Page 129 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

We loaded up the SUV first thing this morning and arrived in Newport Beach just over an hour later. Agnes’s parents were delighted to see us and only too happy for us to take their cruiser out for a spin.

‘They’re boat people,’ Agnes warned us before we arrived. And she wasn’t kidding. Her mum, who looks exactly like Agnes but with silver-blonde hair instead of golden, greeted us wearing a T-shirt saying ‘nauti but nice’. Charlie, king of dad jokes, appreciated the pun. ‘They made me get a boating licence when I was like sixteen. I could steer a boat before I could drive a car.’

I love yachts and as soon as I saw the sleek white vessel glistening like a crystal in the harbour, I knew that today would be a great day. The wind is splashing saltwater on our skin and we can see the faint silhouette of Catalina Island in the distance. I’m really into this body-disposal-but-make-it-luxe vibe we’ve got going on here. Maybe I should get a yacht. It’s a lot more pleasing than feeding hacked-up lumps of flesh through a mincer.

Suddenly the engine cuts and the only sound is the slap of waves against the hull of the boat.

‘This is it,’ Agnes calls from the flybridge. ‘The deepest part of the channel.’

I stand up, the wind whips my hair around my face and I can taste sea salt on my lips. The Pacific Ocean stretches out around us and I suddenly feel very small, like how you sometimes feel when you look up at the huge expanse of night sky and realise how tiny and unimportant you really are in the universe. I look over the side of the deck and have to catch my breath. The water is so deep here that it looks black, bottomless. I can’t even imagine what lies beneath the surface, what secrets those depths hold. And I’d really rather not know. I love the ocean, but I mean the blue, shimmery surface of it. What goes on down there is none of my business.

‘You ready?’ Agnes skips down from the flybridge with a smile on her face, like we’re about to go for a refreshing little paddle rather than dump two dead bodies into the water.

I nod and Charlie takes my hand as we walk carefully around to the saloon where the cases are waiting for us. We put a kettlebell in each case along with the body parts, just to make sure they reach their ocean-bed destination.

‘The water is about seven thousand feet deep here,’ Agnes tells us as I continue to peer into the depths. Seven thousand feet of cold, black water. Deep enough to swallow anything and keep it in its bowels forever. I grip the railing so tightly my knuckles go white. You would not want to go overboard here.

‘Let’s do this thing,’ Antoinette says and she heaves one of the cases into her arms before letting it slide from her grip and into the water. It hits the surface with a splash before sinking deep down into the infinite blackness. ‘Rest in pieces, Ron.’

My turn.

I pick up one of the cases containing some of the remains of Aidan Ward and drag it to the side of the boat. It’s heavy but I’m strong enough to haul it over the railing and let it drop into the water. I watch as it sinks and feel relief wash all over me.

It’s done.

He’s gone.

Tor can feel safe now. She can stop hiding away. Stop being terrified that he’ll come back and finish her off.

She’s free.

And it’s this feeling, the feeling that – because of me – a woman can feel that little bit safer when she’s walking alone at night, that makes it all worthwhile.

We all work together to dump the rest of the cases overboard, sending the rest of Ron to his watery grave.

I glance at Lauren to see how she’s holding up.

I know this can’t be easy for her.

Ron Wilde and Aidan Ward are getting a more dignified final send-off than Cort did.

‘I’m going to take a moment,’ she says, catching me looking at her. ‘I just need to clear my head.’

‘Of course,’ Agnes says and she gives Lauren a reassuring rub on the arm. ‘I’m so proud of you, bestie. I know how hard this has been for you.’

Lauren gives her a sad smile before pulling a kaftan over her bikini and walking around to the other side of the boat.

‘I hope she’s gonna be okay,’ Agnes says quietly as she watches Lauren leave.

‘She will,’ I say. ‘It will take time and she’ll need to do the work. But she’ll heal.’

Antoinette is looking visibly uncomfortable with all the attention we’re giving to Lauren. ‘Let’s try to enjoy the rest of the afternoon,’ she says. ‘Kitty and Charlie are leaving tomorrow.’ She looks up at the sun, which seems even brighter out here in the middle of the ocean, a never-ending golden hour. ‘Let’s get some vit D. God only knows what the weather is like back in London.’

Charlie and I head up to the top deck and I watch as he stretches out on a lounger. God, he looks good. Agnes and Antoinette are nowhere to be seen, so much for spending some time with us. Oh well. I take the opportunity to kiss Charlie, long and deep.

‘Hello, you,’ he says. ‘That was nice.’

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ I breathe him in. ‘You smell good.’