Page 43 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

And then he’s flying through the LA night.

He doesn’t even scream.

There’s actually not a sound at all. Until the crunch.

We look over the edge.

Carey has landed in the ornamental shrubbery outside the entrance of the hotel. One of his legs is bent backwards and his head looks like it’s just sort of exploded.

‘Oops,’ says Antoinette.

Someone already has their phone out, filming Carey’s splattered body. There’s a shriek and the doorman who waved us through hurries over to where Carey has landed. He looks up just as we duck back from the edge.

We’ve already left by the time the police arrive.

24

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

Later, back at the villa, Antoinette and I are toasting our night’s work with a cup of hibiscus and rose tea.

‘And that’s how it’s done,’ I’m explaining to her. ‘A simple accident.’

‘Poor Carey,’ she says, sticking her bottom lip out, and we both laugh.

‘Just a silly, drunk reveller. And the best part is there’s no mess to clean up or body to dispose of. The City of West Hollywood will literally do that for us.’

She’s nodding, excited. ‘That was great,’ she says. ‘He really was a piece of shit, wasn’t he?’

‘Absolutely,’ I say. ‘But he didn’t know he was going to run into the Collins sisters.’

‘The Collins sisters,’ Antoinette parrots. ‘Sounds good, doesn’t it?’

‘It really does. Cheers to us.’ We clink our mugs together, grinning at each other.

Maybe this will work after all.

Maybe she is trainable and won’t get us caught.

I have to admit, it was fun doing this with someone else. Someone with the same values.

Serial killing can be a lonely vocation.

‘So who’s next?’ Antoinette asks. ‘We could try to find the guy that whistled at us at the airport. Or the guy who tried to grab my—’

‘Antoinette,’ I cut her off. ‘We can’t go after every single man for the slightest little thing. We haven’t got enough time, for one thing.’

She scowls at me. ‘But Kitty. It’s the everyday sexism, the slightest little things, that lead to the big things. Everyday sexism is a gateway drug. It’s the literal foundations of the patriarchy.’

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying we have to pick our battles. And I’ve picked our battle. It’s Aidan Ward. I don’t want to get distracted.’

She nods. ‘And the WeHo Ripper,’ she says.

‘Once we’re certain he actually exists outside the minds of overimaginative Redditors.’

‘He does. My killer intuition is telling me that there’s someone else out there.’

‘Your killer intuition?’