Page 107 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

No closer at all.

We’ve got nothing.

No leads.

No location.

Nothing.

We don’t even know where to start.

My chest feels like someone is sitting on it. I can’t breathe.

‘We’re never going to find her in time,’ I whisper. ‘She could literally be anywhere.’

‘Give me her iPad,’ Charlie says. ‘I’m not claiming to be an expert or anything but I could have a go at locating the IP addresses. My brother knows about stuff like that. I can ask him.’

‘Charlie, you are my fucking hero,’ I say and look around but I can’t see Antoinette’s iPad anywhere. ‘Fuck. Travis didn’t give it back.’ I sink down onto the floor and drop my head into my hands. ‘I’m such a fucking idiot. My sister is going to die and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.’

‘There is one thing,’ Agnes says.

She’s right.

It’s time.

I pick up my phone and press ‘nine’.

Then ‘one’.

I’m about to press ‘one’ again when Lauren comes bursting through the door. Her face is flushed and her hair a mess. She looks like she’s been running.

And crying.

But it’s not her ungroomed appearance, so different to how I’m used to seeing her, that makes me drop my phone.

It’s what she’s holding out to me.

A blush-pink silk scarf.

With a savage smear of dark red on it.

Antoinette’s scarf.

Antoinette’s blood.

‘I found it,’ she gasps, ‘in Cort’s car.’

59

Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

‘It’s Antoinette’s, isn’t it?’ Lauren is saying but I can barely hear her over the blood that is suddenly roaring in my ears. ‘I recognised it as soon as I saw it.’ She holds the scarf out to me. The delicate pink one I bought for her on our first day here. Lauren’s hands are trembling as I take it from her and hold it to my face. It smells like my sister, like the cloyingly rich perfume she wears, like that indescribable scent that is just her.

Oh, Antoinette.

Tears sting at my eyes.

The room blurs.