Sharon Bolton - Like This, for Ever

‘You weren’t carrying a bag.’

‘Abbie!’ The grandmother was calling from the top of the stairs. ‘Jorge isn’t in his room. He’s not with Harvey either. I think he’s gone out again.’

Abbie seemed to droop.

‘Abbie,’ said Dana. ‘How long have you known about Jorge?’

When Lacey fell, the reality for Barney finally hit home. Until that moment, he’d been half waiting for Jorge to burst out laughing, to cut him and Huck loose, to say, ‘Got you!’ and admit it had all been the biggest possible wind-up.

He’d bumped into Jorge after he’d fled Lacey’s flat and, in his misery, had confided his fears about his dad yet again. Jorge had been completely understanding, seeing exactly where he was coming from, but assuring him he was wrong. In urgent whispers that had been so convincing, he’d told Barney he had a feeling he knew who the killer was, that he didn’t want to say more now, but that it was someone they both knew and that it would be a massive shock for everyone. If Barney would come to the old house with him, he’d said, they could break in and get proof.

Half drunk on the knowledge that his father might be innocent after all, Barney had followed Jorge to the house, up the framework of the conservatory and then to the top floor of the house. He’d been scared, of course, close to petrified, but Jorge had given him courage somehow and when they’d heard Huck whimpering, Jorge had gone straight in. Barney had actually been having fantasies about the two of them being heroes when Jorge had jumped him. Even then, he hadn’t quite taken it in.

Not until he’d seen the look on Jorge’s face as he’d flown through the air and swung the huge hammer at Lacey’s head had he even begun to believe that his best mate’s older brother, the coolest guy he knew, was a killer.

Even when Lacey sat up, blinking, her eyes unable to focus on anything, Barney had a second of hope that it was the ‘Surprise!’ moment at a party, when suddenly all the mystery was laid open.

‘Who knows you’re here?’ Jorge was asking Lacey.

Tell him you’re the first , willed Barney. Tell him half the Metropolitan Police will be bursting their way through the door any second. Scare him. Panic him. Make him run.

‘No one,’ gasped Lacey, giving first Barney and then Huck a strange, intense stare. ‘I came on my own. I love what you did on Facebook, by the way. Peter Sweep, the Missing Boys. Really clever.’

What was she doing? Even Jorge wasn’t sure. His eyes narrowed, searching for sarcasm in the detective’s face. A movement to the left caught Barney’s eye and he glanced at Huck. The kid was no wimp, you had to give him that. He’d been bucking and pulling and wriggling since Barney had been thrown into the room. Now he was rubbing his face against the wood of the trestle table, trying to get the tape off his mouth.

‘You’re in a show, aren’t you?’ said Lacey. ‘I saw your photograph in the local paper. You’re actually playing Peter Pan in the West End. God, you even look like him.’

Peter Pan? Peter Sweep? What was she talking about? If Jorge was Peter Sweep that made sense, it explained how Peter knew so much about Barney. And yes, everyone knew he was playing Peter Pan in the show, but what had that—?

‘Come away with me to Neverland,’ sang Jorge, still crouched on the window ledge. ‘Lacey, gonna teach you to fly.’

‘The police haven’t a clue,’ said Lacey. ‘They’re still chasing round looking for a vampire.’

Jorge actually sniggered at that.

‘Did you really do it by yourself ?’ Lacey was saying now, like she was some kid meeting a pop star for the first time. ‘Five boys, and now these two. It’s incredible. They’ll be writing books about you.’

A look of scorn washed over Jorge’s face. He didn’t mean it, though. Barney had seen the flash of hunger on his face.

Lacey stopped and coughed. She looked as though she was about to be sick. Then she seemed to make a massive effort. ‘I know what I’m talking about,’ she said. ‘I’ve studied real-life serial killers for years. The ones who really catch the public imagination are the women and the young ones.’

And the ones who never get caught , thought Barney. Don’t tell him that.

Lacey’s face seemed to darken, and for a second her eyes lost focus. Then she took a deep breath. ‘You know what you should do now,’ she said, still speaking directly to Jorge. ‘Go to the nearest police station and tell them to organize a press conference. They’ll do it, if you say it’s about the case. And they’ll have heard of you. I mean, you’re practically a celebrity. Then you can announce to the whole world it was you. You could say you knew the police were never going to catch you and you just got bored with it.’

Barney watched Jorge’s face for a reaction. If Lacey could just persuade him to leave the building, she could get herself free and call for help. Even if Jorge took her phone, she could untie him and Huck. She wouldn’t let Jorge catch her off guard again. Huck’s duct-tape gag was almost off. He’d be able to yell soon.

‘What will they do to me?’ asked Jorge, surprising Barney. It was the question of a child. Lacey obviously thought so too. She was giving him a reassuring smile.

‘You’re too young to go to prison,’ she said. ‘They’ll probably send you to a special facility, just for a few years, just till you’re eighteen. Then they’ll give you a new identity, maybe send you somewhere really cool like Australia and you can sell your story. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make a film about you.’

Jorge was nodding and Barney felt a rush of hope. It was going to work. There were plenty of sharp edges in the room – once they were left alone, Lacey could free herself in minutes. But then Jorge stood, tensed his whole body and leaped forward. The rope carried him into the centre of the room and he let go, landing lightly beside Lacey.

‘Or I could kill these two, and then you, and make it look like you did it before killing yourself out of remorse.’ Jorge smiled, and suddenly looked nothing like a child. ‘I wouldn’t even have the bother of getting rid of the bodies then. I know what I’m talking about, I’ve studied real-life serial killers for years.’

Barney closed his eyes, and gave up.

‘I don’t know anything,’ said Abbie. ‘Sylvia, have you any idea what time he went out?’

‘We always wonder, when there’s a killer amongst us,’ said Dana. ‘We ask ourselves, have I seen him, spoken to him, do I know him? I’ve been on the news saying “Someone knows him” over and over again. I wanted everyone in London to ask themselves that question.’

Abbie Soar hadn’t moved from her spot at the foot of the stairs.

‘But you had more reason than most, didn’t you?’ said Dana, trying to recall the conversation she and Susan Richmond had had on the way over. ‘After what you and Jorge went through when he was young. What happens to us in the first three years of life has a massive impact upon who we are as people.’

Huge pale-blue eyes couldn’t quite meet Dana’s. ‘I thought Jorge was dead too, that day,’ Abbie said. ‘When I pulled him out of the backpack, he was covered in his father’s blood.’

‘He doesn’t remember it,’ said his grandmother. ‘He was only a baby. We’ve never talked about it.’

‘What happened to you and your family was on the news all over the world,’ said Dana, ignoring the older woman. ‘There’s a huge amount of coverage on the internet even now. We found it in seconds. Have you never wondered if Jorge has done the same thing? He might even have convinced himself that he remembers it all.’