Chapter 59
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
‘It’s Antoinette’s, isn’t it?’ Lauren is saying but I can barely hear her over the blood that is suddenly roaring in my ears.
‘I recognised it as soon as I saw it.’ She holds the scarf out to me.
The delicate pink one I bought for her on our first day here.
Lauren’s hands are trembling as I take it from her and hold it to my face.
It smells like my sister, like the cloyingly rich perfume she wears, like that indescribable scent that is just her.
Oh, Antoinette.
Tears sting at my eyes.
The room blurs.
Grief punches me from the inside.
I nod. ‘Yes, it’s hers.’ I slump down into a chair, clutching the scrap of fabric close to my chest. Charlie’s at my side, holding my arm, concern tugging at his features.
The room tilts.
‘What was it doing in Cort’s car?’ Agnes says. Her voice is high-pitched with panic and confusion. She looks wildly between us. ‘I don’t understand. When was Antoinette in Cort’s car?’
Lauren swallows and her throat bobs. ‘That’s not all,’ she says, her voice wobbling. She reaches into her pocket and, with shaking hands, pulls out a piece of paper folded into a small square.
What now?
‘What’s that?’ Agnes says as I take it from Lauren.
‘A list,’ Lauren says as I open it.
It is.
It’s a list of names.
Alicia Levy
Sofi Garcia
Ellie Edwards
Juno Blake
I read them out loud.
Agnes’s eyes fly wide open.
‘Oh no,’ she says. ‘These are the names of—’
‘Of who?’ says Charlie.
‘Of all the PrivatePool women who have been found dead,’ I say, pressing the list into Agnes’s hand. Her eyes meet mine.
‘Cort’s the WeHo Ripper,’ she whispers, her eyes widen even more. ‘And he’s got Antoinette.’
Lauren throws her a look. Her face is pinched. Her voice small as she says, ‘I’m so sorry.’
I stand up. ‘Where is he, Lauren? Where the fuck is he?’
But Lauren is shaking her head. ‘There could be another explanation. Maybe he gave Antoinette a lift somewhere?’
I have to hold myself back from lunging at her. I thrust the scarf into her face. She turns away like she can’t bear the sight of it.
‘There is fucking blood on it, Lauren. Where. Is. He? Tell me!’
Charlie is at my side now and I feel his hand on my arm. I’m not sure if he’s comforting me or getting ready to restrain me. I’m not sure what I need more in this moment.
Lauren is still shaking her head in disbelief and I want to shake Cort’s location out of her. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Cort would never hurt anyone. Especially not women. He’s an ally.’
Is she having some sort of breakdown?
Is she completely fucking delusional?
Something in me breaks and I’m suddenly on her, my fingers gripping her arms, digging into her flesh, screaming into her face. ‘Lauren! Where the fuck is Cort?’
‘I don’t know!’ She sobs as she pulls herself out of my grasp. ‘I don’t know! He took off. I’m sorry!’ And then she’s gone, tearing out of the door and towards the guesthouse.
I make a move to follow her but Charlie is holding me back. Tender but firm.
He knows what I’m capable of.
‘Kits,’ he says, his voice an anchor pulling me back to the room. He turns my head so I’m looking at him. ‘She said she doesn’t know.’
‘She’s lying,’ I hiss. I turn to Agnes. ‘You’re their friend. Where is he?’ My voice is clipped, almost aggressive, and I clock a flicker of shock in her eyes.
But I don’t care.
One of these women must know something.
‘I … I know where he lives,’ Agnes stammers. ‘We should go there?’ She looks from me to Charlie.
‘Yes!’ I say. ‘Let’s go now.’ I move towards the table where the hire-car keys are. But as I do, the room tilts again. Spots appear in the corners of my eyes and I have to grab onto the back of a chair to stop myself from falling to the ground.
Charlie is at my side in a flash.
‘Kits? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say but when I try to walk again the same thing happens. ‘I just need to sit down for a minute.’
Charlie guides me into a seat. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he says.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, even though my vision is swimming almost as much as my head.
‘You’re not,’ he says. ‘You nearly passed out.’
‘I’ll go,’ Agnes says. She crouches beside me and puts her hand on my knee. ‘I’ll go. I want to find her as much as you do. Believe me.’
And I do.
‘You can’t go alone,’ I say. ‘It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.’
‘He’s not going to do anything to me,’ Agnes says but Charlie is frowning.
‘No, Kitty’s right,’ he says. ‘I’ll come with you. Kits, you stay here and rest. Eat something. We’ll let you know if we find anything.’
‘But I want to come,’ I say. ‘If he’s got Antoinette … if she’s …’ I can’t finish the sentence. ‘I should be there. I’ll just wait in the car or something.’
Charlie drops down next to Agnes and they’re both looking up at me. ‘Let us go,’ he says. ‘I promise to call you as soon as we get there.’ His lovely face is etched with concern. ‘Please, Kits. Stay.’
And I hate it.
I hate it so much.
