Tell the Truth

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘I just thought he might answer, if he’s harmless,’ I said, my voice low and jittery.

  ‘Pass me that,’ Zoe whispered, pointing to a broom propped against the wall.

  Struggling to rise, I stepped towards it. ‘What for?’

  She glared. ‘Just get it.’

  I took a deep breath and reached for the broom, passing it over to her. She yanked off the brush head, and tiptoed towards the door.

  ‘Be careful.’ My heart thudded in my chest, but I somehow found the strength to trail behind her, as she made her way across the room and out through the door. The man, who was now making his way down the corridor, didn’t have time to react. The sound of the thuds of the broom hitting his head twice, his cries of pain, made my stomach heave. As he slumped to the floor face down, I let out a scream. ‘Oh God, Zoe,’ I cried. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  I went to kneel down, hoping to take his pulse, but Zoe grabbed my shaking hand, and pulled me back along the corridor and into the poolroom, still gripping the broom handle, now covered in blood. This was too much. We needed to leave. Now!

  ‘Zoe,’ I said, my voice trembling. ‘Who do you think he was – is?’

  She shrugged, a sudden coldness about her. As though knocking the man out had left her numb. ‘No idea.’

  ‘What if he wasn’t after us? What if he was just an employee or something?’ A lump lodged in my throat, as I dashed away tears. Everything was spiralling out of control. ‘We should get out of here. Call the police. An ambulance.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d like one more swim before we go.’ She slipped off her robe, and threw it on a chair.

  ‘What? Don’t be daft, Zo. What if that bloke wakes up? We need to get out of here. Call someone. I mean what if he’s dead?’

  ‘Dead?’ She turned, her eyes stabbing into me.

  And that’s when I saw her necklace. I hadn’t noticed it before. ‘Where did you get that?’ I said. It was just like my mum’s locket, the locket that held a photo of me when I was a baby – the locket Mum had said was stolen.

  ‘What, this ol’ thing?’ she said, looking down at it – flicking it open then closed. ‘I can’t recall exactly.’

  I was going off on a tangent. We needed to leave. I grabbed my bag.

  ‘I did so much for you,’ she said, as I slung my bag over my shoulder, her eyes meeting mine once more. She sounded different, serious, Irish, but not in the satirical way she had when she’d called me in Ireland. She turned sharply and rummaged in her rucksack.

  ‘Yes, you’ve always been there for me, Zoe,’ I said, feeling even more uneasy, ‘and I’m grateful for that.’

  ‘But you left me.’

  ‘What? Don’t be silly, I never left you – I’m here, aren’t I?’ My words were coming out fast again, and I felt breathless.

  ‘You went off with Laura, and didn’t care what happened to me, neither of you did.’

  ‘My mother?’

  She laughed ironically. ‘If you like.’

  ‘We should go home, Zoe. Now.’

  She stepped forward, so close to my face that there was barely any air between us. ‘I want you to stay,’ she said.

  ‘But we must go,’ I said, heading away, but she was quicker, stronger, taller than me, and I felt the cold steel of a blade against my neck, before I’d reached the door.

  Chapter 48

  Zoe dragged me towards the water, and lowered me to the floor. A tear I hadn’t known was there, rolled down my cheek, and dripped off my chin.

  ‘Please let me go,’ I whimpered, my body drained of strength. ‘I thought we were friends.’

  ‘We’re not friends, Caitlin.’

  Caitlin?

  ‘I’m Bridie O’Brian, and you’re my little sister.’

  I tried to take in her words, as she ran the flat side of the knife across my neck.

  ‘Rachel died, you see,’ she went on. ‘And Laura took you from me, pretended you were her daughter.’

  ‘No, that can’t be right. You’re mistaken. Please.’ My body trembled. My heart thumped. ‘I’m Laura’s daughter. I’m Rachel.’

  ‘No!’ she yelled, gripping my hair and dragging my head backwards. ‘You’re Caitlin O’Brian, and it’s your fault I’ve always been so alone – fostered, and later dumped in a children’s home, then a psychiatric hospital. It’s your fault for going with Laura – for leaving me.’

  She let go of my hair and moved, and I let out a yelp like a wounded pup, as she pushed the sharp blade into my neck – a surge of pain telling me she’d drawn blood.

