Chapter 66
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
So here it is.
The moment I have truly been waiting for.
The moment that I can wipe this repugnant piece of excrement off the face of the planet.
The kill that I’ve been looking forward to the most.
Like, literally, the most ever.
No other kill has made the blood pump through my veins in quite the same way it’s doing now.
I feel so completely full of life.
Maybe I was being a bit hasty earlier when I said killing no longer gave me the buzz it used to.
Maybe.
Antoinette has recovered from her near-death experience and has been sharpening knives in preparation.
‘I love that sound,’ she purrs as the beautiful metallic clink of steel on steel echoes around the kitchen, where we’ve been prepping. ‘I’m going to enjoy this one. Thanks for waiting for me.’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘As if I’d go ahead and kill him without my little apprentice to help me.’
Antoinette considers my words for a moment. ‘Don’t you think,’ she says, ‘that after what happened in the desert, that I’ve maybe graduated from being your apprentice at this point?’
I look at my sister, who’s looking back at me hopefully.
She’s right.
Of course she’s right.
She’s more than shown how far she’s come since we first arrived out here.
We haven’t just found Aidan, we’ve also closed the loop on the WeHo Ripper. And that’s down to my sister. My infuriating sister who planned it, baited him and walked right into danger for it. I want to shout at her for being reckless but I can’t.
I’m not angry at her.
I’m proud.
I smile. ‘Okay, you’re no longer the apprentice.’
‘Do I get to make the first cut then?’
‘Don’t push your luck.’
She gives me a grin and we gather up our supplies before making our way into the wine cellar.
Aidan is huddled in a corner, shivering.
It’s always cold down here but I cranked the thermostat down a few more notches before I went to bed, just to make his last night extra special.
It’ll probably spoil a few of the wines but they’re necessary collateral.
I’m sure Agnes’s parents would understand.
‘Cold?’ I ask as we make our way down the steps. Aidan looks up at us but doesn’t say anything. ‘Don’t be like that,’ I say. ‘I think I’ve been really nice, welcoming you into our home like this. Providing you with bed and board.’
Aidan eyes Antoinette and the bundles of glinting steel we’re both carrying.
‘Is this it then?’ he says. ‘Are you finally going to put me out of my misery?’
Antoinette gives him a smile that is somehow both devilish and dazzling. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But we’re going to make sure you have even more misery first. A few days in a freezing cellar will seem like an absolute spa break by the time we’re finished with you.’
‘You’ll be begging for death,’ I add, in case he doesn’t understand that we’re about to torture him horribly.
‘Can we possibly just get it over with quickly?’ he asks. ‘I’m sure you’ve got things you need to be doing.’ He casts a pointed glance over at the LV cases in the opposite corner. ‘I won’t even struggle,’ he promises. ‘Just shoot me or something.’
‘Oh no,’ I tell him. ‘That would take all the fun out of it. I’m sure you understand that, right?
Like you could’ve chosen to just give Tor one quick slap.
Or you could’ve chosen not to lay a finger on her at all.
But you didn’t, did you?’ He swallows hard and I see his Adam’s apple bob.
Why has he got such a prominent Adam’s apple?
I’ll be cutting that out. ‘Antoinette,’ I say.
‘Have you got the list there of all the injuries Mr Ward inflicted on my friend?’
Antoinette nods. ‘I have, Kitty.’
‘Could you read it out, please?’
‘Of course.’ She clears her throat like she’s about to make an important speech.
‘Three broken ribs, a fractured cheekbone, a lacerated spleen thanks to one of the broken ribs poking it. That caused internal bleeding and needed surgery. Then there was the nasal fracture, the collarbone fracture from where she hit the floor and the traumatic brain injury.’
Aidan’s eyes widen.
‘You did that to her,’ I say. ‘Because you lost your temper. Because she wasn’t ready to sleep with you. Are you proud of that?’
He has the decency to lower his head in shame. ‘Of course I’m not. I’m appalled that I did that to her.’ He raises his eyes to mine. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me, Kitty, but I hate myself for what I did to Tor. I really cared about her.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘So bad that, even though you did all that to her, you packed up and fled the country. Yeah. That screams deep shame and remorse.’
‘I panicked,’ he says. ‘Let me go and I’ll go back to the UK. I’ll turn myself in.’
‘You’re a coward,’ Antoinette hisses as she stalks over to him and kicks him in his side. He lets out a howl of pain.
‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘I’m a horrible coward. But I promise you that I will make this right. I’ll get on a flight today if you let me. I’ll go right to the police and tell them everything I did to Tor. I deserve to be punished. I do. But I don’t deserve to die.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong though, Aidan,’ I tell him.
‘Even if you’re actually telling the truth and you go back to London and turn yourself in, which I highly doubt, you know as well as I do that your prison time would be short, if at all.
I’m guessing this would be your first offence as you were a practising psychotherapist and allowed to work with people.
