THE SIX: A Dark, Dazzling Serial Killer Story

by Anni Taylor

  Relax. Relax. Don’t scare her. Lilly isn’t going to die. Everything’s okay. “Honey, she’s going to be here for a bit longer. We want to make sure she’s all better first.”

  “When’s Mummy coming?”

  “When she can.”

  “When is that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She went away . . . for work. To make some money. She’ll be back soon.”

  “Doesn’t she know Lilly’s sick?” The tone in Willow’s voice was imperious, sounding like a queen whose kingdom was falling apart.

  “I haven’t been able to talk to her yet. She doesn’t know about Lilly.”

  At last, I got a small nod. Something I’d said had satisfied her. And Willow wasn’t easily satisfied. She was like her mother, drilling down on a subject until she had enough answers. I pitied whatever teacher she’d get when she went to school next year.

  Giving Willow’s hand a final squeeze, I stepped out of earshot, took out my phone and looked up Verity’s number. I’d only ever called her twice—on the days of the births of Willow and Lilly. Never before or since. She was going to know something was up the moment she saw my number flash on her phone’s screen.

  “Yes, hello?”

  “Verity, it’s Gray.”

  “Gray? Is something wrong?”

  “Lilly’s really sick. We’re in the hospital. Westmead Children’s Hospital.”

  “Oh dear. What’s she got? Another virus? I told Evie—”

  “It’s not a virus. I . . . I need some help at the moment.”

  “So, Eveline got you to call me.”

  “No, she’s not here.”

  “Well, where is she?”

  “I’m not sure where she is. She . . . left me.”

  “Seriously? She left you? Well, it’s all making sense then. She came by wanting money the other week.”

  “She did? I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes. Why is Lilly with you? Didn’t Eveline take her? What about Willow? Where is she?”

  “She didn’t take either of them. She left them with Marla.”

  “Marla? That twit? Oh for goodness sake. Why didn’t she just bring them here?”

  “I don’t know. You can ask me all kinds of questions about what your daughter’s been doing lately, but I’m not going to be able to answer them. What I need to know is if you can give me a hand right now. I need to stay at the hospital with Lilly, but I can’t keep Willow here any longer. She’s already been here too long.”

  “Of course. I’ll pack some things, and I’ll come and stay until Eveline returns.”

  “You’re coming to my house? I thought you’d—”

  “Of course. It’s too disruptive for Willow to bring her here. She’s got all her things at her own home, and I can take her to preschool. Children need to be kept to a routine, even in times of crisis.”

  “Okay, sure. Thank you.”

  “Oh, and who’s looking after your cat?”

  I went silent. I’d forgotten Socks, the girls’ cat. The cat had spent almost a day without being fed. “She’s fine,” I croaked. I’d ask Verity to heap her bowl up later.

  Ending the conversation, I headed back over to Willow. “Honey, your nanna’s coming to get you and take you home. I’ll stay here with Lilly.”

  I could practically see my words cycling through her mind. “I’m not leaving here without Lilly. I’ll sleep with her in her bed.” She stuck out her small chin determinedly.

  “Willow, hospitals are places for sick people. You can’t stay here.”

  She held me in an intense gaze for a moment, a gaze that I was sure was saying that the adult world made no sense. And I couldn’t give her any assurance that things would seem any different when she grew up.

  Very little over the past three days had made any sense to me either.

  Everything was caught up in some kind of crazy storm.

  26. CONSTANCE

  A NOISE DRILLED INTO MY EAR.

  I drifted awake.

  My phone. It was my phone.

  Please be Kara.

  I twisted to a sitting-up position and snatched it from the bed. Outside the window, the world had grown dark. I’d slept for hours. I glanced at the clock beside the bed as I put the phone to my ear. Eight at night.

  “Mrs Lundquist?”

  I recognized Detective Gilroy’s voice.

  “Yes, it’s me.” What did he know?

  “I’ve found out two pieces of information about Kara.”

  I held my breath, audibly, like a small child. “Okay?”

  “It’s nothing bad, so don’t get too worried. The first thing is that she was picked up by police for suspected prostitution about a week and a half ago. At the Star Casino, Sydney. But there ended up being no real evidence, and no charges were laid. It seems she was seen there on a number of occasions by staff, and on each occasion, she was with an older man.”

  “Oh dear God. At the casino?”

  “Yeah, apparently. Anyway, I hope it makes you feel better that she’s been seen about. The second thing is that I found out she’s no longer in Sydney.”

  “She’s not in Sydney? Where is she?”

  “I’ll explain. First thing this morning, I took a look at the website that you’d told Detective Yarris about. And it seemed to me that the girls on there are looking for sugar daddies. The girls are looking for gifts, dinners, trips away—”

  “That’s right. But what—?”

  “Well, it was the trips away part of it that had me wondering. The trips can be within Australia, or anywhere in the world. The man gets company, the girl gets to see the world. That kind of thing. So I did a check on any flights Kara might have taken in the past month. Seems that Kara boarded a flight for the UK about a week ago.”

  “The UK? She’s not even here in this country? Who was she with? That man from the casino?”

  “That I’m not sure about. She bought her own ticket—to London. So, there’s a chance she flew to London by herself. Her flight might have nothing at all to do with the sugar daddy website. She might have other reasons.”

  “All this time,” I breathed softly, “she was in London. She wasn’t even here.”

  “Look, I’m not saying she’s still in London. Just that she travelled there from Sydney. All I can tell you with any certainty is that she didn’t return to Australia. Nor did she buy a return flight.”

  “Can you find out where she went after that?”

