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‘Here’s the thing about you suing me, Max.’ She spat out his name, unable to bear it on her tongue. ‘I have the ultimate defence: the truth. So, go on then, file the lawsuit, I dare you. I’ll see you in court. And you know how that goes, don’t you? It will have to prove whether my statement was true, which means we get to re-do your rape trial. All the same witnesses, the victim testimonies, the evidence. There won’t be any criminal charges but at least everyone will know what you are, forever. Rapist.’
‘Thank you for your unbiased advice, Mr Epps,’ she said. ‘But it appears you have underestimated me. I would be willing to lose everything, destroy myself, if it also meant destroying your client. That seems a fair trade. Now you have a good day, Mr Epps.’
People you could count on your fingers who cared about you as much as you cared about them. The people who would look for you if you disappeared. Could she bottle this feeling, live off it for a while? Fill herself with something good and ignore the slick of blood on her hands, not think about the gun in the sound of
that mug hitting the table or those dead eyes waiting for her in the darkness of a blink? Oh, too late.
Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears? PS. Remember to always kill two birds with one stone.
There was a crinkled piece of duct tape stuck to the middle of her heel. The silver finish on the tape had muddied to a dirty grey. Pip must have run over it somewhere on her route, unknowingly picked it up.
Hand in hand: the boy with a dimple in his chin, and the dead girl walking.
You’re my person. My little one. My Sarge. And I’m supposed to protect you.’
Short for the Duct Tape Killer.’
She talked about seeing some lines, chalk lines, I think, that looked like three stick figures, near the house. I never saw them and it was probably just our neighbour’s kids. Also, a couple of dead birds – pigeons – had been brought into the house through the cat flap.
Pip glanced at the screen as she picked up the phone. No Caller ID.
She also mentioned getting a few prank calls. That was in the week before she went missing.
A hand collided with her face, over her mouth, blocking the scream before it could live. An arm around her neck, bent at the elbow, tightening, tightening.
She was going to die. Shewasgoingtodieshewasgoingtodieshewasdeadshewasdeadshewasgoingtodie.
DT had taken her face, but she had taken it back.
‘They won’t believe me,’ Pip told herself, in her own voice now. ‘They never believe us.’
He was dead. Jason Bell, the DT Killer: one and the same and he was dead.
He was dead and she’d killed him.
He hadn’t; he was dead.
A near-full roll of grey duct tape. That was exactly what she needed. ‘Fucking duct tape,’ Pip muttered to herself, grabbing it and shoving it inside her bag.
dead girl walking.
‘I suppose if you were ever involved in anything like this,’ he said, the after-laugh smile still on his face, ‘you’d know exactly how to get away with it.’
in another life, she and Andie would have escaped their father, together.
