All Your Fault: a gripping psychological thriller that will keep you guessing

by NJ Moss

  “Do what?”

  Benny tapped his nose, eyes glimmering playfully. It was these moments that convinced me I was wrong. There was no humanity in Benny Evans. He was going to do terrible things to me once his tale was told.

  I shifted my hand over and over, moving as subtly as I could afford.

  “After that, it was time to use Olivia again. I wanted her to steal your phone for an hour.” I knew I hadn’t misplaced it. “It took more persuading and blackmail than I want to think about. ‘What did this woman do to you?’ she asked. I saw some real fear in her eyes. I told her you’d hurt me really bad and I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. I could tell part of her didn’t believe me, but part of her did. Part of her needed to. What did it say about her if she’d trusted a monster?”

  “Is that what you are, Benny?”

  He flinched. “I don’t know. You’re looking at me like I’m one.”

  “That’s not how I feel.” I turned my eyes down. “I’m sorry if it comes across that way.”

  I told myself I was lying. He was a monster, and I was an innocent woman he’d mind-fucked and kidnapped and might very well kill. But every time I skipped into that corner of my mind, Hope reared up, her braid made of deformed guts, sticky with blood, and when she smiled she showed a mouthful of seashells.

  Benny and Gracie, sitting in a tree, Hope sang in my mind. M-U-R-D-E-R me…

  “The hacker came down from London. Part of me still didn’t believe he could do this. But I wasn’t going to back down. We went and sat in the café opposite Clive’s office. We were waiting for Olivia. I’d made sure to stay round hers the night before to keep her focused. She was so torn up about it. She was having full-blown panic attacks.”

  “But she did it.”

  “Yep, and my man did some magic on the laptop. He showed me how it all worked afterward.”

  “How what worked?” I asked. “What did you do?”

  “Basically, there are programs for androids that let people access their phones remotely.” He waved his hands as though giving a lecture, shifting smoke around. “From their computers. I guess some tech companies and big corporations use them. This hacker had modified one of these programs so the user had complete access to the phone.

  “What do you mean? I’m not the best with technology.”

  “It’s insane, Grace, it really is,” he said, ignoring my question. “Even twenty years ago this stuff would’ve been science fiction, but here it was, a simple double-click on my computer. It worked like a charm. A fly on the wall. You’ve heard that phrase, right? That’s what it was like. I listened to you telling Troy how happy you were when he got his publication contract.”

  “You could listen to me?”

  “It’s incredible, isn’t it? I hardly believed it at first. It was as simple as double-clicking a program on my computer.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I said, my mind throwing up a thousand moments he could’ve tapped in on.

  He was sitting silently on the bedside table as Troy and I made love. He was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as I scolded Russ for kicking the cupboard in beautiful boyish excitement. He was jammed into my pocket when Mia talked to me about how alone she felt.

  “That was me, Grace.”

  “What was you?” I said, my voice shaking a little. I couldn’t stop it.

  “Publishers don’t offer contracts to unpublished writers who haven’t even finished books, not unless they’re celebrities.”

  I let out something like a laugh and a sob, a jagged, ugly noise. If I got out of here alive, neither of us would have a job. We might lose our family home.

  “I made a website and an email, and I got the advance money from Clive. I even put up some stock book covers and descriptions, and some links to Amazon and Waterstones. The links didn’t go anywhere, but apparently Troy either didn’t check or he didn’t care.”

  “It meant the world to him. He’s dreamed of being a writer for so, so long.”

  Benny refused to look at me. He skulked near the washing machine, facing the opposite wall. I stared at him, willing him to turn his gaze to mine, so he could see the hurt in my eyes, the pain he’d caused. He couldn’t kill me after seeing that, could he?

  “I needed Troy to quit work because then it’d make it harder for you to quit work, what with you being the only earner in the house.”

  “And then it would be easier for you to keep me in your playground,” I said. “I bet you laughed like mad when you heard me persuading Troy to quit work.”

  “I didn’t laugh.” There was a note of petulance in his voice. “I’d been thinking of a way to persuade Vicky to fire him or to somehow get him to quit. And then, shit, you’d gone and done it for me. I was relieved. But I didn’t fucking laugh.”

  “You liked it though.”

  He kicked away from the washing machine, spinning to me. “I’m telling the damn story, not you.”

  I leaned back, lowering my gaze. I hated how quickly he could turn me to prey. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He paused for a time, opening and closing his lighter, click-click-click.

  “The program came in handy the night you found Mia with all her paintings torn down,” he said finally. “Remember how your phone kept interrupting you? It was Clive, right? He rang and kept hanging up. And then he sent you a text.”

  “But it wasn’t Clive.”

  “I went into my program and I changed his number to mine, so when the calls and texts appeared, you’d think it was him.”

  I wanted to ask if he’d written those messages during my party, Hope’s messages, but I knew he wouldn’t like it. He needed to tell this deranged story at his own speed, apparently. He needed me to indulge him.

