The Killer She Knew, page 14
“Yo...u ..poi...son..ed me?”
“Don’t give me that, Zach; you make me sound evil.” I lean over the counter, his body scratching against the fridge. “It’s called penance....” I look toward the door leading to the garden. “This is my best. Remember? I promised”
His eyes widens, and he tries to speak, though no words come out.
He is still shaking; I’m almost worried; he asks, “Why?”
No, he didn’t just ask me why.
I laugh as I loosen the scarf around my neck, and for some reason, I feel like a bird who can fly.
I walk toward the counter. “There’s something about people who’ve done wrong. They either confess and plead for forgiveness, or they deny it to the very end. You, on the other hand,” “You did neither.” I move around, grabbing a knife and smirking when I notice the gasp of fear he lets out. I roll my eyes, and I grab an apple.
“ You have shown no remorse whatsoever.” I bang the knife on the chopping board in front of me. “I honestly had to take a second look at you and wonder if you are human at all.”
His eyes stay fixed on me, perhaps wary about the knife I’m wielding. “Do you ever feel sorry for your victims’ families?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. “Do you?” I yell as I kneel by his side, tilting my head as I examine him. “I felt it: every ounce of pain, for myself, and for everyone else. I lost my youth and focused everything on bringing you to justice.”
“Oh, c-cut the crap,” he says daringly. “You’re just another escaped looney.” His face morphs with an expression I can’t put a word to, but I can swear to the heavens! That was the same expression Mum wore on the day she said, “You. Devil.”
I stand up and slice the apple on the chopping board. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Nick.”
“I—” he struggles to get the words out. “W-who are you talk-talking.”
“Ssh,” I cut him off, squatting down to look him in the eye. “Be careful, Nick, you can’t go around telling tales,” I whisper as I run the bladeless side of the knife over his cheek. “You are Zo-ey?”
“Her sister, Nick,” I say.
“That couldn’t be...” He gives a ghastly breath, “I buried...Zo-ey.”
I stand to my feet as I ignore his lies. She wasn’t buried but found in a bar’s basement, so what difference did it make? He killed her.
I watch through the curtain as men in black uniforms run past it, and I know it’s the detective. I put the knife into the sink as I play into an act, squatting beside Nick.
“Somebody, please help,” I say as Nick’s mouth gasps open in awe.
The door bursts open, and I quickly get off the ground as Frank walks in with other officers behind him.
I come to my feet as I move out of the way, staying at a reasonable distance. I watch as Nick’s eyes widen in horror at seeing the police. I can’t even hide the smile on my face.
Frank yells into his walkie-talkie, calling for paramedics. Then he rushes over to me.
“Emma, are you okay?” He touches my shoulder. I nod.
“What happened to the camera?” he asks.
I shrug.
Of course, I broke it.
Chapter 29
EMMA
“That was a narrow escape,” the lanky police officer says as he runs his eyes around the white-painted room with a beeping monitor.“Good thinking about telling Mia to contact Ray because you thought, you were in danger.”
“Where is Detective Dilaud?” I ask, bringing his attention forward.
“He is at the precinct, sorting through the evidence.” He takes a seat on a chair beside my bed. “So what actually happened there?”
“He has been sick for a while- diarrhea; I was trying to offer him something to drink, then he collapsed.”
“That was close,” the detective says. “It is terrifying to know that he didn’t stop killing. We thought it was three victims, but it was actually fifteen, including his grandmother.” He snaps open a writing pad. “You could have died. You scared me and Ray.”
“I knew you guys were close by. Did you check the gym locker he mentioned in the novel?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “He held all his trophies and evidence there.”
“Trophies,” I say, and the word sends a shiver down my spine.
“Yeah, he is sick.” He lets out a sigh. “We keep meeting at the hospital after a near-death experience,” he says with a smile. I don’t feel like it, but I smile back.
“But we have him now, right?” I ask, feeling my body weakened. “That makes everything worth it.”
Frank nods. “Yes. We have your statement, Georgina’s, the novel, and the evidence:” Frank stands to his feet,
He smiles at me, and it’s a smile that says, ‘Victory is near.’ He pats me on the back
“I hope his family won’t interfere this time.”
“They didn’t know that he was back in Monthel while the family were still in London.”
“so they never knew about him impersonating the brother?”
“He never really used the brother’s identity except as a pen name, but Towson said the father called and stated he will work with the authorities in all capacity.”
“Wow!!”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Ray should be here in some minutes,” he says as he walks out of the room.
I sigh, feeling like the worst is over. My eyes trail over to the window, and I can’t help but remember Zoe. Even though everything is finally over, a faint memory of her plays in my head, and I can’t push it out. It’s a memory of the last time we met.
THREE DAYS BEFORE SHE died, I went to the library to meet Henry, and there was my sister and boyfriend, perhaps not kissing on the cheeks but a French kiss.
I can recall the look on their faces like it was yesterday. There was absolutely no surprise or remorse. It was like I was the one acting strangely. I was the one coming in between them.
The audacity of Henry: “I never saw you in a romantic way. Let’s just be friends.”
