Chapter 66
Venetia
Last week
“Just go through the red light, for god’s sake, Felipe. It’s eleven o’clock at night, there’s nobody around.”
Felipe did as he was told. Venetia gripped the seatbelt with one hand and kept trying and retrying Aimee’s number with the other. No answer. Please let her be asleep. Please let her be OK. The last words Aimee had said kept coming back.
He’s on his way. And asking me something about a screenshot, some message that’s doing the rounds.
Venetia would give anything, anything in the world, to be wrong. But her gut is telling her she’s right to be scared.
Felipe had been waiting up for her and had offered to drive when he saw her getting in her car. He still didn’t get what was going on, though she’d explained it twice now. He ran another red light. Almost there.
Venetia had the passenger door open before Felipe put on the handbrake.
She made her way past Aimee and Rory’s cars, deciding not to ring the bell.
Instead she used the spare key from their lockbox.
If it was all a mistake, there was no point in waking them.
And no need to explain to Rory what had gone through her head.
Not when they’re this close to Aimee leaving. And if it wasn’t a mistake…
Venetia ran down the hall and into the kitchen, but it was dark and empty.
The living room too. Felipe stepped inside and opened his mouth to speak.
She shushed him with a finger to her lips, then pointed up the stairs.
The carpet, new and deep pile, muffled any noise as she went up toward the landing, with Felipe following.
Straight ahead was the bathroom. To her right, the spare room, and then Aimee and Rory’s bedroom.
Aimee had been so proud when they got the keys to their smart, new-build townhouse.
A pretty two-story in showhouse neutrals.
Rory would be easier now, she’d said. Calmer, less stressed, once out of the tiny flat they’d been renting until then.
And he had. For a week or two. Then he’d realized that parents from a local school were parking outside their house every morning, and he’d taken it out on Aimee.
Venetia swallowed, digging her nails into her palms. Felipe was right behind her, still confused, but knowing better than to speak.
She stepped forward and touched the bedroom door.
For a moment, she couldn’t move. Afraid of what she might find, afraid it would be too late.
Then a sound caught her attention. The sound of sleep.
The sound of snoring. Relief swept over her.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. It was going to be OK.
They were asleep, he hadn’t seen the message, and Aimee would leave him tomorrow.
She pushed the door of Aimee’s bedroom.
And that’s when she saw it all laid bare.
Red sheets where there should be white. Dark stains on the carpet.
A metal bar with something heavy on the end.
A barbell. One of Rory’s barbells. And Aimee.
Her beautiful, perfect, innocent sister lying across the bed.
Her head lolling, hanging down over the side.
Arms by her ears. Eyes open. But gone. So gone.
And as Venetia stepped forward, to do the impossible, to will her sister back to life, a noise caught her attention.
There he was. In his chair, head thrown back.
The sound of snoring, the rattle of sleep.
He’d killed her sister and taken a nap. Rage and grief and horror surged inside Venetia and rose like a volcano spilling out in a roar as she picked the barbell off the floor, raised it waist high and slammed the weight against Rory’s head.
And again. And again. Then arms were around her as Felipe pulled her away.
And Rory slumped sideways on to the floor.
Venetia had two regrets. Not making Aimee leave earlier that day. And not making Rory suffer for what he’d done. He never knew what hit him.