  “Earlier that week, I’d gone to meet this bloke one of my mate’s knew, one of those guys everyone’s aware of. I told him I wanted as much coke as he could get me, and then I handed him what I wanted it wrapped in. It was the paper your family had for Christmas one year, posted in a photo I found on Facebook.”

  Underneath all the pain and rage, a flicker of relief moved through me. Here was proof, at least. I wasn’t mad. I hadn’t imagined it.

  “When I heard how much your daughter needed you, I knew it was my chance. Part of me didn’t think you’d do it. It’s really unreasonable, Grace, but by then you were starting to unravel.”

  “Yes.” It was all I could say.

  “Clive was pretty quick on his feet when he told you it was a games console. I didn’t let him know I was pulling the stunt. Let the bastard be surprised. But I guess you don’t get to be a successful businessman without being a good liar.”

  “He’s a very good liar. I’ve witnessed it several times.”

  Benny paced over to me. I stiffened, sat up straighter, and prayed he didn’t walk around the chair and see the mess I’d made of the duct tape. He paused just shy of me, worrying at his lighter, opening and closing it frantically. “My old man gave me this. On his deathbed, before he told me he wished I was never born, he gave me his favourite lighter. Do you think it was a sign? Do you think he wanted me to smoke myself to death too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No, either do I. I won’t lie, Grace. Part of me liked that you were feeling like you couldn’t trust yourself. That’s how I’ve felt every day of my life after what you did to me.”

  51

  “One day I took Hope to the fancy dress shop in town.”

  “So your daughter’s name is Hope.”

  “Of course her name is Hope. It had to be. I’d stolen one Hope from the world. I owed it another.”

  I nodded, as though his logic made complete sense. And perhaps it did. Perhaps it was as simple as that: one optimistic, smiling girl for another.

  “She loved it, running up and down the aisles, a big smile on her face.”

  “I took Russ to a fancy dress shop a few weeks ago,” I said, remembering how he’d traipsed around the place, a pirate one minut
e and a space cadet the next. “He loved it too.”

  “I let her pick out some costumes and she chose the blue one from that cartoon, with the white wig. Ah, what’s it called? There’s that song, let it goooo? Damn, it’s right on the tip of my tongue.”

  “Frozen. Mia used to love that. She claims she’s outgrown it, but every now and then, she’ll drop some heavy hints that she wants to watch it. She won’t come out and say it though.”

  “She’s too cool for it, eh?” Benny said, and here we were: two parents, sharing some banter, like we were friends and not torturer and victim, captor and captive.

  “Yeah.” I smiled, and it felt real. “She thinks she is, anyway.”

  I prayed I’d get a chance to watch Frozen with Mia again, to tease her as she resisted the urge to sing along, and then both of us would explode into song, unable to stop ourselves.

  “Your little sister’s hair was quite a particular shade of brown,” he said. “You can see that in the photos on her memorial page and in news articles and on Facebook. My daughter’s hair is blonde, like Lacy’s, like yours.”

  “Mother called Hope’s hair walnut-brown,” I told him, the memory stabbing at me. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a real memory, or yet another mind-made device of torture.

  “Yeah, that’s it, walnut. I was hoping for one that came braided, but I could always learn how to do that. There was bound to be a tutorial on the internet.”

  “What did you do, Benny?” I asked, but I knew. I knew and it hurt.

  “One afternoon I picked up Hope, and Grace, I have to say, I love her and I’d die before I let anything happen to her. I want to make that clear. All right?”

  Emotion crept into his voice, seeming as real as his other displays. I searched his face, his furrowed brows, for any sign of artifice. Maybe he was playing me. But it felt real. It felt like he truly cared. “I believe you.”

  “It was all a big game to her. After a day of crazy golf, the cinema, and a burger, I took her to the offices. I knew you were working overtime. I’d paid special attention to the report you were hand-copying that evening, making sure the freelancer had added even more car collision references than usual. I told them to add some hit-and-run ones too, to really head-fuck you. I’d also bullied Olivia into giving you double doses of pre-workout, so you were properly on edge.”

  “I was on edge. It was horrible.”

  He flinched, as though my sentence had struck him, as though he couldn’t stand being faced with what he’d done. And yet, bizarrely, he had to tell me. He had to make this version of himself real: the Benny who had schemed in the shadows.

  “I told Hope to go into the office and look for you. She skipped ahead and the braid of her wig was bouncing on her back, the way it would if she was riding a bike. I’d bought a dress with rabbits on, like your Hope was wearing when she died, that dress, haunting my damn dreams. I bought a rock-seashell bracelet on Etsy for like three quid. It was easy.”

  I laughed or coughed or something. It was a noise, and it held pain and hate and humour all mashed together. Mother had always protested the bracelet was utterly unique, irreplaceable, but he’d fooled me for the price of a meal deal.

  “Hope did really well. When she came skipping around the corner afterward – you were screaming – I scooped her up and cradled her to my chest and ran down the stairs. In the car, she said she’d told you her name. She thought she’d done something wrong, the poor girl. I kissed her on the head and took off the wig and told her no, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was my princess and I’d always protect her.”