  ‘They freed me eighteen months ago, and I went to Ireland – to Lough End Farm. Of course it’s called Evermore Farmhouse now.

  ‘There it was all so vivid. Memories of how Laura lied to the Guards. The way you snuggled into her, abandoning me. I thought I might finally come to terms with it. My stepfather seemed pleased to see me. The daughter he’d never searched for. He never searched for you either, Caitlin, but then why would he? He thought you were dead, and I wasn’t about to tell him different. I certainly didn’t want to share him with you.’

  ‘You know who my father is?’

  ‘Mmm, Tierney O’Brian – although you know him by his pen name, Felix Clarke.’

  ‘Felix Clarke is my father?’ Fear and confusion swirled inside me, turning my body to liquid.

  She laughed. ‘When I told Tierney about my past, in an attempt to free myself of it, he wanted rid of me. I was bad news. A famous writer with a killer daughter.’ She grabbed my hair and pulled my head backwards.

  ‘Stop! Please,’ I cried out.

  She released my hair. ‘He told me I was just like my ma. That she’d tried to kill him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, that’s what he said.’ She fidgeted, restless.

  I’m going to die.

  ‘He needed to be punished.’ There was a long pause. The only sound her rasping breath in my ear, and the spa bubbling like a kettle that would never boil. ‘So I pushed a pillow over his face when he was sleeping,’ she went on. ‘I wanted to snatch every ounce of life from him, because he let me down like everyone else. But he woke, fought me off, grabbed my throat, and I thought he was going to squeeze the life out of me. In some ways I hoped he would. But Dillon appeared. Told him to think of his writing career – the life he has now. I like Dillon.

  ‘Tierney gave me money to feck off out of his life. He would top it up regularly, if I never returned, or shared my story with the press. So I came to London, searching for you and Laura.’

  Suddenly the door crashed open. Zoe turned, bringing me with her, the knife still at my neck, and I saw the man from the corridor staggering into the poolroom, holding his head, blood on his fingers.

  ‘Christ! Dillon!’ Zoe cried. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’

  ‘You could have cracked open my skull, Bridie,’ he said, continuing to stumble towards us. ‘You’re fecking crazy at times.’

  Through a haze of panic and confusion I watched him continue towards us, his dark green eyes on me. It was the same man who’d chased me through the wood in Ireland, and fear slammed into me. Had they been in it together all this time? Hating me for leaving? Tormenting me with friend requests and hoax calls? I thought it wasn’t possible to be more frightened than I already was, but I was wrong.

  Zoe’s face closed in on me, her breath hot on my ear. ‘This is our brother, Caitlin. Our lovely brother.’

  Dillon began to sway, toppling and dropping onto a nearby plastic chair. ‘You could have killed me,’ he said, his Irish accent strong. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘I told you, I had no idea it was you. It’s your own fault, turning up without telling me, creeping around like some bloody phantom, scaring the bejesus out of me.’ She laughed. ‘But it’s so good to see you, Dillon.’

  ‘So, what will you be doing with that knife?’ His speech was slurred, and he continued to hold his head with bloodied hands.

  ‘I’m going to kil
l Caitlin,’ she said, like she was talking about the weather. ‘That’s what I’m doing with this knife, silly.’

  Another feeling of helplessness filled my senses. Nobody was going to save me. Nobody was going to appear and stop Zoe from killing me. ‘She left us, Dillon. She didn’t care about us. She has to die.’

  I darted Dillon a look. His eyelids were growing heavy. ‘I ran away too, Bridie,’ he said, his words barely audible.

  ‘You were scared, like me,’ Zoe said, as his eyelids dropped closed.

  Zoe kicked me hard. ‘It’s time for a swim, Caitlin. Get up.’

  I rose, knowing my only hope was to keep her talking. ‘So you left Ireland searching for me …’

  ‘Yes.’ A pause, and I could almost hear her mind ticking over. I felt sure she wouldn’t be able to resist telling me everything. ‘But then I met Hank. We bought a nice little modern terraced house in Hatfield, and I thought things were going to be OK. That my life had finally made a U-turn.’ She moved the blade away from my neck, and my body for a second relaxed. ‘We were so in love. And then he tried to help you – arranged to meet you.’