Zoe rolled her eyes and giggled as she watched my only integrity disappear. I rushed towards her and pushed her. “Stay away from Henry.”
“No,” she replied dryly, catching me off guard and breaking my heart.
She was popular, unlike me, yet it had to be him.
I was tired of being the people-pleaser who placed other people’s happiness before my own, so having knowledge of amanita phalloides, also known as ‘death cap,’ came as a plus. I began to cook with these mushrooms—if she died, Henry and I would be together.
On the day she died, I heard that she had gone to a club. Of course, when Zoe would go to the club, I could bet my life that she was meeting other guys. She was that sociable and beautiful; she could get anyone. She could even get everyone. Why, then, did she want my Henry?
I was so angry that I went to the club to confront her again or maybe find her in the arms of another man, to take proof and show it to Henry. I was hoping that it would help return him to his senses and that he would see that he belonged to me. On getting to the club, Zoe wasn’t with another man, but I had already built up a lot of anger. So much so that when she came to ask me what I was doing at the club, I couldn’t hold it in, and we got into a fight at the basement.
“Oh my gosh, Emma, stop being pathetic. He likes me, and I like him. That’s the end of the story!” she yelled at me, and I lunged at her.
We fought. We fought so hard.
I remember Zoe fainting during the fight, and I knew what had happened to her—the mushrooms.
Seeing Zoe like that was supposed to make me feel sad or worried, but no, all I still felt was anger, then fear. I didn’t want to be locked up for her death.
Thankfully, I had the scarf my mum gave me––the exact scarf from the killer’s signature that had swept the news. I tied it around Zoe’s neck. Then I ran.
I was scared that tests would be running on Zoe: DNA, fingerprint tests on the scarf. I was all over it. Evidence.
Even the absurd idea of the killer confessing to the other murders but telling the police he didn’t kill Zoe crossed my mind. I was so scared and convinced I would be caught that I even started making peace with it.
But when the police knocked on our door that fateful evening, and said Zoe had died from an overdose, I couldn’t understand it because that was a sick joke. Perhaps there was a mix-up somewhere with the victim’s files? Or the killer had helped me so that he could blackmail me because of it. I was free, but every passing moment was like a ticking bomb about to explode, so I wanted to know what the police knew. I visited the police station under the guise of being worried about my sister’s case. At first, I was scared. Walking into the same place that could get me arrested, but even until today, it seems the police are still oblivious—it works in my favour.
A day after her death, I was certain of being caught. When Mum washed my dirty laundry, which included the gown I wore the day she died, I was afraid. The dirt. Blood. Evidence, yet I wasn’t caught.
Then, two weeks after her death, my heart almost dropped when I met Georgina, who mentioned there was a witness. I thought she saw me and Zoe that day but to my surprise, there was another Zoey. The one my sister spoke about a lot, and from Nick’s novel, she was his victim, and the only one he buried her body, which meant the police never knew she was his victim.
So, I got close to Zach, who Georgina suspected to be the killer. I pretended and played innocent while I learnt everything about the murder and discovered the truth. I felt confident in the fact that I was too close to the case, yet I wasn’t caught.
Though I had gotten away, I still had to make sure the stupid police didn’t link his murder to
Zoey, whose body has not yet been found, so when Nick wrote about it, I made sure to delete it from the USB before giving the evidence to the detective.
I should be in the clear now. Finally
Even until the very end, it was shocking how Zach didn’t know who I was or even a bit of recognition, but at least I kept my promise to him when he asked me to help him with the story. I told him, “I will do my best.” I did my best.
Now, all I needed was for Zach to go away with all the murders, but not in jail. I wished he would die. Dead men can’t talk, right?
Still nervous.
I have to find Henry.
I have to leave town.
The clicking sound of someone’s heel down the hall causes me to look up. Her short hair is now black with purple highlights. The blue mascara on her eyes gives her a smoky look as she walks into my room like she’s a model on a catwalk.
“Mia?”
Chapter 30
MIA
I SMILE AT THE LADY—MOST likely a nurse from the way she is dressed—walking out of the door, and she looks at me, giving me a very brief smile in return. And people wonder why I try to mind my business every time—well, TRY, I never actually succeed in minding my business, but who cares, right?
The passageway is empty except for a few nurses who look like they would rather be doing anything but their jobs. The click-clack sound of my heels pulls their attention toward me like a magnet, and I flick my hair as I revel in the attention.
As I reach the door to Emma’s room, I glance at the basket in my hands, hoping the fruits I brought would be enough to cheer her up—and probably instantly make her fine, like magic. Of course, they should be. Who doesn’t like fruits? I chuckle silently before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
The familiar white walls of a hospital room greets me, and I take a minute to just observe, wondering what harm it would be if they just added a splash of colour, even something as little as jam recklessly spilt by a child. I have never, even as a nurse, been particularly fond of the plain white paint. It is too gloomy, and every patient needs a little colour to cheer them up and speed up their recovery. But who am I to oppose?
