Page 37 of The Serial Killer’s Sister (The Serial Killer’s Daughter #3)

The second I open my eyes, my stomach is a hot ball of nerves with anticipation of what lies ahead today. My lids feel swollen, my eyeballs gritty from lack of sleep.

At least I have my eyeballs. For now.

My phone pings while I’m in the shower. I speed the process up and skip conditioning my hair.

I’m about to step out when a vision of myself on a mortuary slab makes me get back in.

I wet my hair again and apply the conditioner.

May as well look my best for the coroner .

If I shared that thought with DI Walker, I’d likely be chastised for making a joke out of something serious.

Ross would get it. He’s used to me covering my real emotions with humour.

Will I ever find someone else like that? Will I even be around to do so?

When I grab my mobile I see that the ping is a voicemail notification, which is strange as I didn’t hear it ring.

‘Would help if you remembered to unmute your phone, Anna,’ I mutter as I tap the volume button.

I check who last called and see the name: DI Walker.

I take a steadying breath before playing it, knowing it’s about today.

A stream of air hisses out between my lips as DI Walker’s voice informs me he’s on my doorstep, waiting.

Has the murder already taken place? Neither the police nor I have any idea what time Henry might carry out the killing – it could well have happened just after midnight.

I throw on my bathrobe and fly downstairs, opening the door with such force it bangs against the hallway wall, leaving a handle-shaped hole in the plaster.

I glance at it, mentally adding it to a to-do list of things I’ll have to sort out myself now Ross isn’t here, before landing my focus on DI Walker, who’s holding a takeaway cup of coffee in each hand.

‘Woah. Steady on,’ he says.

‘What’s happened? He’s done it, hasn’t he? We failed to stop him in time.’

‘It hasn’t happened. We’ve not failed, as far as we’re aware.’ DI Walker’s tone is firm, positive, but it doesn’t reassure me. I should be glad, as it means an innocent woman hasn’t lost her life, yet there’s a tinge of dismay lurking beneath the surface that it also means this isn’t over.

I swallow, almost choking on the hard lump in my throat.

I could still be the intended sixth victim.

DI Walker hands me one of the cups. ‘I got a latte. Everyone likes a latte, right?’

I take it, mumbling a thanks. My attention is on what’s tucked under his arm.

‘Was that on the step?’ I cock my head, trying to see the envelope – checking if it’s the same sort that Henry’s been sending. DI Walker looks down, then up, his eyebrows raised as if it’s a surprise to him, too, that it’s there. ‘Nope. Henry sent this directly to me at the station.’

My heart plummets. ‘Oh, really? Why would he do that? Why change it now, the day he intends to kill?’ A sense of panic rises up into my throat, preventing further words, and I take some deep breaths.

DI Walker waits patiently while I regain my composure, then tackles my questions.

‘Maybe he thinks you might ignore it. Or maybe he wants me to go with you this time?’

That makes sense. Henry wants to expose me in front of law enforcement. Trap me. He can’t afford for me to come after what I assume is the final clue – the showdown – alone.

‘Let’s go and sit in the lounge,’ I say, heading back down the hallway. I hear the slow, dull thuds of DI Walker’s shoes close behind. He doesn’t seem rushed, like he has all the time in the world to figure this all out and stop a woman’s – my – murder.

‘Go ahead, tell me,’ I say, taking the white plastic lid from the cup and sipping the latte.

‘Maybe you want to get dressed first?’ DI Walker indicates towards my robe, and an embarrassed heat flushes my cheeks.

‘Right. I’ll be two secs,’ I say, passing the latte back to him and darting out. I pull on the first items of clothes I come across – jogging bottoms and daisy-print t-shirt – and run back downstairs. ‘Okay. Go,’ I say, retrieving my coffee cup.

‘My team have been up all night, but no one saw who dropped this off at the station.’

‘No CCTV?’ I ask, somewhat sceptically.

‘Plenty. Somehow, he avoided it. Or there’s a possibility he got someone else to deliver it for him and we missed it.

They’re still going through the footage though because it would be helpful if we knew what Henry looked like.

The only photo available to us is one taken when he was arrested as a teen.

And you haven’t been able to give us a description of what he looked like from that point either, so we’re very much in the dark.

