I can’t explain why, but I am calmer than before he took off my blindfold. Have I accepted my fate?
Gradually, he comes into focus. He was always too beautiful for Sahara, with her plain, masculine features. In this strange light – Ade must have dimmed the lights inside the bedroom,
leaving only the underwater ones in the pool that ripple as the rain continues to fall – his skin has a disturbing blue shade. His skull is so close to the surface it seems to shows through,
his cheekbones and forehead glowing bone-white.
He’s wearing black leather gloves.
‘I am hurt you didn’t realise who I was sooner,’ he says, as though he’s talking about a mystery gift sent on my birthday.
Or flowers sent on driving-test day
.
Yet underneath the casual comment, I sense darkness. He’s only just under control. Anything could make the rage surface and then . . .
‘I thought you were smarter. You guessed the wrong person twice, though I suppose you got some of it right, my little Alice in Wonderland.’
When Ade smiles, his eyes don’t move – as though he’s learned his smiling technique from a correspondence course but hasn’t quite mastered it.
‘
What
did I get right?’ My voice sounds childish.
‘The love. Of course I loved your sister and that’s why her life had to end when it did. And how it did. I
was
gentle. I knew
you’d
understand. You saw the
hangers-on, the parasitic pond-life that circled her from that first TV appearance.’
I don’t remember them being that bad. And anyway, my sister kept them at arm’s length. Me, my parents, Tim: we were the ones who helped her stay grounded.
‘She was changing, Alice. Spoiling. Like a beautiful peach in a fruit bowl. One side absolutely flawless yet, when you turn it over, the other side is infested by blackfly, the skin slack
and broken, the smell rotten.’
It takes everything I have to hide my disgust for him.
He tuts. ‘It was hard for me, Alice, but I had to do it before the sickness spread. She was so perfect it would have been a sin to let her fester.’
Fester?
My sister never had a chance to fester. She died aged nineteen. She wasn’t a saint – she could be grumpy and self-centred – but there was nothing spoiled about
her. He makes her sound contagious.
‘And Tim? Your best friend? Did he have to die too?’
‘He always saw more to our friendship than there really was.’ There’s not a trace of regret in Ade’s face. If anything, he looks proud of himself. ‘Though, of
course, I did support him emotionally after Meggie’s death, at no small cost to myself. Living with a murder suspect really restricts your social life, you know.’
The arrogance shocks me. Tim was suspected of a killing Ade himself carried out, yet Ade is moaning about his social life. ‘It doesn’t explain why you killed him.’
‘Alice, he was so unhappy without his beloved Meggie. Like a walking corpse. The only energy he had was reserved for inventing more and more bizarre plots to clear his name. Mostly dead
ends, of course, but there was a risk he might have got close by accident.’
‘You’re lying. I saw emails where he wrote that he was feeling better.’ Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s so hard to listen to this warped view of
everything that happened.
‘Oh, bless you, you’re loyal. I think that’s an excellent quality in a girl. But the truth is, if I hadn’t faked his suicide, he would have done it himself in the
end.’
Ade’s voice changes with every sentence: kind, mocking, cold, humorous. Each time, it sounds quite genuine. Except when you put them all together, it jars. He’s nothing but an
impersonator. He mimics being human without understanding how far away from it he really is.
My right wrist begins to throb as the tie tightens. Maybe my skin is swelling. A hopelessness passes through me. What is he going to do
?
You don’t follow someone to another
continent unless you know how you want it all to end.
He hasn’t noticed that I’m in pain. ‘I suppose you’d like to know about Zoe, too?’ He sounds like a parent offering a child their favourite bedtime story.
‘She was smarter than Tim. Clearly it affected her, seeing Meggie a few moments after she died. I did take a lot of care to make your sister beautiful, but even so . . . the juxtaposition of
perfection and death is one that could have an unsettling effect.’
Ade sighs. ‘For a while, I hoped the fear would be enough to keep Zoe safe. If she’d had a proper breakdown, and perhaps some intensive drug treatment to banish bad thoughts, then I
wouldn’t have needed to wipe the slate clean, as it were.
