Chapter 57 Laura
Laura
She switches off the ignition and recalls how she didn’t stay to find out who the intruder was or why she was there.
Instead, she raced from Damon’s flat, jumping down the staircase two steps at a time, out of the lobby to the road.
Then she continued running for at least a mile, before, exhausted and panting, she came to a halt.
She took a seat inside a bus shelter and cried.
Laura wept for her unfulfilled expectations, for being unable to complete what she’d set out to accomplish and for again putting herself in a vulnerable position.
She should have learned from the mistakes of nine years ago.
Of Ryan. She flinched as she recalled his name.
The pain he’d put her through. But conversely, how he had been the catalyst for the most exciting period of her life.
It had proved impossible to replicate. And God knows, she had tried.
Once she pulled herself together, she retraced her steps to where she had parked her car, close to Damon’s flat, and drove back home to London, stopping off at a motorway service station to find out all she could about him.
She had done a little due diligence before they met, but clearly not enough.
She had allowed her overwhelming desire to be there with him as he exhaled his last breath to cloud her judgement. And that made her angry with herself.
It didn’t take much scrolling through Facebook before she found Damon’s profile. It was set to private, but his banner photograph was a wedding picture. She screwed her face up at his pale green suit: something a laundry basket would spit out.
She recognised the image of his bride immediately.
It was the interloper who had stopped her from killing him.
Tagged as Melissa Lister. The combination of first name and surname amused Laura.
Quite the tongue twister. If it was her, she’d have kept her maiden name.
But going by how much Damon’s flat screamed ‘single man’, it was clear to Laura they were no longer together.
Lister, she repeated to herself, not for the first time. Why did that sound so familiar?
Melissa’s Facebook page was also set to private, but she wasn’t as guarded with her Instagram page. And Laura’s hunch was right: there were no images at all of her and Damon. But there were plenty of Melissa cosying up to another woman. It was obvious they were a couple.
The plot thickens.
Throughout the remainder of the car journey home, Laura ran through every possible explanation as to why Damon’s need for help in ending his life might’ve been a scam.
But try as she might, she couldn’t think of a plausible motive.
She kept replaying Melissa’s reaction to what she’d interrupted: it appeared to be disbelief.
But her arrival being merely unfortunate timing didn’t mean Laura was going to let Damon off the hook. He owed her his last breath.
Over the following days, she gave herself time to formulate a plan.
For years she’d been a regular fixture at End of the Line, a Samaritans-style charity helpline established to listen to the worries of lonely, desperate and suicidal callers.
Some she had actively encouraged to end their lives, but these scenarios weren’t frequent enough to satisfy her appetite, so after a number of years, she had left.
The palliative care offered by the nursing home where she now volunteers offers close to what she needs, and on a much more regular basis.
When patients have no family or friends to be with in their final hours, she works extra shifts and quietly inhales their final moment.
But these are easy pickings. They are fruit offered to her on a plate.
She longs to fill her lungs with more than the stale death rattle of the terminally ill. She has longed for someone like Damon.
Laura was at the breakfast table eating from a bowl of yoghurt, blueberries and chia seeds when it struck her from nowhere why she might recognise Damon’s surname.
Fifteen minutes later, and following a rummage through her house and a dive into the dark web, she found her answer.
She had to push her laptop to one side and draw in a long breath.
What she had learned was a game changer.
Killing the same person twice was always going to be a first for her.
But this was an even better opportunity, almost too much for her to comprehend.
It was more important than ever that she not let Damon get away.
Today, she hovers on foot by the key-coded entrance to the car park under the apartment block. She doesn’t know the entry number, but she doesn’t have to wait long before a tenant appears and picks up their vehicle, and she slips inside the car park before the gates close.
Laura almost immediately finds what she is looking for: a souped-up Astra parked close to the entrance.
She recognises it as the one belonging to Garry, the man who was supposed to have made it clear to Damon that Laura is not done with him yet.
The man she sent to taunt him simply because she can.
What use is a mouse to a cat, after all, unless it can be toyed with?
But why has Garry since vanished, and left behind his prized possession – not to mention his smartphone, back in his awful flat?
The car’s doors are still locked, but as she peers inside, she can see a set of keys lying in the central console.
Odd and odder. She considers smashing a window to gain entry, then checks his phone again.
Amongst the other pointless customisations that scream ‘pizza delivery boy’, he’s also had a keyless entry system fitted.
She opens the app and the door immediately unlocks.
She’s not sure what she is looking for when she slips inside and closes the door.
There’s certainly nothing immediately surprising.
The passenger footwell contains empty cans of Red Bull and polystyrene boxes with the remnants of takeaway meals inside.
He is what he eats: cheap and disposable.
There is nothing of interest in or on the back seats or inside door pockets, but she does find a small unlabelled bottle – complete with pipette – containing a transparent liquid in his glovebox.
GHB, the date rape drug, she assumes. She has found it useful in the past, although she doubts it’s for the same reasons Garry has.
She’s about to leave when she spots a small, dashboard-mounted camera.
Its green light suggests it’s either recording or live-streaming.
She scrolls through his phone again and finds the accompanying CamMe app inside a folder.
In another minute she’s scrolled back a week, to the date she asked Garry to drive here and up the ante on Damon, and presses play.
The video begins with him following another car into the car park and positioning his vehicle in a spot opposite a bin storage area.
She fast-forwards three hours until she spots a figure she recognises. Damon entering his car.
It’s rare she is left speechless, but that’s what happens when she watches the events of that confrontation play out. It’s only then that she realises how much she has underestimated Damon. And how he has the potential to be one of the most thrilling chapters of her life so far.