Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
ERIN
There’s a diner, somewhere in the USA, where you can actually order the very same last meal that infamous serial killers on death row requested to eat before they were put to death.
I’m not kidding. You can choose, among other delights on the menu, John Wayne Gacy’s final meal of chicken, twelve fried shrimp, French fries, and a pound of strawberries, or, if you prefer, Ted Bundy’s medium-rare steak, eggs over easy, hash browns and toast with butter and jam, all while being surrounded by artefacts and trophies of their heinous and grizzly crimes. Only in America, right?
Tonight though, I’ve opted for a double cheeseburger with all the trimmings, some French fries, a portion of chicken goujons, fried onion rings, a large Coke and a side of mac ’n’ cheese.
Dessert is a tub of Ben no doubt it would bring some for this poor Tilly woman too.
After all, there’s safety in numbers, right?
Tilly and I are honorary members of ‘The Samantha Valentine Survivors’ Club’, a club that everyone wants to be a member of, said no one ever. But here we both are.
I know Dan won’t allow me to see her, but maybe he can lead me to her directly. That would be a start.
I flip open Molly’s laptop. I need to delete some old accounts before the feds find them, if they haven’t already. Everything’s traceable these days, everything except Samantha Valentine.
I log in to my old email account, one that pre-dates Samantha.
I’d forgotten I even had it, to be honest. Prisoners – sorry, patients – at Larksmere weren’t allowed to send or receive emails directly of course, but sometimes staff brought round printed correspondence that had been sent from family, friends and loved ones.
I never once received one of those sought-after printouts from loved ones or friends because I never had any of those.
I scan my eyes down the inbox, it’s all just junk anyway, sales and marketing crap, most of it and… hang on!
I jolt backwards in my seat, so hard that it hurts the small of my back.
DoYouKnowWhoSamanthaValentineIs@
The subject matter says: My name is Tilly Ward…
Oh. My. God. My heart starts pounding, knocking hard against my ribs. It’s pulsing loudly in my ears as I touch my chest, take a breath before I click on it.
My name is Tilly Ward. You don’t know me. But I think we may have someone in common. Her name is Samantha Valentine.