained. Liam slides right down next to me. Well, half slides, half grunts and twists while holding his ribs.
‘She doesn’t deserve this,’ I say, resting my head against Liam’s shoulder. Hamish appears, sees the human cuddle puddle and climbs into my lap.
‘I know. It’ll be okay. We’re nearly there.’ Liam rubs Hamish’s chin, making the silly dog wriggle.
‘We might lose everyone anyway.’ The fear of it’s been growing with every kill. The odds of us surviving and completing the list might have increased, but with each one, the chance of discovery grows.
Reggie sits in the doorway eyeing us. He refuses to come any closer until Liam grabs some cat biscuits. Then he bumps Hamish out of the way and chows down, begrudgingly accepting pets.
‘Three to go,’ Liam whispers, kissing my hair.
One of whom is Ashworth.
I have a feeling he’s not going to go quietly.