  And then it hit me, Henry Derby. Hank was short for Henry. ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘I killed them all, Caitlin.’ The knife’s point was back, pressing against my larynx. I almost choked, and cried out as I felt another nick in my flesh. ‘And now I’m going to kill you.’

  ‘But if I’m your sister …’ I cried, desperate. But I knew before she answered, it made no difference.

  ‘Not a very good one though, are you? I protected you from Rachel, and our crap ma, but you let me down. Everyone let me down.’ She sighed. ‘It was a shame about Hank. He was useless by the end. Pathetic. I hadn’t realised he was an addict when I met him. I suppose if things had stayed OK, I may never have come looking for you. But he had his uses. If I fed his addiction with Tierney’s money, he did jobs for me in return.’

  ‘He rang the TV studio?’

  ‘Ten out of ten, Caitlin – go to the top of the class. He rang to tell you your mother had died too – the first time.’ She laughed. ‘But then he let me down, you see. Arranged to meet you at the Emirates Stadium. He couldn’t live with himself. Wanted to let you know what was going on. I hadn’t planned to kill him, but I had no choice. An overdose finished him off, poor love. Pop went the weasel. He was the only death I got no pleasure from.’

  I racked my mind for something else to say, something that would keep her talking. Something to give me time – I don’t want to die. ‘So how did you find me?’

  ‘Questions, questions, questions,’ she said, but she still couldn’t resist telling me. ‘I found Laura from articles online about nine months ago. They pointed me towards Dunwich, and an old woman told me she was in care. I went to see her a few times. Stole her locket.

  ‘She was proud of you, Caitlin. Quite happy to rattle on about you, which could be a bit tedious, truth be told. She even told me where you lived. I watched you for a while. Joined your yoga group. Befriended you. Simple.’ A smile. ‘I even told her you and Lawrence had split up. She was sad about that.’

  I swallowed hard, keeping very still.

  ‘Laura was so confused, even thought I was her daughter a couple of times. But then we all know her daughter died many years ago.’

  I could feel her heart pounding, as she pressed her body against my back.

  ‘And then you told me in December that you were going on morning TV – that’s when my little game began. The friend requests were so much fun. You do know you were responsible for all those deaths. If you hadn’t left me I wouldn’t have been so alone. So messed up by the care system.’

  Panic seared through my blood. ‘Please don’t kill me,’ I spluttered. ‘I was far too young to know any different, please stop.’ It was a pathetic attempt. She wasn’t going to stop. She was enjoying herself too much.

  ‘Did you kill my mother?’ It came out so quiet, the words drowned by fear.

  ‘I would have, but she conveniently had a heart attack when I told her who I was – that I was going to kill her and you. The shock, I suppose. Well that, and the fact I’d convinced her not to take her heart tablets. It didn’t take much – it was easy to plant fear in her that they were doing her harm.’

  ‘You’re pure evil,’ I said.

  ‘I am. Yes,’ she said. ‘In fact only fifteen per cent of serial killers are women, so that makes me special, don’t you think?’

  A tear rolled down my cheek. How could something I’d done when I was four years old have made her so tormented? My heart thudded with fear, but not only that, I was also angry with my mother for not telling me. How could she have kept this from me?

  ‘Walk!’ she yelled, a wicked sharpness in her voice, as she moved the blade away from my throat, and I felt its point nudging into the small of my back. ‘Hurry up!’

  I was shaking from head to foot as she guided me to the water’s edge, the cold water on the floor against my bare feet making me shudder, and the room started spinning.

  ‘Jump,’ she whispered into my ear, as she pushed the blade deeper into the towelling robe, the fabric splitting. I wanted to scream, but I was paralysed by fear.

  ‘I can’t swim,’ I croaked, sudden memories of almost drowning as a child flooding my mind – ‘Jump, jump, jump.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, and I turned to see a long thin smile stretch across her beautiful face. ‘That’s what makes it so much fun.’

  With a shove, she launched me into the deepest part of the pool, the water striking my face like a blade, the thick towelling robe pulling me down.

