“Detective McKay? Are you all right?” Llewellyn’s voice came from behind her, but she ignored him and kept going, trying to remember how to get back to the reception. There were stairs in front of her, but they seemed impossibly steep.
“Hey. You’re not all right at all, are you? You’re dead on your feet.”
A strong hand hooked underneath her elbow and turned her around. Bronwen found she was too weak to pull herself away from him, but she must have bumped against the wall because she felt a sharp jab in the flesh of her arm.
“Was there a screw?” she frowned, trying to turn to look at her arm as Tate continued to keep hold of her. Llewellyn Farm didn’t seem like the kind of place to have screws or nails sticking out of the walls. What was that sensation she’d felt? Her eyelids drooped, and her knees buckled slightly.
“Here, let me take that cup from you. Look at you. You’re dog-tired, come on.” He walked her back into the room, managing to keep her upright. “Here. Lie down on the sofa. Rest for a while. Joe can finish up, can’t he? Have a nap now, there’s a good girl. And, Bronwen, no one called you on the phone at all, did they? You didn’t speak to anyone, you just fell asleep right here on this sofa for a few minutes. That’s right, nestle down. Get comfortable. You’re safe and well, Bronwen. Everything is fine.”
31
Hayley
She didn’t like this room. It was too small, and there were no windows. It made her think of Rodney’s cages and the birds squawking outside. In this place she felt like she was trapped again. But she had to keep reminding herself that this was different, because this time it was for a good cause, and she knew she was going to be okay. Hayley was down here to protect the farm, and that was what mattered.
Tate had explained it to her very carefully before they came down to the basement room, making her understand what she had to do. She had to stay out of sight until the police finished searching for her and Gemma. You see, Hayley made a mistake when she brought Gemma back to the farm. Bringing Gemma back wasn’t the mistake; in fact, having her back at the farm was a good thing. But she’d done it by force, and that was the bad thing. Gemma didn’t always realise what was good for her, so Hayley had to make the decision for them both. This time, however, she’d risked too much. She and Eoin had taken Gemma from a public place with cameras tracking their every move. Tate had sat her down and explained exactly why she shouldn’t have done that.
“Hayley, my pretty orchid. You’re so loyal. But you’ve been a little fool, sweet girl. The police will be looking for you now. You’re involved in the biggest murder investigation of the last few decades, and now you’ll bring the police to my door.” His knuckles had turned white as he’d clenched his fists tightly by his side. Then he’d taken a deep breath, reached out, stretching those clenched fingers until they splayed out, and stroked her face. “I’m going to have to hide you now. There’s no time for anything else.”
“I’m sorry,” Hayley replied, biting back tears. “I thought we had to come back to you. I brought Gemma back to you because I thought that was what you wanted.”
She’d glanced across at Gemma, still bound, glaring at her with furious eyes. Hayley glanced away. Gemma never knew what was good for her. Hayley had seen her make one reckless decision after another.
While they’d been in the hospital, Gemma had kept saying things to the police that didn’t make sense, like being in Rodney’s cage for months. None of that was true, and Hayley couldn’t understand what she was doing and why. All she knew was that Gemma was ruining it all. She thought that if she brought Gemma back to Tate, he would make her realise that her place was here at the farm with Hayley. Gemma would understand one day, she was sure of it.
Tate wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. Gently, he began to pull. “You’re more loyal to me than anyone else here.” He pulled a little harder. “I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you made a mistake.” His fingers tugged hard on her hair, until her eyes began to water, then he let her go. “Come with me, and I’ll show you where to hide. You, too, Eoin. Bring Gemma.”
He’d taken them to the back of the glass-walled house into a room that Hayley had never been in before. This had to be part of Tate’s living quarters. She’d always assumed that he lived in the area nearest to the glass patio doors by the terrace. Now they were heading deeper into the house.
“This is the second wing of the house,” Tate explained. “My favourite part.”
