Epilogue
The days that followed passed in a blur and Poppy wasn’t entirely sure how everything had unfolded once the police had arrived.
There had been questions, of course – so many questions – but already it felt a distant memory, as though it had happened to someone else. What she did know for certain was that Martin Roe hadn’t disappeared quietly into the night as he had done so before.
This time, there had been no escape for him.
After the police had arrested him, information had begun to surface. Slowly at first, but then in chunks that started to form a clearer and more disturbing picture.
Poppy had been his focus. But she hadn’t been his only one.
There had been others. Women he regularly spoke to online, building connections under different names.
Creating fake lives with other men’s images, all that had been carefully constructed.
But he hadn’t invented those men from scratch.
Many of the lives he had been borrowing belonged to real villa owners whose properties he maintained.
He had access to their homes when they were away and knew their habits, their tastes, every detail of their lives. He had lifted details – photographs from social media, references to hobbies, adopted their music taste, family, friendship circles and routines – then built new personas out of them.
There was enough truth in each identity to make the lies feel solid, but he had added his own unique twist to the names he used.
Tom Rainer.
Mat Norrie.
Ian Morter.
Remi Toran.
Ant Morier.
Names that had once meant nothing now carried an uncomfortable weight.
They were all anagrams of Martin Roe.
The reveal had made Poppy’s stomach turn.
This hadn’t just been a deception, it had been deliberate, and she had stared at the list for a long time, realising she hadn’t been the only one Martin had duped.
There were five women at least. Probably more.
Each one of them had spent weeks or months, or maybe longer, talking to someone who wasn’t who they thought he was.
Like Poppy, they would have felt they were building something that felt real and significant, while Martin sat behind his screen and used them for his own amusement.
What unsettled her the most was the thought of the real villa owner, Jasper Stevens.
It had been his face she had looked at in photographs, believing he was Tom.
He had been out there, living his life, entirely unaware that his image had been used in this way.
He would have had no idea that the man he trusted to look after his villa had studied his social media, borrowed his home, his history, his family, and worn them like a costume.
Even the wedding photograph Martin had sent her had been lifted from Jasper’s social media. It was one of dozens he had saved for that identity.
She had never really seen Tom at all. Although there had been the odd video call, she understood now that those had been carefully controlled.
She had never seen Tom’s face on screen.
He had shown her things – the villa, the pool, the terrace, the view towards the sea – but always with the camera turned away from himself.
At the time, it had felt natural, part of the easy intimacy they had built.
Now she understood it had been another part of the performance.
She had trusted Tom, even developed feelings for him, and there had never been any reason to doubt him because they had been introduced by a friend she had trusted. Rebecca Kennedy.
That was when Poppy realised just how deeply Martin had carved his lies.
His friendship with Rebecca had always had an endgame. To lure Poppy in.
Rebecca had never met him. She thought she had because Martin had convinced her they had spoken at one of her book signings. He had charmed her the way he went on to charm Poppy, and he had done it so very easily.
He had been living these double lives for some time, and he had become good at it.
His online personas weren’t new. They had been his way of interacting with the world following his accident, and he had shaped them into something that suited him.
A life where he wasn’t judged and where he could be whoever he wanted.
Poppy hadn’t been a coincidence. She wasn’t someone he had randomly seen online.
That part unsettled her the most.
He had already known who she was, having done maintenance work at her flat in England.
She had no memory of him. But why would she? He had been part of a crew of two, and he had kept his head down while his colleague had done the talking.
All the while, though, he had noticed her. Her things. The details of her life. Enough to find her again later. And from there it hadn’t taken much. He had seen her work, her social media, and then carefully constructed a version of himself that he knew she would respond to.
Tom Rainer.
There had been a time when she would see she had a message from him or his name would appear on the screen when he phoned her, and her heart would lift, excited to hear from him. But now it conjured only revulsion. All of it had been a lie.
As for why he had come to Crete, the explanation had been less clear, but there had been enough suggestion to piece it together.
The police said there had been an incident with a woman in England.
Nothing yet proven and it was still being investigated, but there was enough concern from her family that Martin had found himself under pressure.
It seemed that leaving had been easier than facing the music, with Crete offering him a fresh start. Here he had been able to continue without scrutiny.
Until Poppy.
She had been the first one he had tried to take things further with. The first time he had attempted to turn his virtual world into reality.
The police uncovered the extent of the preparations he had made for the life he expected them to have together, whether she came willingly or not.
It hadn’t started that way. When Poppy had first proposed visiting Tom, Martin had seen an opportunity to lure her to Crete. He was a practised liar and the stories about the Paris wedding and his best friend’s car accident had come easily.
Looking back, she realised he had always had an excuse every time she had tried to meet with him. But he had been craftily smart too – like for example when he had been in London for a birthday party, eager to see her, but knowing full well from her social media posts that she was away.
At the time, Poppy had blamed herself that they hadn’t been able to meet up. She’d had no idea she was being manipulated. Everything he had done had been with the intention of fooling her.
Then her visit to Crete had given him a new opportunity.
With Poppy alone in the villa, he would be able to observe her closely.
But then Keira had come with her. At first, she had simply been an irritant, but then she had caught Martin snooping through Poppy’s things, and events had taken a darker turn.
