Alex Barclay - Killing Ways

No, I’m not.

You are! All you do is ruin love. You wouldn’t ruin something so beautiful if you truly knew what it was?

I... don’t understand it myself. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Ren slumped onto an empty bench, buried her head in her hands. Tears poured down her face.

I can’t go any further. I can’t move. Oh God. I can’t breathe. Please no one see me. Security’s going to come. What will I say? I’ve lost my mind. I’ll be sedated and carried away and... breathe. Breathe.

I am louder than your kindest thought.

Get. Help.

She sat on the bench, breathed, thought of nice things, breathed, controlled it.

Just get to the Jeep. Get that far.

She sat into the Jeep and started the engine.

Regular things, aftermath, regular things.

She drove.

I’m going home to no real home.

Pack a bag, go to Janine’s. You’re going to Janine’s.

She felt relief at this one small certainty.

Minutes from the apartment, the phone rang.

Gary. Don’t get into it. He has problems of his own.

She picked up. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m home, I checked myself out. I’m good. Ren, where are you exactly? We need to talk. Could you stop by the house?’

But Ren had trailed off. She was looking ahead. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘I gotta go, Gary. There’s... it’s, it’s... it’s my brother! Outside my apartment!’

She ended the call. She parked the car, jumped up, ran to Matt, threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God.’

Tears were spilling down his face. He couldn’t speak. He was just holding her as she cried.

‘How did you know what happened?’ she said. ‘I mean... how did you get here so soon?’

Oh, God. What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with his face?

‘What is it?’ said Ren. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, Ren... Wait ’til we get inside—’

‘No!’ said Ren, ‘No! What is it? Is it mom? Dad? Ethan?’

‘I don’t know how to tell you this...’

‘What is it?’ said Ren.

Matt gripped her arms, looked her in the eyes. ‘Gary called me a few days ago. He... was worried you weren’t taking your meds. He said you kept denying it. He was... at a loss what to do.’

‘He called you?’ said Ren. ‘A few days ago? Oh my God.’ Was I that bad? ‘Showing signs of mania’. But why are we talking about this?

‘Not just me,’ said Matt. ‘He called Ben too. He flew in yesterday afternoon — my flight was delayed. We were supposed to meet Gary and you and Janine and Robbie in the office.’

Oh, no. Oh, no. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. ‘So... was... was that meeting yesterday... that was supposed to be an intervention?’ Ren put her hand to her mouth then took it away to let the words tumble out. ‘What the fuck? Oh no. Oh my God.’ She paused. ‘Hold on... where’s Ben? If he flew in yesterday? I’ve been trying to get hold of him all night.’

Matt, wonderful, sensitive, kind Matt, managed to answer, despite his quivering mouth, and the tears now pouring down his face. ‘I’m so sorry, Ren. I’m so sorry... he was in Safe Streets when Duke Rawlins arrived.’

‘What? Ben?’

‘He arrived early... he... he... was shot instantly. He died, Ren. I’m so sorry.’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Someone would have heard. I went in that way. I saw—’

‘Rawlins used a silencer—’

‘No!’ said Ren. ‘I was in that lobby. There was no one there apart from that poor realtor, Valerie. Just Valerie’s body... on the floor... no one else. I swear to God—’

‘He’s gone, Ren,’ said Matt. ‘Ben’s gone, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.’

‘But...’ He can’t be! She stared at Matt. Her heart plunged. Oh no — the basement... the basement door was banging. Oh my God. Is that where he put him? Threw him down into the basement? That’s what he did with him?

She studied Matt’s face.

‘He died instantly,’ said Matt. ‘It was a single gunshot. He didn’t suffer.’

Ren pressed her hands to her mouth, her voice muffled as she cried. ‘No... no... no.’ Tears poured down her face, spilling over her hands. ‘No.’

Not Ben. Not my gorgeous Ben who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

This is not my life. This is not my life. This is not my life.

‘No,’ she said, collapsing into Matt’s arms. ‘No. No. No. No.’

This is all my fault.

This is all my fault.

Thank you to my agent, Marianne Gunn O’Connor, who brings light wherever she goes. Thanks also to Vicki Satlow, and to Pat Lynch.

To Sarah Hodgson, my talented editor and novel enhancement specialist, thank you so much for all your thorough and thoughtful work.

Many thanks to Kate Elton and the entire team at HarperCollins.

To Charlie Redmayne, thank you for your dedication to authors and the stories they have to tell.

Big thanks and congratulations to Kate Stephenson.

Thank you, Lucy Dauman, for your organisational talents.

Thank you to supreme copy-editor, Anne O’Brien.

Thank you to Tony Purdue for making things happen.

To Darley Anderson, special thanks for your support, wisdom, and friendship.

To SA Phil Niedringhaus, I always appreciate your swift, enlightening responses, and entertaining one-liners. Thank you, again.

To Cheryl Moore, Investigator with the Jefferson County District Attorney’s Office, thank you once more for being so generous with your time and knowledge.

To Ger McDonnell, thank you for your kickstarting serial killer counsel.

Thank you to Anam Cara’s Sue Booth-Forbes, who, with heart, dedication and energy, powers limitless creative dreams.

To my lawful sister Lanes of the extraordinary brain, thank you so much for always being there to listen, read, support, and crack me up.

Thank you, Ian Fahey — I couldn’t have done it without you, buuuhd. Thank you, also, for playing House of Cards; “I love this game! ”

To Dick Tobin, thank you for your considered reading, and plot inspiration.

To Donagh Wiseman, thank you for coming to my rescue and making this book Airborne.

To Aaron Byrne at The Web CTB, thank you for your speedy proofs processing.

Thank you and huge love to my family.

To my friends, thank you for being the best in the world.

And the award for Best Supporting Role in a Crime Drama goes to Paul Kelly.