Chapter Seventy-Five
Joanna
That night, I sleep in the master bedroom, and Nev stays on the sofa.
I wake up disoriented, and immediately panic attacks my body.
Memories of the night before come flooding into my mind.
I start shaking from the shock. I’m struggling to come to terms with the fact that Daniel is behind my kidnapping and that he plotted to murder me.
We could have sold the flat to raise the money he needed.
As it is, Nev saved my life, while Daniel had no qualms about taking it and leaving Joel without a mother.
At first, I wanted to go to the police and tell them the truth, but how could we convince them that Nev was coerced into it and did it to keep me safe?
Nev is the only person with a key to the house.
He looks guilty as hell, and if I’m honest, I have another reason for keeping the police away.
I want revenge. I want Danny to suffer the way I have.
Last night, Neville cycled to the lock-up to retrieve his car and belongings, while I sat plotting my revenge.
***
Joanna
I wear Neville’s coat; its hood helps to hide my face. It’s easy enough to get syringes and needles from the chemist. I know exactly what we need.
Nev buys a flash drive. We’ve decided to follow the instructions that Danny gave to the killer and provide photographs for authenticity.
Nev is hesitant, afraid he’ll hurt me while drawing blood. It takes time to reassure him, but even with my guidance, it hurts like hell. I could have done it myself, but it would’ve been more difficult. The pain is worth it. A small amount of blood can look like so much more when smeared.
Time is limited, and I worry Danny might panic and come to the house if he doesn’t hear from the hit man soon. Neville searches online but can’t find the chat room. ‘He must have used the dark web,’ he says.
It doesn’t take us long to find the page on the dark web.
Danny has used the name Dallyduck. Nev poses as the hit man, telling Danny that everything has gone to plan.
We spread blood around the basement and on the now-lifeless hit man.
Then it’s time to take the photos. Nev struggles as he finds them disturbingly realistic.
But I’m still not satisfied that they look real enough.
We draw more of my blood and splash it on the walls.
Nev’s kindness brings tears to my eyes. I’d been obnoxious to him, and yet, the whole time, he’d hated this just as much as I had. Now, he’s trying so hard to make amends. I promise Nev that he’ll get the money he’s owed once this is over.
He renovated the house into the home I’d always dreamed of, and Daniel ruined it.
We need more blood, but I’m growing weaker, not giving myself time to recover. I look as pale as a ghost. Nev helps me to smear blood on my hair and scalp. He nearly throws up, but manages to hold it together.
Nev takes photographs and I study them. Something’s missing.
‘It’s not right. I need to look like I’ve been beaten,’ I say. ‘Otherwise, it doesn’t look convincing.’
He cringes as I inflict bruises on myself. It hurts, but the pain is less than the emotional suffering I’ve already endured.
Did Daniel even consider what it would mean for Joel to grow up without a mother? Or the pain it would cause my parents? Most of all, did he ever think of the terror I’d feel when facing death?
The thought of being hammered to death makes my skin crawl. But Danny would have done it, and all of it for money. I fight back nausea. The bruises finally turn purple, and the second set of photos looks authentic.
Recording the message is harder. We write several scripts before settling on the one that works best. We add the music, ‘Danny Boy’, for effect.
The instructions he sent to the murderer made it clear that Danny didn’t want our bodies found, but I want him to see the photos, to know what he’s done, even if, unknown to him, he hadn’t achieved it at all.
Before leaving, I spill drops of blood inside the van. Everything is ready. As I look back at my ‘perfect’ home, I think about the ‘perfect’ life we planned.
But no one has a perfect life, do they?