Page 134 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

And then I hear it.

The crash of something hitting the water.

Something that sounds like a body.

Antoinette and I run to the railings and stare over into the black water.

There’s no sign of Lauren.

But Agnes is standing there, her eyes full of flame and fury.

71

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

It’s almost dark by the time we get back to the villa. Four out of the five of us who left this morning.

Charlie, when he woke up, radioed the Coastguard about twenty minutes after we watched Lauren disappear into the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

She didn’t really stand a chance out there.

‘It’s really cold in there,’ Agnes had said, her voice like ice. ‘Even in summer. Sharks too.’

We let the boat drift a bit before we threw in the life ring.

The Coastguard sent out a helicopter and a couple of boats with spotters, but they didn’t find anything.

We had to answer some questions and Agnes took charge. She explained that we’d lost two people. Lauren – and her boyfriend Cort – who’d dived in after her because she couldn’t swim.

Genius really.

Now we don’t have to worry about explaining Cort’s mysterious disappearance.

It was a silent road trip home.

I think we’re all in a bit of shock.

We’re sitting around the kitchen table now. Charlie has poured everyone brandy, but my stomach is still rolling from everything that’d happened and mine sits untouched.

Finally, Antoinette says the words none of us has so far dared to. Once words are out in the world, they can rarely be taken back.

She turns to Agnes, a tiny furrow between her brows, and says, ‘You pushed her.’ It’s not accusatory. It’s just stating a fact.

Agnes nods, once. ‘She was going to kill me,’ she says, again just voicing a fact. Then she looks up at my sister. ‘She was going to kill all of us.’

They look at each other for a long minute, having some sort of conversation without actual words. I can’t tell what Antoinette is thinking. I know that she believed Agnes was kind and good. I don’t know what her being a killer means for them.

‘You saved us,’ Antoinette says eventually.

Agnes looks down at her hands and lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘Then we’re even,’ she says. Then she looks up. First at Antoinette. And then at me. ‘For Richard Stone.’

Ah.

So she worked that out.

I suppose it wasn’t too hard to join the dots.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask Agnes. ‘She was your best friend.’