Your first offence on record, that is, because I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time you’ve been violent to a woman? ’
‘It was!’ he protests. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone before.’
‘I find it very hard to believe, Aidan, that you went from being a peaceful, nonviolent man to beating a woman half to death.’
‘I was under a lot of stress. And you don’t know what it was like. You weren’t there. Tor provoked me.’
I glare at him and Antoinette gives him another kick.
‘Anyway, the point is that a judge could be lenient with you. First offence, a respected member of society up to this point. You’d do maybe four or five years in prison. Maybe none at all. Maybe you’d just be handed some community service and told to do a fucking anger-management course.’
‘The prisons are horribly full,’ Antoinette says. ‘So it’s possible he wouldn’t even get a custodial sentence.’
‘See,’ I say to Aidan. ‘Do you think that’s fair? Do you think it would be fair on Tor to know that you were still out on the streets after what you did to her?’
‘I wouldn’t go near her, I swear to you. I’d move away.’
I pretend to think about this for a moment. ‘But then how would I keep an eye on you, Aidan? How would I know that you’re not hurting another woman? Only worse this time. Because that’s what happens, isn’t it? When men like you get away with it once. You wouldn’t stop until you killed someone.’
His breaths are coming out in gasps now.
I love it when fear makes men hyperventilate.
‘No,’ he says. ‘I could never.’
‘Sure you could,’ Antoinette says as she squats down so her face is at the same level as his. ‘It’s incredibly easy. Right, Kits?’
‘It really is,’ I agree.
‘And addictive,’ Antoinette says and I nod. ‘It’s actually really hard to stop once you get a taste for it.’
‘So you see,’ I continue, ‘I couldn’t, with a good conscience, let you go.’
He’s almost sobbing now. ‘You can. You can trust me. I’ll never even speak to a woman again. I won’t even look at one. Just please don’t kill me.’
I drop down next to Antoinette and hold his eyes with mine. ‘But I trusted you once already, didn’t I, Aidan?’
I can tell he’s remembering the same moment I am.
When I went to see him at his clinic in London.
I was concerned when Tor told me she’d fallen for her therapist. I mean, it’s not great, is it?
I was convinced he was taking advantage of her.
She didn’t even realise how vulnerable she still was after her attack in Mykonos.
What sort of a man makes a move on a woman who is entrusting him with her emotional health?
The red flags were flapping all over the place.
So I paid him a visit. And he convinced me that he had fallen in love with my best friend.
Why wouldn’t he? She’s incredible. Turns out Hollywood is the perfect place for Aidan Ward because he’s one hell of an actor.
I’ll never not trust my instincts again.
‘I meant every word I said to you that day, Kitty,’ he says now.
‘No,’ I say. ‘You didn’t. Because if you meant even one single word, you never would have done this.
’ I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll through to the photos Tor sent me of her injuries.
I hold them in front of Aidan’s face. He tries to move his head so he’s not looking at them but Antoinette grabs it and holds it still.
‘Look,’ I say. ‘Look what you did to her.’ I scroll through the photos, knowing he’s seeing images of Tor’s broken face, of the deep, angry bruises on her torso, of the drain in her skull removing fluid from her brain.
I watch his face as he looks at the pictures.
‘This is the woman you told me you loved. This is what you did to her. And you’re seriously trying to argue that you don’t deserve to die? ’
Aidan’s eyes are wet when they meet mine.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says to me.
‘You’re sorry I caught up with you, that’s all.’
‘Anyway,’ Antoinette says in a sing-song voice. ‘Do you remember that list of injuries I read to you?’
Aidan’s eyes widen. ‘Yes?’
‘Which one first?’
His brow puckers a little. ‘What do you mean?’
Antoinette fixes him with one of her hard stares. ‘It’s not a complicated question, Aidan. Which. One. First?’
I decide to help him out as it’s clearly challenging his brain.
‘Antoinette wanted to go straight to throat slicing,’ I say, ‘but I thought it would be more fun for you to experience some of what you put Tor through. That’s why we made that list for you.
Think of it as a kind of menu.’ His eyes widen even more.
‘Time to pick your starter, Aidan.’ His eyes don’t leave mine.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Did you think that just because we bonded a bit while I was going through a crisis that I was going to spare you?’
I laugh in his face.
No chance.
Antoinette hops up and starts unravelling the tarpaulin sheet. ‘This will make it easier to clean up when we’re done,’ she says cheerfully.
I stand up and start unpacking the bundle of tools I brought down with me; the knives, the kettlebell, the electric meat tenderiser. ‘You’re awfully quiet, Aidan,’ I say. ‘I guess it’s chef’s choice?’ I pick up the kettlebell. ‘How about we start with that cheekbone?’
Antoinette has finished rolling out the tarp. She looks up. ‘That’s Agnes’s,’ she says. ‘Be careful not to get too much head gunk on it.’
‘I can’t promise that,’ I say as I make my way over to Aidan.