  He wandered over to the steps, dropping down. He hugged his arms across himself and leaned back, staring at the wall. I took the chance to worry some more at the duct tape, even as my mind reeled and spun. The job, Troy’s publishing deal, the present, the reports, the man in the black hat, my madness with Hope and the messages—here it was, here he was, the prime fucking mover.

  “You sent me those messages,” I said after a pause.

  “I was watching you through the front-facing camera each time I typed one out.” He nodded. “It was amazing, how well you managed to keep yourself together. I could see the fear in your eyes but otherwise you looked like your normal self.”

  “I had to. I thought I was going mad. I couldn’t inflict that on my family.”

  “You snapped in the end though. You were finally experiencing what I’ve experienced all my damn life. You deserved it. I stand by that.”

  52

  He sat on the step, rocking slightly, as though he was ramping up to something. But what? He’d already committed all the horror he could against me, unless he was going to end it, end me, and steal a mother from my children and a wife from my husband.

  “In a way it’s good Olivia caved and gave you my name – well, the name she thought was mine – and you came here.” He stood and walked toward me. “If we weren’t talking now, I don’t know what my next move would be. You were stronger than I thought. Even when you were cracking up on the inside, you always managed to look like you had your shit together. You remind me of Lacy, in a way, when she’s all sassy and ready to go. Capable.”

  “Thank you.” My voice felt and sounded hollow.

  “Lacy and I are getting back together,” he said. “A woman like Lacy, fiery and full of life, she can’t respect a worm like Clive. He isn’t a man. He’s not even a person. He’s broken.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Benny was standing a few feet shy from me, his hands hanging at his sides, like waiting weapons that could be called to use any moment. I cringed away from him. My wrist was so close to freedom – I thought – and yet he could maul me any moment he felt like it. I was defenceless.

  “When I first joined the book club, I didn’t know what to expect,” he mused. “I’d watched you over the years and I knew a lot about you, but I’d never talked to you. Even when I did, I didn’t know if you were acting. But I know. I can tell. You care about family as much as I do.”

  “Of course I do,” I said passionately. “Troy, Mia, Russ. They’re all that matter to me, Benny, just like Hope and Lacy matter to you.”

  “Jesus, that club…” He grinned, shaking his head. “I’ve read more books since I joined than in all my school years put together.”

  “And you always chose books related to death. Did you want to draw out my jagged memories?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe I was working through some stuff.”

  “Yeah. I’d imagine so.”

  “When you asked me my name, I panicked. I hadn’t thought of one. Part of me assumed you’d recognise me, but the more time I spent with you, the more I thought no, she’s not fucking around, she really doesn’t know who I am.”

  “I didn’t,” I tell him. “I still don’t remember you from that evening, not in detail. It’s so hazy. Everything is such a jumble. I remember bits and pieces. I remember the top of the hill; I think I always have, in some way. But the bottom is so hard to grasp. Maybe I don’t want to.”

  There was understanding in his eyes as he watched me, as though he felt my pain as much as I felt his. “The mind, Grace, it’s a scary thing, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the most terrifying thing there is.”

  “I chose Mike Tyson and George Foreman as the boxers’ names I’d use for my alias,” he said. “Iron Mike and Big George Foreman. Mike Foreman. I think it has a nice ring to it.”

  “Sure,” I agreed dully, hating that I was here, hating all he’d told me.

  And yet a piece of me sang, rejoiced, cheered: I hadn’t imagined it. All of it had happened. If I was mad, at least it wasn’t in precisely that way.

  It was hard to think of him as Mike, as the man I’d known in book club.

  “Gaslighting doesn’t even come close to describing what you did to me,” I said.

  “What’s gaslighting?”

  I laughed like a deranged person. You are a deranged person. “You
’re joking, right? You’re the poster child for it.”

  “What is it?”

  “It means you manipulated me to make me think I’m going insane. That’s what it fucking means, and that’s what you fucking did.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t blame you for being angry.”

  I needed to stay calm. I was so close. I was ready to fight, to bleed, to scream. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No. I’m not a killer. I mean…”

  “You didn’t kill her, Benny. It was an accident.”

  “I ran. The run part of hit-and-run. That’s what makes me a killer.”

  “You were a child. You were scared.”

  “You’re trying to talk me into letting you go, Grace. I understand. You have a family. I’m the same. I’m not a monster. But the thing is, if I let you go, you might tell someone.”

  “I don’t want anyone knowing about this any more than you do.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I need some insurance.”

  He wandered to the bottom of the stairs and leaned down, and then stood up with a video camera in his hand. As he flipped out the display screen, I read the words HD and remembered a similar camera Troy had brought home when Mia was two, beaming proudly, ready to carve our happiness into a digital forever.

  “What happened the evening your little sister died, Grace?” He aimed the camera at me. “What happened at the top of that hill?”

  “Do you really think I’m going to do this?”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  53

  Benny gestured with the camera. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  What would my children prefer, that I died here as the mother they loved and respected, or I returned to them a killer, a broken thing, no longer the mother they knew?

  “Are you just going to stare at me, Grace?”