But I reluctantly nod. ‘Okay,’ I say, exhaustion pressing into me, clawing at my bones. ‘Please keep me updated.’
‘Of course,’ Agnes says, standing and giving my knee a squeeze.
Charlie kisses the top of my head, the tips of my ears. ‘Rest,’ he says as he and Agnes disappear into the night.
But how am I supposed to rest?
It’s an impossible ask with my sister missing, my boyfriend walking into god knows what, and me completely unable to protect either of them.
I collapse on the sofa after Charlie and Agnes leave, clutching a full-fat Coke. I chug half the can and feel the sugar chase the faintness away. I’m still exhausted but not seconds from blacking out anymore.
It’s stress.
It must be stress.
I can’t stand this feeling of uselessness. I feel so helpless. Completely impotent. I should be with Agnes and Charlie. I should be the one hammering on Cort’s door, storming in, demanding to know where my sister is. What’s he done to her.
And then … what I’ll do to him.
Doing nothing feels so pathetic.
Sitting here isn’t helping.
I push myself up, ignoring the dizziness prickling my vision, and head back to the kitchen to refill my glass. Caffeine and sugar. That will keep me going until I hear from Charlie and Agnes.
A knock at the back door startles me, even though it’s quiet, tentative.
‘Kitty?’
It’s Lauren.
I don’t want to see her now.
‘Unless you’ve got something useful to say about where your fucking psycho boyfriend might be, it’s probably best you stay out of my way.’
‘I’ve come to say sorry,’ she says, poking her head in and giving me a thin, shame-faced smile. ‘Can I come in? Please?’
I want to say no, but I also have a million questions to ask her about Cort. I want to know everything about him now. How long she’s known him. Where he’s from. How the fuck she didn’t notice that he’s a murdering lunatic.
I nod and she slips inside, perching on one of the dining chairs, her arms wrapped around her thin frame.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asks, looking around the room.
‘Agnes and Charlie have gone to Cort’s place,’ I say. ‘I’m waiting to hear from them.’
‘That was Charlie?’ she says. I suppose we didn’t really get the chance to do introductions.
I nod. ‘Yes.’
I stare at Lauren, waiting.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says eventually. ‘About before. I just can’t believe it …’ She trails off, lowers her eyes. ‘I can’t believe Cort would do those awful things.’
I frown at her. This is nothing new.
‘Lauren,’ I say, ‘I’m really not in the mood for another round of you not being able to believe it. So if you’ve got nothing else to say—’
‘Please let me finish.’ She looks up at me again and now I can’t miss the pain and confusion in her eyes.
She takes a deep breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I can’t believe it.
But I do. I do believe it.’ She sighs heavily and her eyes dart around the room.
‘You guys are right. There’s no other reason Antoinette’s scarf would be in his car.
Why there’s blood on it. And … that list. Handwritten.
Cort never writes anything down. It all goes into his phone … ’
I remember what I said to Antoinette about not leaving a digital footprint.
She rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. ‘It’s like he didn’t want to leave a trace.’ She stares intensely at her fingers. ‘I didn’t want to think that I could’ve made such a bad choice. I really thought he was one of the good ones.’
Guilt shoots through me. I didn’t even consider how hard it would’ve been for Lauren. Seeing those screaming truths about her boyfriend like that. About the man she trusted.
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘You weren’t the only one he fooled.’
She huffs out a hollow laugh. ‘Turns out he’s a better actor than me.’
We sit in silence for a few moments, the heaviness of the situation like a presence in the room.
Just then my phone starts to ring.
I grab for it.
It’s Charlie.
‘Is he there?’ I ask, frantic. ‘Did you find Antoinette?’
Charlie’s voice sounds a million miles away as he says, ‘I’m sorry, Kits. There’s no one here.’ Agnes says something in the background. ‘We’re going to try to find a way in,’ he continues. ‘Agnes thinks she can get in through one of the windows.’
‘Okay,’ I say as I sag with disappointment. ‘Keep me in the loop. I love you.’
‘I love you.’
The call ends and I turn to Lauren. ‘He’s not at his place. Can you call him?’
Her brow furrows. ‘He won’t answer,’ she says. ‘He raced off in a fury when I asked him about the scarf.’
‘Please try.’
She takes out her phone and calls Cort, putting it on speaker. It rings and rings and rings.
‘Lauren,’ I plead with her. ‘If he’s not at home, where will he be?’ She shrugs sadly, the look on her face pained. ‘Please think,’ and I’m almost begging. ‘If there’s anywhere you think Cort could have taken Antoinette, I really need to know.’
Lauren’s blue eyes fill up with tears and she makes no effort to wipe them away when they spill and begin running down her cheeks.
‘I … I don’t know. I don’t know.’
I grab her hands. ‘Please! Think! Lauren, this is important.’
‘Wait,’ she says, her expression changing from distress to horror and her eyes locking onto mine with sudden, terrible clarity. The colour drains from her face. ‘I think I know where he might be.’