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She gazes around the room, disorientated. “We’re in the hospital?”
Mum rubs her hand down her back. “You are. Do you remember what happened?”
My mum glances at Allie, and whatever she sees on her face… it fills her eyes with tears. “I remember everything.”
“Everything will be okay, Allie. Your dad is on his way, and Willow, Cole, and the rest of them are in the waiting room. You aren’t alone.”
Allie nods and mum helps her lie back down. I wrap my good arm around her, pulling her against me and gritting through the pain. “I’m here; I’ve got you,” I tell her. She nods absently, resting her head on my shoulder.
I stare at the men in the room. “Can we help you?”
“We’ve just come to inform you no charges will be pressed against you, Mr. Everhert,” he tells me gently, talking to me like I’m ten years old. I sag against the bed in relief. I don’t regret killing him, but the thought of going to prison scared me.
I’m too fucking pretty.
“Do you know how he got away with this for so long? Allie told me about the state of his house and the condition his nan was in. His past was muddled with files after files—they were there for you to access. Why didn’t you know it was him?”
If I’m remembering correctly, the man talking in front of me is Grady.
Guilt flashes across his face. “Name changing. There were so many surnames used it got lost in transaction. Alex changed his name—illegally—to Alex Cliff, his nan’s maiden name. He was born Adam Forest, his mum was born Lane, and his uncle—or dad—was born Pearson. All of them changed their names more than once over the course of their lives.”
“But how did no one pick up that he was a murderer, that he was messed up? After his mum killed his dad—I mean, step-dad—they should have made a case for him. He should have been seen.”
“He was,” Grady reveals, taking me aback.
“What?”
He briefly looks to Allie, who is still in my arms. I glance down at her, worried for her mental health. She still seems in shock—out of it.
“Are you sure you want me to discuss this now?”
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to clench my hands into fists. “I think we have the right to know. He nearly killed us. He killed innocent girls. I think we deserve to know why nothing was done to prevent this, why he was left in the hands of someone incapable of caring for him.”
“Now we know his real name, we’ve looked into it. His first diagnosis was when he was six. They diagnosed him with BPD—borderline personality disorder. It’s a long-term pattern of abnormal behaviour, which was picked up and reported by the school he attended. He was never treated for it. In their reports, they stated Adam—I mean, Alex—couldn’t, or wouldn’t, form relationships with anyone in the school. The doctor who diagnosed him never followed up, but we’re still questioning the parties involved.”
“That’s it?” I ask dryly, clearing my sore throat.
“No.” He sighs, reluctant to answer. “When he was ten, after his parent’s death, he was referred to a child psychologist by his social worker. That doctor also diagnosed him with BPD and noted he had sociopathic tendencies. We’ve yet to speak with her, but from her notes left in the social worker’s case, he had crescent moon-shaped scars on his palms, was caught stabbing himself in the leg—whilst smiling—and had zero social skills. At ten years old he had already mastered the ability to manipulate those around him. He was removed from three children’s home before they found his nan. There were incidents where other children were hurt, and his behaviour came up as odd and unusual.”
“And none of them kept an eye on him after he went to live with his nan?” Allie asks. I hold her a little tighter, not realising she had been listening.
“He was twelve by the time he got put into the custody of Jessica Cliff. We had her down as a Jessica Lane. They both changed their names and disappeared altogether.”
My mum clears her throat. “If he had stayed, received the medical care he needed, would this have turned out differently, wouldhehave?”
Grady turns to my mum, shaking his head. “Professionally speaking, I can’t say. It’s hard to tell with cases like this. But in my personal opinion, I’d say no. I don’t think anything would have changed when it came to him. He was diagnosed with BPD at a young age, that and the childhood trauma he was subjected to, the beliefs he had drilled into him… it was always going to be there for him. Sooner or later, he would have snapped.”
“So why now? What made him snap now?” Allie asks.
Grady turns to me. “I think you. We found a diary in the house dating from last Halloween. Alex had mentioned Christie, the humiliation she inflicted on him that night and how he felt you mocked him. And from photos I saw in the house, I think Allie reminded him of his mother. That combined, I think he felt something was being taken away from him.”
“She drugged him on Halloween, and Christie and her friends made fun of him. Is that why he killed her?” Allie says quietly.
“A lot of anger was written in that section, Allie. We still aren’t sure why that night snapped something inside of him, but if I have to guess, from what I already know, I would say he felt vulnerable and bullied. He’s not used to feeling emotion, and it brought out anger. We do know from an earlier entry that he found out who CJ was to him. He mentions overhearing you two talking about it.”
“He knew who I was all along, then?”
Grady nods. “Yes.”