He could be anyone – or any bloke could be him. ’

‘That was my worry,’ I say. ‘Or my paranoia, you could say. And actually, now I think of it, I’ve seen a man here a few times.

On the street, I mean.’ DI Walker’s eyes widen.

‘Just passing by,’ I add quickly. ‘But he struck me as a bit odd. I wondered if it was Henry. Now, with what you’re saying, it could be it was him, or that Henry’s put someone up to it, paid them to deliver the envelopes? ’

DI Walker gives an exasperated sigh. ‘And you’re mentioning this man now?’

‘Sorry. I’m not going to tell you about every person that walks past my house, detective. Maybe you should’ve posted someone on my doorstep if you were that worried.’

He hesitates a moment, then says, ‘I’ve been outside every night, Anna. For the most part, anyway. Once I’ve finished with the team, I keep a watchful eye on the property.’

This is news to me, and I can’t hold back my surprise. ‘Even last night?’

‘Not until late, so I appreciate I might’ve missed something. It’s the early hours of the morning I feel you are at your most vulnerable.’

‘Right, well … thanks. I guess.’

Is it DI Walker that I’ve seen, then? Or heard, at least? I wish I’d realised last night – would have saved the anxiety and insomnia. Although, that time awake did lead to a noteworthy find. One I should probably mention now, before I get chastised for not informing the police of something else.

‘I made an interesting connection last night,’ I say, getting up to retrieve my laptop.

I open the small article I found buried in online archives of a local newspaper.

The headline reads My son took his own life after rape allegation.

DI Walker turns the screen and continues reading it.

He lets out a big sigh when he’s finished.

‘This relates to someone at the children’s home you and Henry lived in,’ he says.

‘Yes. It’s more … personal … than that, though.’

‘Oh? In what way?’

‘The “young man” referred to here is the brother of Craig Beaumont, the headmaster of Seabrook Prep School.’ DI Walker’s eyebrow arcs, and he sits forward. ‘And the girl …’ I take a deep breath. ‘The girl who accused him of rape was supposedly me.’

The room becomes quiet, like it’s been muted.

I allow this to sink in before continuing.

‘It wasn’t me, though. I wasn’t the one who accused Neil of rape.

I think … I think it was my friend, Kirsty.

And I also believe her brother Dean took the law into his own hands to deliver justice.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter how it happened now, the point is Henry might’ve used this knowledge and my connection to Neil to convince Craig to create this smear campaign and get his revenge by suspending me.

I don’t imagine he’s backing me with the parents and board. I will be fired.’

‘It’s not actual proof, though – just circumstantial.’

‘I guess. And it could be a massive coincidence, I suppose. I admit, I actually thought Craig might be Henry to start with.’ I laugh awkwardly.

DI Walker’s face is thoughtful, his mouth twisted in concentration. ‘It’s worth following up – I’ll let the team know.’

‘Good, thanks.’

He hits a button on his mobile and gets up with it pressed against his ear. He begins to relay this new piece of information as he walks to the kitchen, where his voice becomes muffled. I sip more latte while I await his return.

‘Well, anyway,’ he says, sitting back down and slapping his hands onto his thighs.

‘The clock is ticking; we need to press on. We’ve only hours left to solve this puzzle.

’ DI Walker slides out the paper from the envelope.

‘What is the point of this final clue do you think?’ He hands me the piece of paper.

I realise he’s not wearing gloves and he hasn’t made me either, so I guess this is a copy and the original has been filed in evidence.

I take it from him. It shakes in my hand as I read the short riddle.

Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.

It’s the last promise you made. It’s the first promise you broke.

Meet me where the lie was spoke.

‘I–I’m not …’ I stammer, reaching forward to put my coffee on the table before my twitching hand causes it to spill.

My vision distorts and the walls feel as though they’re moving, closing in on me.

On my secret. Our shared secret. Just as Henry has wanted.

It’s what this has all been about. But I still don’t know why .

The only way to find out is to go where the riddle points to, and confront Henry.

My only hope of living through this is to take DI Walker.

But once it’s all laid bare, the police will learn the truth and my life will still be over.

If I go alone and Henry intends to kill me, he’ll make up his own version to tell the world.

It all comes down to what I have left to live for.