Kathryn swallowed, looking unsure of herself. ‘Absolutely. Of course.’
The girl has since been identified as Amy Heath, a twenty-eight-year-old nurse from a village just outside Crosshaven. I read the newspaper article reporting her death and the statements of grief made by her family and thought, Thank god it wasn’t you, and I didn’t even feel guilty for it.
Just as I parked down the road from Jack’s, I called Christopher. ‘I got the key,’ I said.
‘What key?’
‘Jack’s house key.’
‘I told you not to break in there.’
‘Is it breaking in if I have a key?’
‘Yes,’ he said, exasperated.
‘Well, I’m here now and I wanted to tell you that you can expect a copy of the photograph this afternoon.’ Which was partly true. If I’m honest with you, I told him just in case something happened to me in there and I didn’t come back out.
‘Ada,’ he said seriously. I heard the rustle of clothing and I imagined him roughly pulling on his coat. ‘Do not enter his house.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s Thursday – Jack goes into the city on Thursdays.’
‘I’m coming to meet you. Wait for me.’
I waited ten minutes before I got out of my car and walked towards Jack’s. I was so eager to get inside, I wanted to sprint, but that would draw attention. If a neighbour caught me entering, I’d tell them I was scoping out the space for a surprise birthday party we were organising for him in January. That way, the neighbour wouldn’t let on to Jack I’d been there.
I’d just pushed the key into the lock when Christopher appeared at the end of the driveway. ‘Ada,’ he whispered fiercely.
Veins flooded with adrenaline, I turned the key and pushed inside.
‘What the hell?’ he hissed, hurrying after me.
‘Get in here before someone sees you,’ I snapped.
He hesitated only a second before crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him. He glowered at me. ‘We need to leave,’ he said. ‘Now.’
‘As soon as I’ve got the picture, we will.’ Before he could say another word, I jogged up the stairs and swung into the study.
My mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of shock – the photograph was gone and in its place was another. A framed quote, ‘All is fair in love and war.’
‘Bastard,’ I breathed.
‘Where’s the photograph?’ asked Christopher, coming up behind me.
‘Gone.’ I kicked the shredder beside the desk. It toppled over. I was angry, so very angry. ‘All is fair in love and war … he is an arrogant son of a bitch.’
Christopher knelt and started scooping strips of paper off the floor and back into the shredder. ‘What’re you talking about?’
I flung my hand out in the direction of the replacement frame. ‘He’s mocking me. He knew I’d seen the photograph and now he’s replaced it with this goading little quote. He’s talking about my sister. All is fair in love and war. He has her,’ I said, anger, panic and frustration tightening around my chest like a thick vine. ‘He has her.’
‘Ada.’ Christopher stood and took my face in his hands. He was so warm. I blinked up at his dark eyes and felt myself calm. I took a deep breath and then another and another.
‘I need to find the photograph. We could look, it might be here, we could—’
‘If you’re right and he switched the photograph out for that quote, it means he’s onto you. The photograph is long gone. We need to leave, okay?’
Usually, someone talking to me slowly like I’m a little bit dim would set my teeth on edge, but he was obviously nervous. As an off-duty police officer who’d broken into someone’s home, he could lose his job. I nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’ His hands were still cupping my face, tilting my head back just a little. It reminded of being a teenager in the seconds just before he’d kiss me goodnight at the door. ‘Okay,’ he said again, dropping his hands. ‘Let’s go.’
But as he turned, we heard a key in the door downstairs.
We stilled.
Jack’s voice rose through the floorboards.
Christopher grabbed my hand and started down the hall and through the only other open door on the landing. Jack’s bedroom. Christopher whirled me around the king-size bed, searching for somewhere to hide.
‘Here,’ I whispered, tugging him towards the door opposite the bed. We spilled into the en-suite, hearts racing. Just before Christopher could pull the door closed, I put the flat of my palm on it to stop him, leaving it open just a crack and whispered, ‘He might hear it shut.’
Laughter chimed down the hall seconds before the bedroom door swung open. Music clicked on and filled the entire house, breathy and fast. Through the gap, I glimpsed long blonde hair the same honey shade as yours, and my breath caught. Jack and the girl were kissing, hungrily, angrily, his fingers tangling in her hair, tugging her head back so he could deepen the kiss. She was petite and slim like you, but she had her back to me so I couldn’t see her face.
Then he tugged her dress over her head and removed her bra before picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. She squealed. He climbed on top of her, capturing her mouth again. The thought of you being pinned beneath him made me feel panicked and queasy. I fought the desire to throw the door open because I couldn’t tell if the girl was you. I looked to Christopher, but he was studiously turned away, too much of a gentleman to watch.
Jack and the blonde pawed at each other. Soon, Jack was naked too. I leaned forward, trying to see the girl’s face but Jack was on her again, sinking into her. He threw his head back and groaned, ‘Elodie.’
Shock ricocheted through me and I stepped forward. Christopher grabbed my arms and yanked me away. ‘That’s not her,’ he whispered, barely audible over the music.
‘It is,’ I hissed.
I tried to move past him, but he stepped in my path. ‘She has a tattoo on her hip.’
I frowned. ‘Elodie doesn’t have any tattoos.’
‘I know. But she does.’
I moved over to the gap in the door with Christopher hot on my heels in case I decided to fly in there. The blonde moaned loudly, her legs circling Jack’s waist. I couldn’t see her hip.
‘Elodie,’ he groaned again.
My head whipped up to Christopher.
‘It’s not her,’ he mouthed.
Their sex was loud and rough. Jack wrapped his hands around her throat. He called your name over and over. I know rough sex, but this was more than that – it was as if he was punishing the girl. Nausea rolled through me. Seconds bled into minutes and my heart raced. If he didn’t release her soon … if he didn’t let her breathe again. Then, just as I was ready to step in, he let her go and she gasped and panted and clung to him. The girl flipped her head to the side and finally I could see her face.
‘It’s not Elodie,’ I breathed. On the back of my relief came disgust. Jack was procuring girls that look like you for sex. How long has he been doing this for? Surely this was proof of his disturbing obsession. Proof he took you.
I turned to Christopher to share my thoughts. But he was leaning over the sink, head out the bathroom window. I went to him.