It was a stunning area. The open space had been divided into a library and a lounge by a grand water feature designed to imitate a waterfall. Black marble stone shone through the running water, twinkling as the ripples caught the ceiling lights. It was in a step formation, with the water travelling down to a grate in the floor. Tate moved across to the wall, lifted the cover of a small box and flipped a switch. The water ceased immediately, leaving only the smooth black steps. He bent down and pressed the third step from the bottom. There was a click, and the step lifted up to reveal a trapdoor underneath. As Hayley let out a little gasp of shock, Tate entered a number in a keypad and the trapdoor opened to reveal another set of steps leading down into darkness.
“In you go, Hayley,” Tate had said. “There’s a light switch on the left.”
She turned back to Gemma and saw her friend’s eyes wide with terror. Gemma was truly terrified, and Hayley was surprised to see her like that. Okay, so she’d forced Gemma back to the farm, but she hadn’t thought she’d be this afraid. Maybe she was all mixed up after what had happened with Rodney. Hayley still hadn’t recovered all of her memories, so she couldn’t fully remember what Rodney did to them, but as far as she knew, Gemma remembered everything and it had messed her up.
“It’ll be okay, Gem,” she’d said, trying to reassure her friend.
Hayley’s stomach had tingled with nerves as she took the first step into the darkness. Her fingers groped out to find the switch, and for a moment her breath caught in her chest. In her mind she saw the bodies from the cold room again, all arranged in a circle, Ellie staring at her, and she panicked, almost coming back up the stairs. Ellie.
The light came on and down she went. There was another door to be opened. Once she opened that door, she realised she was in some sort of panic room, which had a television, a sofa, a bed, food, and basically everything needed to survive a zombie outbreak. As her eyes roamed around the small space, she also noted another door, closed. But before she’d had time to wonder where it led, she’d glanced back to see Eoin dragging Gemma down the steps, and then the door had closed.
How long had they been down here since then? She’d played several rounds of gin rummy with Eoin, which he always won. Gemma was no longer gagged, but Hayley had been too afraid to remove her wrist ties in case she attacked them. Gemma sat in the farthest corner with a sullen look on her face.
“He’s a murderer, you know,” Gemma said, eyes low and dangerous. “You’re helping a murderer.”
“We’re protecting the farm,” Hayley replied.
“You’re delusional,” Gemma snapped. “You don’t remember any of it. He changed your memories, you idiot. You’re just a pawn he uses in his game, and now you’re not useful to him anymore. You’re a liability because the police are after us both. We’re both liabilities. We’re going to end up dead like Ellie.”
Ellie.
“Gemma, the cold room was all Rodney,” Hayley said. “Rodney’s dead now. Everything is going to be okay. Tate just needs to make sure we don’t bring too much attention to the farm with the police and everything.”
“Listen to the girl, Gemma,” Eoin added. “The Chemist knows what he’s doing, okay? Just sit tight now.”
“Why are you paying attention to anything that sexist pig says?” Gemma nodded towards Eoin. “He’s not your friend, Hayley. I’m your only friend. Think. Why would Tate be worried about the police finding us here? How would that hurt the farm?”
Hayley didn’t want to think about it. She wanted
to be back on the mango fields picking fruit or out on the terrace with the other backpackers, laughing and singing. The farm was the only place she’d ever been happy, and she needed to remember that.
“Gemma, stop worrying, okay? We’re going to be fine. Once everything has blown over, we can go back to working on the farm like before.”
Gemma shook her head. “No, we won’t. We’ll be put in the ground. Look at this place. It’s the lair of an evil, murdering psycho. Why else would he have a secret room, for God’s sake?”
Eoin scoffed.
“What are you laughing at?” Gemma demanded. “You’re dead, too, Eoin. You know too much.”
“Fuck off, will you?” Eoin swiped the cards from the table and stood up from the sofa, his frame looming over them both. “I’ve had about enough of your lip.”