Emma is still lying in bed; her eyes move lazily from the TV on the wall to me. I see a faint look of what I read as relief spread out across her features. She looks a little bit worn out. But who wouldn’t be after losing all that she could call family? I feel my heart clench at the sight of her and immediately register that as a challenge to make a smile. Not that anyone can resist my charm.
“Mia?” she says in recognition as I smile and place the fruits on the empty table beside her bed. I take a seat by the table, joining her to watch the TV, as the strong smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils.
Although all I can think about are the unfortunate incidents we have both been through together, I shake off the thoughts, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Nick was dangerous from the beginning, and we had suffered much more harm than he would ever suffer in jail. We lost lives, and all he got in return was some time to cool off in jail. What if he figured out a way to break out of jail and eventually cause more havoc?
I notice her gaze lingering on my hair, and I smile knowingly. I love how she always notices the subtle details in everything.
“Your hair,” she begins.
“Yes! I stopped by the salon to get my hair curled,” I interjected, happy that she had noticed it. I just couldn’t resist it; looking pretty in any situation is never a crime. I flick my hair again for effect, and Emma smiles.
“Not to worry, I’ll take you to a salon once you’re out of here—bill’s on you, by the way.”
Emma chuckles and leans back on her pillow. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, unsure of how to break the news to Emma. How do I tell her that Dick—Nick—didn’t lose his arm or get poisoned? All he got was a pat on the hand—jail! If it were left to me, I would probably have overdosed him and made him pay for his sins. Maybe something more painful...
I give Emma’s hand gentle taps to reassure her that I am still there for her and that I won’t leave anytime soon. She looks at me and sighs deeply, and I understand that the right words are inconceivable at this point in time. Maybe she wouldn’t speak, but she would definitely appreciate some tangerines. I know how much she loves them.
I grab a tangerine and begin to peel it. She looks at me, and I smirk. You want it, don’t you? I make a show, twirling the tangerine in my hand and watching her gaze briefly follow my movement. She is like these fruits—with a skin of bitterness and a sweet centre. Though she lost a family member, she always showed everyone her sweet side. If only anyone knew the bitterness in her.
“Do you know the pleasant thing about tangerines?” I finally say. Honestly, I was tired of the silence. It always made me so uncomfortable, and my aversion to silence had made me into a chatterbox.
“What?”
“They’re not as stubborn as oranges—imagine peeling an orange with your hand.” She is easy to read if only one knows her nature. The breakfast, lunch, and dinners she made for Nick. I lightly shrug my shoulder to get the shivers away.
Emma laughs, startling me from my thoughts. “Yeah, right.”
“And Nick got arrested!”
“Yes, I know. Frank mentioned it to me when he was here a few minutes ago.”
I click my tongue. “He beat me to it. Nick really served himself up for that one. I’m glad he was arrested, though I can’t help but think he got off too easy.”
He was a raging lunatic, roaming free in the midst of normal people. Death would have definitely been a better punishment. If only they had let me handle it, but of course, they didn’t trust a pretty nurse to do the dirty work.
After successfully peeling one tangerine, I hand it to Emma, who accepts it with a tired smile. The smile disappears just as quickly as it came.
Emma mumbles some inaudible words, and I lean in closer, mouthing, “Hmm?”
“Nick. What would you have done to him if you had the chance?”
“Easy peasy,” my voice turns into a whisper. “I think he’s better off dead. If I could, I would have ground one of these blood pressure medications into his meal. Call it hypotension.” I let out a hearty laugh. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way as a nurse, but Nick deserves every ounce of bad will that goes his way.
Emma gives me a weird look, but I understand she’s probably shocked at the lengths to which I’d go to ensure that the bastard pays. Oh well, I didn’t know I had an inner demon waiting to be unleashed.
I have been debating whether to tell Emma the truth, but throughout my time living with her, I couldn’t help but notice the shaky hands and voice whenever I tried to talk about the victims and their families. It was like she was paying for her sins for the past ten years- her life was suspended in time.
“Thanks for bringing your families over for the funeral,” she says with a smile of her own as she looks toward the TV. Nick’s story is all over, but Emma’s identity as the brave writer who lived with him for the evidence hasn’t been disclosed to the press.
Ray says it’s the only way she can start afresh with her life after everything. I agree with him.
“So, what are you going to do after this?” Emma asks.
“I will spend more time with my daughter and son.” I look up from the fruit I’m peeling and towards her. “I have been away from them too long.”
After a while, I announce to Emma that I’m leaving, but she is already asleep. She needs the beauty sleep she deserves. I pull the white door of the hospital room towards me as I walk down the hall. I walk out of the hospital, and the loud sound of the ambulance siren flashes up a mental picture of myself witnessing the murder that day.
I shake my head, trying to avoid the thought. Nick got what he deserved, and I have a life to live for myself and my other children. I walk closer to the parking lot, and the strong smell of earth brushes through my nostrils as the looming trees blow in the evening breeze. An unsettling thought sits in my mind, but I shouldn’t see it that way- she has paid for her sins.
I put my key into my car door, turning the key to open it; a mixed feeling washes over me. I jump in, turning on the ignition:
I see an unending future of mixed feelings: joy yet regret.