  I flailed my arms in an attempt to stay afloat, gasping for breath, memories of almost drowning as a child continuing to flood my mind. ‘Help me, please.’

  ‘Nobody’s going to help you, Caitlin,’ Zoe said, crouching on the edge, her eyes piercing me, her painted-on smile doll-like. ‘How long can you stay alive underwater?’ she continued. ‘My guess is not long. Two minutes perhaps?’

  Within moments, her words became muffled and inaudible as I dipped under the water, and then somehow scrambled to the surface once more.

  ‘Don’t waste your time,’ she said. ‘You might as well give in to it. You’re not coming out of there alive.’

  But the strength that left me earlier surged through me, as I thought of Grace – my precious daughter. If I left her now, at just four years old, I would become less than a memory – a photograph in an album, someone she was told about. The thought of my darling girl crying at my funeral, unable to understand where I’d gone, shot adrenaline through my body. I carried on splashing, heaving my body up above the water, choking and spluttering. I couldn’t give up on life. I wouldn’t give up out without a fight.

  Suddenly a shape emerged behind her. ‘What the hell are you doing, Bridie?’ It was Dillon.

  Through blurred vision, I saw her rise to her full height, and attempt to embrace him. But he tugged away. ‘For Christ sake, get her out of there. She’s going to drown.’

  He went to pass her, but she lunged at him with the knife, slicing his face. He pushed her aside with a lash of his arm, and jumped into the pool, the blood from his cheek swirling in the water, as he dragged me, choking, to the side, where we both held on to the edge.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ I said, breathlessly.

  I looked up. There was no sign of Zoe.

  Once he’d caught his breath, Dillon levered himself out of the pool, his dark hair dripping, his clothes heavy with water. I continued to grip on to the side, exhausted, shaking, my breath rasping in my chest.

  ‘Take my hand,’ he said, leaning down, his arm outstretched. And I was about to grab it, when Zoe appeared from nowhere, and, yelling manically, she hurtled towards him. I let out a scream, catching the glint of the blade as he turned and she plunged it into his stomach. He cried out in pain, eyes wide with shock as he crashed backwards onto the floor, blood oozing from his body as he held his side.

  ‘
You let me down, Dillon,’ she yelled, tugging at her damp hair, making it stand on end. ‘Why does everyone let me down?’

  I continued to grip the side of the pool, my breaths loud and uneven, tears streaming down my face. ‘You can’t let him die,’ I said, wanting to climb out of the pool, but conscious she was still holding the knife. ‘He loves you. He’s your brother.’ I had no idea if what I was saying would make her see sense, or provoke her further. But I didn’t know what else to do.

  She glared down at me. ‘He doesn’t love me,’ she snapped.

  ‘Yes, he does. I could tell you had a strong and special bond.’

  I looked at Dillon, moaning in agony. He was conscious, for now, but I wasn’t sure how long he would survive. If she’d hit an organ with the knife, he would need help fast.

  ‘Then why did he save you?’ she said, narrowing her eyes as she glared my way.

  ‘To save you from killing again, Zoe.’

  ‘Bridie,’ she yelled. ‘My name’s Bridie.’

  ‘If we call for help, he may live,’ I said, trying to ignore her anger.

  ‘I hadn’t meant for him to die,’ she said, her face softening as she looked at him groaning in pain. ‘He wasn’t on my to-kill list.’

  ‘Then save him – he’s never hurt you, has he?’

  She shook her head. ‘Dillon,’ she said, almost childlike. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘He will be, if you help him. He needs you, Bridie.’

  She dropped to her knees by his side. ‘Dillon, I’m sorry,’ she cried, taking hold of his hand. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. You just got in my way.’

  I dragged myself out of the pool, and stumbled towards my mobile, discarding the heavy robe as I went. ‘Ambulance and police,’ I cried into the phone, darting looks at Zoe. But she’d laid her head on his chest, unaware of me now. ‘Sorry,’ she was saying, over and over.

  Chapter 49

  Once the police had taken Zoe away, and the paramedics had made Dillon stable enough for transportation, I called a taxi.

  I left the poolroom, and headed up the stairs to get dressed, looking at my phone. Who can I call? Who can I trust? Who will listen now? It felt as though I had no one.