“Eoin, stop!” Hayley rushed to her feet, positioning herself between Eoin and Gemma. His hands were balled into fists, and a ripple of tension worked its way along his jaw. “What are you doing?”
“She’s getting on my last nerve. I’m putting the gag back on.”
“Don’t you dare,” Gemma said. “I’ll bite your fingers off.”
“Jesus Christ.” Eoin rolled his eyes in frustration. “It wasn’t worth bringing this fucking gobshite back, was it?” He turned to Hayley. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but she’s going to ruin this for everyone.”
“She’s not,” Hayley pleaded. “She just needs to come around. Once Tate has talked to her properly, she’ll remember how good it was here. Eoin, please, let’s just sit down and play cards again, yeah? You were winning.”
“Wake up, Hayley. Get out of fantasy land,” Gemma said.
“That’s it, I’m gagging her.”
Eoin shoved Hayley out of the way and tried to pull the rag up from around Gemma’s neck. But Gemma was true to her word, biting down on Eoin’s fingers until he yelped.
“Feel like a big man, huh?” Gemma cried at him. “Forcing me to shut up, just like you were forced to shut up and take it? In your cabin that night, forced to be a pretty boy? You know what he did. He liked the feeling of control—whether it was boys or girls.”
Eoin’s eyes darkened with rage.
He wrapped his hands around Gemma’s throat. His face was bright red now, and tendons bulged from his neck. He pressed his thumbs hard against Gemma’s neck as she squirmed underneath him. Hayley didn’t understand what Gemma had said to Eoin, but she knew one thing. He was going to kill her. He was actually going to kill Gemma. This wasn’t right. None of this was supposed to happen.
After a moment of panicked hesitation, Hayley pulled herself together and grasped hold of Eoin’s arm, digging her nails into his flesh. She was sure that if she jolted him out of his stupor, he would realise what he was doing and stop. But it was taking longer than she thought.
“Eoin!” She slapped his face. “Eoin, stop, you’ll kill her!” She balled her hand into a fist and punched him squarely in the nose. A little blood burst from the blow, Eoin fell backwards, holding the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, while Hayley dropped to her knees to make sure Gemma was okay.
Hayley’s stomach flipped when she saw the red bruises on Gemma’s neck. Gemma’s throat rattled as she wheezed in and out, desperate for air. But at least she was alive and conscious. Hayley rushed to get Gemma a glass of water from the tiny bathroom cubicle at the back of the bunker.
Gemma took a sip and then leaned her head back against the wall. “Do you see”—she rasped, the words seeming to take all her energy—“who you have aligned with?”
32
Bronwen
The super was a big guy, almost as red in the face as Joe, but definitely less fit. Usually, when Bronwen was stuck in a room with him, she found herself drawn to the neck rolls that spilled over the collar of his jacket. Today, however, she found it difficult to raise her eyes from her tightly knitted hands resting on her thighs.
“In all my years on the force I’ve never seen such a cock-up as this.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he talked. When he wasn’t leaning across his desk like a bull over a matador, he was pacing his office from one end to the other.
“I know, sir—”
“Not another word out of you!” A short, stubby finger bobbed up and down in the air between them.
Despite the super’s weight gain since he passed fifty, he was still a formidable officer with a past on the force that couldn’t be dismissed. Superintendent Jones took down Jimmy Flint, the drug lord of Katherine. Jones was decent, and Bronwen hated this spittle-soaked dressing down so much that she felt a stress headache coming on.
He rocked back on his heels and sighed. “You’re on this case because you’re reliable, McKay. What happened to you? I can’t have a lead officer fall asleep during a search! Any evidence found in a search like that would be laughed out of court! The suspect—from a family worth billions for God’s sake—had to find you a fucking pillow! He sat there and watched you take a nap like a toddler!”
Every time Bronwen thought about it, she felt a combination of strange emotions. Firstly, she felt sick. Then she felt oddly calm. Then she panicked, because she knew it was her career on the line.
