The fear in her voice is the last thing I hear before I plough into the woman intent on writing a deadly conclusion. When our bodies collide, the momentum of my leap powers us down the stairs. I can’t tell where Katherine ends and I begin, whose scream is whose, which parts of my body are in pain and which aren’t.
All I know is, when I reach the bottom of those stairs, I reach the end.
CHAPTER 53
Thirteen months later
When Natalya Forsyth’sA Killer Novelwas released, many were horrified, but when it catapulted to the top of the bestseller list, they weren’t surprised. True crime was booming, and people couldn’t get much closer to the action than by reading a book about a murder that was written by a friend of the culprit.
It was a grey, rainy day when Katherine McFarlane learned of Natalya’s stratospheric success. Guards reported that her rageful screams could be heard from the other end of the prison wing.
‘It’s my story!’ she hollered when they rushed to see what was going on. ‘She’s taken my story!’
But as Katherine’s writing group had discussed, no one person owned a story. Truth was subjective. Fact could be fictionalised. And Natalya’s talent had ensured that the book was engrossing enough to earn a slew of five-star reviews.
The only time Katherine’s version of events was shared with readers was in court. Extracts of the damning manuscript were given as evidence, proof of her wicked act.
Sonya West heard the news of Natalya’s success while in her home office. A camera was pointed at her, live streaming her reaction to the followers she had amassed since the truth about Alexa’s death made headlines.
‘My best friend deserved better,’ she sobbed, all the while making sure the T-shirt she had been gifted by a fast-fashion brand was visible in the shot.
Beth Atherton learned the news after dropping her daughters off at day care. The announcement was made by a chipper radio host who had bet their co-star ten pounds it would happen. As the presenter cheered his win, Beth crumbled, unable to understand how profiting from her pain was something to celebrate.
But then again, a stranger’s ability to detach from the horror and embrace the drama was not new to Beth. While she sat in therapy, other people were discussing the worst time of her life over cocktails. While she struggled to leave the house, strangers dissected her experience online, their opinions racking up thousands of views, likes and shares.
Fighting for composure, Beth carried on driving until signs for Bramblethorpe appeared at the roadside. Counting to steady her breathing, like her therapist had taught her, she sailed down the country roads.
When she made it to 147, the sign for Maple Crescent came into view.
When she made it to 153, the house she swore never to set foot in again was beside her.
Beth pushed on the accelerator, meaning that by the time she counted to 155, she had reached her destination. Braking and pulling to a stop behind two cars parked on the road, Beth twisted to look past the SOLD sign at the end of the driveway. More carswere in front of the house at the end of it. A typically well put-together Gabby was waiting beside one of them. When she saw Beth, she waved, a move that made Beth curse. It was too late to drive away now.
‘You made it,’ Gabby said when Beth reached her. ‘Just in time, too. The others are already at the field, but I said I’d wait for you.’
‘What if I hadn’t shown?’
Gabby shrugged. ‘I trusted you would.’
As the women headed for the garden, Beth’s knees knocked.This was the route Alexa took the day she was killed, her brain reminded her, as if she didn’t already know that. As if she didn’t carry that knowledge like a second skin she could never shed.
Sensing Beth’s distress, Gabby linked arms with her until they reached the fence. One after the other, the women clambered over it, with Gabby holding out a steady hand to help Beth. Once over the other side, they walked through the trees to the field where the others were waiting. A small group of people – once strangers, now friends, brought together by tragedy. Solemn despite the bright colours Otis had asked them to wear.
Kamal reached for Beth as she approached the crowd. ‘Thanks for being here. I know it’s the last place you’d want to be.’
They hugged, then Beth stepped back and caught the eye of the others impacted by Katherine’s senseless actions. Jim, Dorrit, Simon, Annalise and more. Even one of the detectives who investigated the case was there. But everyone knew there was only one person Beth had come to see.
‘How are you?’ Beth asked as she reached her sister.
A habit whenever they were together now, Beth touched Janine’s arm to prove she was really there. Her brain needed the reassurance. Understandable, Beth’s therapist said, given that there was a point intime when Beth thought she had lost her sister. When she had flown down the stairs and pulled her broken body away from Katherine, screaming at the knife sticking out of Janine’s ribcage.
Metallic-scented blood had soaked into Beth’s clothes and hands as she tried to stem the worst of Janine’s bleeding, but it seemed it would never stop.
‘Don’t leave me,’ Beth had screamed, but Janine’s pale face suggested that she was already slipping away.
Beside her, Katherine lay unconscious. Beth remembered looking from her sister’s body to that of the woman responsible. Hatred swelled in her chest, more than any person could possibly contain.
Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when sleep had evaded Beth for too long, she could still remember the dark thoughts that came to her mind. Thoughts of unlodging the knife from Janine’s ribs and driving it into Katherine’s heart.