Page 111 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

Just then my phone starts to ring.

I grab for it.

It’s Charlie.

‘Is he there?’ I ask, frantic. ‘Did you find Antoinette?’

Charlie’s voice sounds a million miles away as he says, ‘I’m sorry, Kits. There’s no one here.’ Agnes says something in the background. ‘We’re going to try to find a way in,’ he continues. ‘Agnes thinks she can get in through one of the windows.’

‘Okay,’ I say as I sag with disappointment. ‘Keep me in the loop. I love you.’

‘I love you.’

The call ends and I turn to Lauren. ‘He’s not at his place. Can you call him?’

Her brow furrows. ‘He won’t answer,’ she says. ‘He raced off in a fury when I asked him about the scarf.’

‘Please try.’

She takes out her phone and calls Cort, putting it on speaker. It rings and rings and rings.

‘Lauren,’ I plead with her. ‘If he’s not at home, where will he be?’ She shrugs sadly, the look on her face pained. ‘Please think,’ and I’m almost begging. ‘If there’s anywhere you think Cort could have taken Antoinette, I really need to know.’

Lauren’s blue eyes fill up with tears and she makes no effort to wipe them away when they spill and begin running down her cheeks.

‘I … I don’t know. I don’t know.’

I grab her hands. ‘Please! Think! Lauren, this is important.’

‘Wait,’ she says, her expression changing from distress to horror and her eyes locking onto mine with sudden, terrible clarity. The colour drains from her face. ‘I think I know where he might be.’

60

Kitty’s hire car, some road out of Los Angeles, California

We head east out of LA. I’m driving faster than I should be but I don’t care about being pulled over right now. All I can think about is that I hope we’re not too late.

As we drive, I notice the landscape changing. The built-up-ness of LA gives way to industrial estates, storage warehouses and sprawling residential developments. I see mountains appear on the horizon.

‘How far is it?’ I ask Lauren.

‘Not far,’ she says but I don’t really know what that means. This is America after all and don’t they happily drive like two hundred miles for a burger? I get stressed out if I have to go south of the Thames. So I keep driving until the mountains are no longer on the horizon, instead they’re looming on either side. There are no palm trees anymore, just low, prickly-looking shrubs and the occasional cactus. We’re in the desert now.

I hope we’re not lost.

‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ I ask Lauren.

‘I’m sure,’ she says. ‘Cort used to bring me out here when we first started dating. We used to come here to be alone.’ She presses her lips together like she’s trying to stop herself from crying.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask her.

‘I just feel so stupid,’ she says. ‘If you’re right and I’ve been dating a murderer. What does that say about me?’

‘Nothing!’ I say. ‘Lauren, if we’re right about Cort, it doesn’t say a single thing about you. It’s on him. He’s the one who chose to do these awful things. He fooled a lot of people. Everyone who listens to his podcasts and talks. All his social media followers. You’re far from stupid, Lauren.’

She keeps staring straight ahead. ‘But how could I not know? That’s what everyone will be saying, isn’t it? How could the girlfriend not know? Oh God, there will be Netflix shows about me!’ She turns to face me now, her eyes wide with panic. ‘And not in the good way.’

‘Lauren, please don’t think about that now. Please. We need to find Cort and hope he hasn’t hurt Antoinette yet.’ My mind flicks to the scrap of fabric, the smear of blood on it, and my stomach lurches. I open the window and take some deep breaths of sticky, warm desert air.