She was an obstacle in the way. One he knew he had to deal with. And it was then his plans for Poppy grew darker.
He had never intended to let her leave Crete.
That knowledge continued to play on her mind, unsettling her in a way she couldn’t quite shake, as did the depth of his deception.
Looking back, it shocked her how convincingly he had made her believe he was in England.
He had allegedly spoken to her neighbour, Mrs Okafor, remembering the unusual name from when Poppy had been complaining about the woman.
And when he had pretended to check on Keira, mentioning the orange cat in the window, it was because he knew from Keira’s phone that she had one.
Poppy had supplied the name Dustin herself.
At the time, it had all seemed believable. Now, she understood it was information she had given him or he had picked up. Details he had stored away and used.
The betrayal cut deep.
She and Keira stayed on in Crete for a few more days. Partly because they had to, but also neither of them felt ready to leave straight away.
Both their families had offered to fly out, while Greg had tried to insist Keira come home, but they needed this time, just the two of them.
And quietly, Keira had admitted to Poppy that time away from Greg had made her rethink her relationship.
She realised it wasn’t working. When she got back to England, she intended to end things.
Keira recovered quickly, at least on the surface. Physically, she was fine, and she insisted she would be okay, brushing things off in her usual carefree way. But there were quiet moments where Poppy could see the strain beneath.
They had checked into a hotel and Jem called in on them regularly, making sure they were both okay. His presence became a steady reassurance in a situation that had felt anything but. And, gradually, things began to settle and feel almost normal again.
It was in the hotel room, while Keira took a shower, that Poppy finally dared to properly venture back online. There she was relieved to discover that the outrage Simon Daley had stirred up around her had been overshadowed by a fresh scandal.
Another author had come forward accusing Simon of plagiarising passages from her own thriller, and she was armed with plenty of proof.
Poppy took little pleasure in watching the same crowd turn on him. Even if he did deserve it. After all, he had helped make her vulnerable in the first place, and looking back, she could see how easily her thoughts had spiralled during the days after Keira had disappeared from the villa.
She had begun to see danger everywhere. Even when it didn’t exist.
Sue and Ian had been a part of that.
The memory of that night still made Poppy cringe, though now for different reasons.
She had convinced herself they had sinister intentions, but truthfully they were just overly familiar. A little inappropriate, perhaps, and the kind of people who didn’t always recognise where the line was. But they were harmless.
At the time, she had been too wrapped up in her own fear to see it. But now she realised how ridiculous it had been.
The same could be said for Jem.
First, she had worried about how he knew where she and Keira were staying, but he had been honest about Keira telling him which villa they were in.
And the connection she had convinced herself existed between him and Simon Daley had unravelled quickly once she had actually spoken to him about it.
It was a coincidence. Nothing more. The shared surname, the Devon connection. Even the book in his dad’s villa was easily explained. His dad had been an avid reader, and Simon Daley was hardly obscure in the self-published thriller world.
Poppy could see now how badly her mind had wanted to make the pieces fit. Even when they didn’t. It was another thing she blamed Martin for. He had been controlling her narrative the whole time she had been in Crete, and she had allowed him to fuel her paranoia.
But not any more. Even though the experience still haunted her and she was embarrassed she had been so gullible, she wouldn’t be taken for such a fool in the future. From now on, she would be careful who she trusted.
On their last morning, Jem drove them to the airport.
The journey was quiet at first, the early sun warm against the windscreen as the coastline slipped past in a blur of blue and gold.
It felt strange leaving like this and it was not how Poppy had imagined her trip ending. But then she supposed very little about it had gone as expected.
‘Last chance to change your mind,’ Jem said, grinning, as they pulled up outside departures.
Poppy smiled. ‘I think I’ve had enough excitement for one trip,’ she told him dryly.
He huffed out a quiet laugh, and she already knew he was going to miss her.
He had told her so last night.
Keira reached through from the back seat and squeezed her arm. ‘Next time we go somewhere, we’re picking a hotel from the start. With staff and other people.’
‘Absolutely,’ Poppy agreed.
Jem got out of the car, helping them with their bags, and for a moment the three of them stood there, the weight of everything unsaid lingering between them.
‘Well, I guess this is goodbye, for now,’ he said eventually, shoving his hands in his pockets.
‘For now?’ Keira cut in lightly. She laughed, teasing. ‘We’re not ever coming back.’
Poppy smiled, but her attention stayed on Jem.
‘Do you know how much longer you’ll be out here?’
‘Maybe another week or two. Once it’s on the market, there’s no need for me to stay.’
‘Well, you have my number.’
Jem held her gaze for a second longer than necessary, then nodded. ‘I do.’ There was a pause, then he added. ‘Take care of yourself, Poppy.’
‘I will.’
Keira looped her arm through Poppy’s, already turning towards the entrance. ‘Come on, duty free awaits.’
Poppy let herself be pulled along, but she glanced back once, catching sight of Jem still standing by the car watching them.
She lifted a hand in a small wave, her heart squeezing a little when he grinned and waved back.
It made her hopeful for the future and what it could bring.
But for now, she turned away, and together, she and Keira stepped through the airport doors, leaving everything behind.