‘But she was more determined. I don’t know if she suspected me exactly. There was a time when she’d lined up your geeky friend Lewis as chief suspect. He was the perfect
distraction, so thank you for introducing him into the mix, Alice.
‘But alas, Zoe was too dogged. She had too inquiring a mind. I couldn’t take the risk.’
The casual way he talks about what he’s done is heart-stopping. ‘Don’t you feel any guilt?’
Doubt crosses his face. ‘I’ve never been
cruel
, Alice. Or done anything that wasn’t one hundred per cent necessary. I’m hurt you could think otherwise. Almost
everything I’ve done since Meggie died was about protecting
you,
you know.’
Anger is rising within me. The way he says Meggie ‘died’ without acknowledging that it’s him who killed her. The fact he’s justified it to himself by deciding he’s
my
protector
.
I try to swallow the anger. My only chance of survival is to keep him talking, to pretend to be grateful to him for his
kindness
.
But I’m kidding myself. He won’t let me out of this room alive, will he? Ade doesn’t seem to have a conscience, so it’s a waste of time trying to think of a way to appeal
to his better nature.
Yet time is my only weapon. The longer I can distract him, the more chance there is that I will be discovered. Ade’s favourite subject is easy to guess: himself.
‘Thank you. For protecting me.’ The words taste bitter and unconvincing, but his face relaxes and he nods as if to say,
You’re welcome, it’s what any gentlemanly
serial killer would do
. ‘But who looks after
you,
Ade?’
He scowls. Perhaps I have gone too far now. Even an egomaniac like Ade will detect the irony behind my fake sympathy.
‘Sahara did,’ he says, eventually. His face is hard to read.
‘She knows?’
He sighs. ‘I cannot be sure how much she had worked out for herself. She was never the most inquiring girlfriend. People struggled to understand why we stayed together, I know that. She
wasn’t all that pretty, but she was passive, unquestioning. My ideal woman.’
Passive is the last word I’d use to describe Sahara, but perhaps he’s revealing more than he intends to about their relationship. If she does know, and has known all along, then it
could explain her nervy, dramatic behaviour. Perhaps, in her own way, she was a victim – and was trying to protect me by hovering around.
But she should have done more. She could have prevented Tim’s death, Zoe’s accident.
And
what is about to happen to me.
‘Have you told her, or did she guess?’
His eyes are translucent as he tries to remember. ‘I think she had her suspicions that something wasn’t right, though people are always excellent at refusing to face the truth when
it doesn’t suit them. But I’ve explained it all to her now.’
Again, the coolness chills me. ‘Does she understand?’
He sighs. ‘I doubt it. She was always quite self-centred, Sahara, don’t you think? Though I suppose that will be written out of history now. People only say nice things about the
dead. Yet those who are left behind suffer more.’
I realise something even more chilling.
He’s talking about his girlfriend in the past tense
.
And then I remember Lewis calling out:
it’s really urgent. It’s about Sahara!
‘Did you . . . I mean, is she . . .’ I let the question hang in the air, afraid to remind him of the dreadful things he’s done to the others – and what he still might be
planning to do to
me
.
Ade smiles sadly. ‘She was never going to be one of life’s contented people, Alice. There would always have been some drama or other. This way she did finally get to be centre-stage
in her own little story. Almost a happy ending.’
Oh, God. He’s killed again.
‘What did you do to her?’
‘It wasn’t painful. I’m not deviant, or a monster.’
That’s exactly what he is
. ‘Did she have to die?’
‘Everyone has to die when their time is right.’
‘But that’s not your decision.’
‘She was warned enough times.’
Warned?
What did he do to her? I judged her harshly, but perhaps I should have tried harder to understand. ‘Couldn’t you have just split up, rather than killing
her?’
He sighs again. ‘This obsession you have with death, Alice, it’s really not very seemly in a young woman. It could take over your life, you know.’
Death
has
dominated my life for so long, yet I failed to consider Ade.
Someone close to Meggie
.
