He had said some odd things last night, but he’d been right about one thing. She had been manipulative by saying fate had brought her to the house, because it had helped get her what she wanted. But now it felt like the real deal. For whatever reason, this whole crazy situation was supposed to happen. And whoever that strange man actually was, he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. What could he do to her that would make her feel worse than she did now? If he’d wanted to murder her or rape her, he’d have done it by now. He’d had plenty of opportunities.
Her leg ached like a bastard – she needed rest and painkillers after being up and about all day. So either she went inside the bungalow and faced him, or she found a park bench to sleep on. Where there’d be more dangerous men lurking in the shadows. The psycho in the bungalow or the rapist in the park? The choice was hers: an arbitrary one, maybe, like tossing a coin, but it was still a choice. Every decision she’d made in life had turned out to be wrong anyway, so why bother trying to guess the outcome of this one? Sinead slowly raised her head. Her hands gripped tightly around the crutch handles. Taking a slow, deep breath she fixed her gaze on the darkened bungalow.
Better the devil you know.
33
The final exam was due to start, but the lone candidate was still missing. If she didn’t arrive within the next hour he would have to mark her down as absent. Of course, Sinead might never return – the thought had crossed his mind more than once. If she made him go looking for her, the penalty would be severe. Too much time and effort had been invested in this project. Miles drained the last of his milky tea and was in the middle of rubbing down the mug with a handkerchief when he heard gravel crunching on the driveway. Taking care not to leave more fingerprints, he set the mug on the table and relaxed into the armchair.
The porch door opened and he listened out for the familiar sound of Sinead’s crutches tapping down onto the floor tiles. Nearly a minute elapsed. Miles waited patiently in the dark living room. No doubt she was having second thoughts, or perhaps preparing for her grand entrance like an actress waiting in the wings. Then keys turned in locks, the door creaked and the light switch flicked on. An illuminated Sinead gasped when she saw him.
‘I made you jump.’ Miles smiled benignly.
‘Yeah. You did.’ Her voice was strained. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just sitting here in the dark, wondering when you’d be back.’
Scrutinising her face, he registered suppressed fear hidden behind an insouciant expression. It was the same amusing look he’d seen on the faces of numerous exam candidates over the years: a dawning realisation that insufficient revision had been done for the set questions, while playing it cool in front of their better-prepared friends. Miles picked up the Lewisham Hospital card he’d found in Sinead’s bedroom. ‘You should have told me about your check-up. I could have given you a lift.’
‘I didn’t want to trouble you.’ She spoke softly. When she looked up, Miles detected a change in her usual mood. The sparkle in her eyes had gone, as well as the sarcasm in her voice. She was subdued, distant… defeated.
‘Is everything in order?’ he asked.
‘What’s that?’
‘Your leg. Any complications with the healing process?’
‘Doctor said he’d take the cast off next time. Another four weeks, hopefully.’
‘Good. You’ll soon have your strength back, then. You’ll be needing it.’
She was staring at something; his eyes followed the direction of her gaze to The Talented Mr. Ripley paperback, perched open across the arm of his chair. He’d put it down there when he got up to make tea. The back-cover blurb had caught his attention and he’d read some random passages. He grasped the book and rotated it in his hands.
‘It’s about time I caught up on some reading.’ He thumbed through the pages. ‘Interestingly enough, this story was written by a woman. You might enjoy it. From what I’ve read so far, she appears to have an uncanny awareness of the male psyche.’
Sinead was leaning back on her crutches, her hips twisted to the side as if her whole body was being drawn towards the front door.
‘Aren’t you going to sit down?’
She shook her head, the movement sharp and jerky. Miles allowed himself a moment to savour her reaction to the book. Finally, it was all out in the open and there’d be no need for a tedious conversation to address the issue. Sinead knew that he knew that she knew that he was no longer Elliot. With no more time-wasting preliminaries, he was keen to proceed to the evening’s main event.
‘I’m glad you’re home. I said you shouldn’t be much longer. We’ve been waiting for you.’
Instantly Sinead perked up. ‘Who’s been waiting for me?’
‘We have a surprise guest. Why don’t you go and say hello?’ He gestured casually towards the kitchen.
Confused, Sinead looked at the shut door. ‘Is Dylan here?’
‘No.’ He stifled a chuckle at the eagerness in her voice. ‘I seriously doubt you’ll be seeing him again.’
‘We’re going out tonight. He’s coming here to pick me up.’
Of course, it was possible that Dylan had ignored his warning and still intended to take Sinead out tonight. But her protestation was unconvincing; more spurned desperation than giddy excitement. And if Dylan was foolish enough to arrive unannounced, he would be dealt with accordingly.
‘Wouldn’t you rather someone else was waiting for you? Joel, perhaps?’
Sinead ignored his question and hobbled over to the kitchen. Slowly Miles rose up from the armchair, watching her turn the handle and push open the door. Darkness greeted her as she went in. Miles felt his pulse quickening; delicious anticipation as she fumbled for the switch. Not wanting to miss a second, he crept up behind her as the kitchen light came on.
Over Sinead’s shoulder, he had a clear view of the scene he’d prepared especially for her. Gaffer-taped to a chair, mouth gagged, was the visitor, sitting comfortably where he’d left her three hours earlier: Gwen Francombe. Seeing Sinead and then himself coming up behind, the woman’s bloodshot eyes flashed with terror.
An exquisite silence descended momentarily, and then Sinead was blurting out, ‘Oh my God! What the fuck?!’
Miles had them trapped. The back door to the garden was locked; the key safely in his pocket. A rush of excitement surged through him as the game commenced. He lurched forward, sending Sinead stumbling into the kitchen. Miles leaned back against the door until it clicked shut. Sinead’s mouth was agape, a loose strand of hair hanging over her face. He waited patiently for her to speak.
‘Why is Gwen…’ She hesitated. ‘Why is Gwen tied to the chair?’
‘She’s perfectly comfortable. I sent a friendly text inviting her over for tea. We hadn’t seen each other for such a long time. Isn’t that right, Gwen?’
Gwen mumbled something from behind the tape. From his rear trouser pocket Miles took the book-group photo and showed it to Sinead.
‘Good times. Funnily enough, this is the only meeting we ever had here. Jackie’s place had an outbreak of bedbugs so Elliot reluctantly volunteered the use of number 26. I remember I was quite taken with the place. I thought, yes, I can see myself living here one day.’
‘You killed him. You killed Elliot?’ Sinead’s eyes met Gwen’s. The older woman confirmed Sinead’s supposition with a subtle nod of the head.