Page 23 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

Charlie.

I miss you too.

He misses me too.

He misses me too!

I frantically start typing out a text to him.

Shouldn’t be over here too long. Maybe we could have drinks or something when I’m back.

I press send.

He misses me!

Surely that’s a good sign? Surely that means he’s open to at least talking to me about what happened.

I wait for the message to deliver. But it doesn’t. It must be the signal here. I try to send it again but it still doesn’t go through. Then I try to send it as an SMS. That doesn’t deliver either. I stare at my phone in disbelief. This can’t be happening.

He’s blocked me.

I can’t believe he’s blocked me.

I quickly open WhatsApp and scroll to the last conversation I had with him on there. Sure enough, his profile picture has disappeared, replaced with that anonymous grey silhouette, absolute proof that I’ve been blocked.

He really doesn’t want me to contact him.

I’m about to cry when I remember that we’ve got location sharing switched on in the Cloud. I quickly open the app, expecting him to have removed that as well. But it’s still there.

Charlie’s iPhone.

He’s obviously forgotten to turn it off.

I click on the little phone icon and watch as the map zooms in on London, pinpointing exactly where my ex-boyfriend is right now.

Lewisham.

What’s he doing in Lewisham?

Charlie lives in Clapham and works in Brixton. Why would he be in Lewisham?

Then I remember something; Charlie might not live in Lewisham but Jenna does. Jenna is the annoyingly earnest and blonde do-gooder who works for Charlie’s charity. She’s not made any secret of the fact that she’s got a huge crush on him. She’s also the woman I accused Charlie of cheating on me with when he vanished in Cannes in the summer. When he was actually kidnapped and being drugged in an Airbnb by Antoinette’s psychotic brother. Yeah, my bad. He was furious that I thought he was being unfaithful. Even crosser about that than about me being a serial killer. But it looks like he’s with Jenna now. I’m sure she’s only too willing to let him cry on her shoulder about our break-up. I’ve probably pushed him right into her arms.

The tears really do come now.

They come so hard that I wonder if they’re ever going to stop.

14

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

Eventually I wipe my cheeks, pick my phone back up and am about to head inside when I hear a shriek coming from the direction of the guesthouse. I jump up, grab my kaftan and pull it over my head as I quickly head in the direction of the scream.

The door is slightly ajar when I reach the little house, probably where Antoinette slipped in earlier. I push it wide open and walk into a large living area that is more tastefully decorated than the main house. The flooring is an expensive type of stone, which I wasn’t expecting. There’s a very luxe-looking, huge corner sofa facing a wall, which is mostly taken up by a giant screen, cinema-sized. Could it be some kind of screening room that I somehow missed in the ad? There’s a dining area with a massive glass table, which looks set for some kind of dinner party. I’m confused.

‘Antoinette?’ I shout. ‘Are you in here?’

But it’s not Antoinette who answers me. Instead a small, white fluffy dog comes hurtling into the room, its lips pulled back to reveal a very unimpressive set of little teeth. It snarls and growls at me before breaking into a staccato yapping, which makes my soul want to crawl out of my body.