Someone with the opportunity
.
Someone with the motive
. . .
‘Ade, was there . . . more than friendship between you and my sister?’
He scowls. ‘I didn’t want to
date
her, Alice. My feelings for her weren’t grubby or sexual. She was a kindred spirit, with the potential to be great.’
Until you took that potential away
.
‘But she’s nothing compared to you, Alice. You are a gem. Bright. Increasingly beautiful. And as we’ve said, loyal. You must promise never to underestimate yourself.’
Is that a hint that he might let me live?
‘Ade, what about your family? Do they understand you . . . what you are?’
‘I have little in common with them. A surname. Oh, and skin that burns the second it comes into contact with sun.’ He sits up, but keeps his back to me. He’s holding something.
The knife?
‘I almost didn’t follow you here, Alice. Thailand, with my complexion? You might as well have led me down to hell. Still, the nights are cooler. I’ve always been more of a
night owl.’
I don’t feel cool. My skin is burning, especially where he’s tied me up. I shift my head slightly to see how he’s done it. Then I gulp.
I am held in place by four red silk scarves.
‘At least, after this, my parents might understand what they did.’
I try not to let myself think about what that could mean. ‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘None. You and Meggie had no idea how lucky you were. Siblings are to be cherished. The same genes, yet different. Nature’s throw of the dice.’
‘An only child?’
‘The apple of my mother’s eye. Perhaps I wouldn’t have liked to share her affections. Or, more importantly, her money.’
‘They’re rich?’
He turns back and smiles at me. ‘Obviously, money does come in handy – for things like last-minute plane tickets! But I’m not an ostentatious person. Not like
Lewis
. I
don’t see what you see in him at all, Alice.’
‘He’s a friend,’ I say, hoping Ade won’t realise the significance of the things I said when I thought he was Lewis.
Ade considers this. ‘Yes. Separate bedrooms – handily for me.’
I say nothing. He must surely realise that Lewis will try to wake me again, that the danger will increase with every hour he lets me live.
Yet he seems in no hurry as he talks about his childhood, about realising he was different – or, as he puts it,
special
. The longer he goes on, the less aware of my presence he
seems, as he lists a teacher who failed to spot his potential, the classmates who bullied him because they envied him.
I don’t know how much more of his self-pity I can stand. ‘And all of that means what you did is OK, does it?’
‘Don’t you realise I’m
ill
, Alice? A tragic waste of a brilliant mind. I’m no ordinary
criminal
. If the police ever catch up with me – which is
hardly likely, with their track record so far – then they’ll find me a nice cosy secure hospital, full of very smart psychiatrists asking me endless questions about why I did what I did
and wanting to know absolutely everything about my appalling childhood.
‘You know, after so long not being able to talk to anyone, I think I’d quite like the chance to discuss myself endlessly. But not enough to risk being caught.’
He
is
going to kill me. ‘Why do you hate the rest of the world so much?’
Ade frowns. ‘Alice, that’s below the belt. I was driven by love, not hatred. Apart from anything else, if I didn’t love
you,
you wouldn’t be alive. There have
been so many opportunities.’
‘Like the fire at the lab?’
He winces. ‘A little close for comfort, I admit. I only wanted to get you out of that place. I do so hate being excluded. And I also thought a near-death experience might put you off your
tedious geek friend. I hadn’t counted on him whisking you away on a romantic tropical holiday to get into your pants.’
I want to scream back at him that not everyone is as devious as he is. ‘He was helping me.’
‘So sweet. But what humans dress up as altruism is nothing but a façade. A means to an end. You scratch my back, and so on . . .’
‘It’s not like that for other people, Ade. You must realise that. With treatment you might be able to—’
‘
Treatment?’
he scoffs. ‘What I have in mind is more romantic. We could go now, you and I. Walk away from the humdrum. You’re too special to waste your
life.’
‘What?’
Gradually, I become aware of something else.
Noises.
Outside.
It could be a cockroach or a cat. Or maybe it’s the building cooling down, now we’ve reached the coldest part of the night.