“Then the search turned up nothing. Not even a fucking spliff, which I find pretty hard to get my head around. Who tipped them off? That’s what I want to know.” He shook his head. “If you ask me, those girls went there. I don’t know if they’re still there, but they definitely went there and he knew you were going after him.”
“Sir, can I say anything yet?”
He threw his hands up in the air as though through with the whole sorry situation. “Oh, what the ever-loving shit do I care anymore? Fine, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I know that your first instinct will be to take me off the case—”
“You’re damn right it is,” he said.
“But the thing is, I’m the highest-ranking detective you’ve got, and you can’t afford to lose time by transferring someone from elsewhere. I know this case inside out, and I can still be useful. I know I fucked up. I was exhausted. I’d been sleeping in my office.” Bronwen allowed her head to drop. “The pressure got to me for a minute, I’ll be the first to admit that, but you have to keep me on the case.”
Jones regarded her with one last, long stare. “You’re staying on the case. But you’re taking a day off.”
“Yes, sir. Very good.”
“And, McKay, listen to me. The commissioner wants this over, we both know that. He’s putting pressure on me to wrap this thing up with Rodney White as the guy.” He paused, licked his lips. “This is between you and me. Right?”
“Right.” Bronwen fiddled with the cuff of her jacket.
“He’s under pressure from Llewellyn senior. The two play fucking golf together, when senior isn’t in London or New York, that is.”
“Jesus, I had no idea.”
“Well, you do now.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, sir, and you know, I think we’ve pursued this Llewellyn angle as far as it’ll go. Maybe I was wrong about an accomplice after all.” Bronwen pressed her fingernail down on the flesh of her thumb. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Her head was pounding, her stomach wasn’t right, and there were times when she felt spaced out and dizzy. Was she coming down with the flu? “The evidence is stacking up against White. He made deliveries to the farm, which would explain how he found his victims. He rented the slaughterhouse. He had the girls with him when he died.” Bronwen shrugged. “Maybe I let my judgement get clouded by my suspicions about Tate.”
Jones sighed. “I don’t know anymore. The commissioner is putting more pressure on us than usual, and I’ll be honest, that makes me wonder if there’s something going on, given his relationship with Llewellyn senior. But what can I do? He’s the commissioner.”
Bronwen paused for a moment, thinking. Then she said, “Sir, this case will be over by the end of the week. I guarantee it.�
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Jones grimaced. “Just don’t fuck it up again, all right?”
Bronwen’s day off hadn’t gone quite according to plan. She’d headed home, fallen asleep, and dreamt the strangest dream. In her dream, everything seemed to make sense. Rodney was the man she was after, and his death meant that the case was solved. She was free. But then she’d woken up and remembered the complexities that had been frustrating her since the first day on this case. But every time she thought about one of those annoying details that didn’t fit, a small voice at the back of her mind kept saying: it could all be so much easier if you just accept the truth. And then she thought she heard Tate Llewellyn tell her to “sleep tight.”
In the mirror, she examined a bruise on her arm. It’d been there since the day of the search. Every time she thought about the search at the farm, she felt deeply ashamed of herself, so much so that she wanted to vomit. Right now, she remembered how she’d woken up by rolling off the sofa onto the carpet, with Tate standing over her smiling. Had that been the cause of the bruise?
She’d barely eaten since that day, shedding even more weight. Soon she’d be skin and bone.
She sauntered into the kitchen, poured a coffee, and took it out onto the porch. Yep, she was right, the little garden she’d created was dying off from lack of water. She took her watering can and started drip-feeding water into the pots, one at a time. But as she reached for her secateurs to begin pruning away dead leaves, her phone rang.
“It’s Joe. Look, I know this is some sort of scheduled day off and everything, but the long-haul driver, Adam Johnson, just woke up from his coma.”
She told Joe she was leaving, put away the watering can, dressed in a suit, tied her hair back, and made her way to the car. When she reached the ward, Joe was waiting with a coffee, but she shook her head.
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