  I heard the trace of a sigh. “I’m afraid not. I’ll speak with London police, just to get her name in their system. So far, it doesn’t look like a case of people trafficking or anything like that, but she is underage for the lifestyle she’s been leading. I’ll do what I can to have them follow it up, but there’s probably not a lot they can do. And she’s very close to turning eighteen. I’ll call you again soon to give you a police contact name in London.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I appreciate your efforts.” I ended the call, feeling like I was drowning with one hand still above the surface. There was hope, but I remained underwater.

  In the detective’s eyes, Kara was a young, independent woman. In my eyes, she was just a little girl. It didn’t seem that long ago she was blowing out the candles at her tenth birthday party.

  I called James. I needed to speak to him and hear his voice.

  When he answered the phone, his voice was thick with sleep. I’d woken him in the early hours. He was tired, he said, from his business trip to New York. Briefly, I explained about Kara being seen at the casino and her flight to London, leaving out any mention of the men she’d been seeing.

  James listened in silence, finally giving a confused, exasperated murmur. “What was she doing at the casino?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks she’s all grown up now and wants to do adult things.”

  “Who was she with? I’m really disappointed in her.”

  “Me too. All I know is that the po
lice know she was there on a few occasions. She was picked up for a . . . misdemeanour.”

  His tone turned quick and sharp. “A misdemeanour? Hell, what did Kara do?”

  “Nothing, as it turns out. It turned out to be nothing. No charges. James . . . I know you’re busy, but I need you. Can you meet me in London?”

  “Sweetheart . . .”

  “Just . . . please. Take some time off.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You sound frazzled. That’s not good for you.”

  “I am frazzled. At the end of my rope.”

  “Then come back home. What time is it there? Jump on a plane today. I’ll get someone to find Kara—someone who knows what they’re doing. We’ll find her. Don’t worry. Then we’ll fly straight to wherever she is. And then she’s coming back here to finish college. No ifs or buts. She’s shown us she’s not responsible enough to do this on her own.”

  James expected a lot from Kara. After all the money he’d spent on her education and all the time he’d spent patiently tutoring her in math and science, I understood why.

  I relaxed a little. James had a plan. Soon, Kara would be back living with us in Lafayette.

  “Okay,” I breathed. “Okay, we’ll do that.”

  “See you soon, Sweetheart. I’d better get some shut-eye. Big day tomorrow. Would you believe that Snowy tore up the sofa cushions again last night? I think he’s really missing Kara.”

  Snowy, Kara’s very white Japanese Spitz, had taken to chewing on things that he saw as belonging to Kara. Kara was the one to gather all the sofa cushions around her every time she sat to watch TV.

  “Poor Snowy. I bet Kara’s missing him, too.”

  “I’ll bet she is.” James begged off, yawning and making me promise to call him before I left Sydney in the morning.

  I began packing my things into the suitcase. From the start, I should have done what James suggested—hire a private investigator. It’d been far too difficult trying to do this on my own.

  Locking the suitcase, I perched on the edge of the bed, staring around the bland, lonely room. Should I try to fly out tonight? There was no point now in staying. Then another thought: should I get the ball rolling with a private investigator? James was busy—this was something I could do. I told myself it was too late to call anyone until I remembered that the time would be different in London.

  Switching on my laptop, I checked international times. Eight p.m. in Sydney, Australia, was roughly three a.m. in America and nine a.m. in England.

  I decided to look for someone now. Someone in London. I browsed through the results for private investigators. They were expensive—upwards of a hundred American dollars per hour—but money wasn’t a problem. I just needed someone who’d do a thorough job.

  I tried a couple of people first who said they had a high success rate. But I found myself listening to recorded messages on their answering machines. No, I wasn’t prepared to wait all day for a call back. I wanted to talk to someone now. I came across the website of a lady named Rosemary Oort. The website wasn’t as flashy as the others I’d looked at, but her words sounded comforting: I research every case personally, approaching each one with enormous care and sensitivity. Sorry, but I do not take on cases of suspected infidelity.

  Maybe she was what I needed.

  Picking up my phone again, I called her office.

  27. GRAY

  I JUMPED AWAKE IN MY CHAIR as the phone rang, snatching it from my pocket and answering it so as not to wake Lilly.

  “Gray?” came the voice. “It’s Verity. How’s Lilly doing?”

  I glanced across at Lilly’s small form in the hospital bed. “Still sleeping. She’s doing okay.”

  “Poor mite. Have the doctors said when she’ll be coming home?”

  “Yeah, maybe later today, maybe not. They’re watching how she does on the antibiotics and steroids.”

  “Well, tell them from me they should keep her a bit longer. I’m still getting this house in order. It’s a brothel.”

  I winced at the word brothel. “Verity, c’mon, it was a bit messy—”

  “A bit? There’s stuff everywhere! So much clutter. And there’s the matter of mould around Willow’s window. I was quite shocked. I’m dosing the entire room in mould killer.”

  “Evie’s always taking care of the mould. Gets worse when it rains like this for days. She tried using the harsh stuff before, but Lilly broke out in a rash—”

  “Nonsense. You have to kill it or it will come back.”

  “Okay, cool. I gotta go now. Doctor’s just come in.”

  There was no doctor. But I was too exhausted to argue with Verity. I was raw. Everything inside me emptied out. There was no sleep in hospitals. Things beeped and rattled all night, and nurses and doctors came in and out.

  A doctor suddenly appeared in the room, twisting reality and making me not have told a lie to Verity. I didn’t know whether to feel cheated or virtuous.

  “Mr Harlow,” he said, “Lilly appears to be stable. And I’m sure both you and she would be more comfortable at home. You can take her home this afternoon, but if she develops any worrying symptoms, then bring her back in.”

  “How will I know? What kind of symptoms?”

  He looked surprised. “If the fever returns or her breathing becomes rapid or strained, or if she just seems to be worse in some way.” His forehead puckered into a deep V. “Have you managed to contact her mother?”

  “No . . . not yet. But Evie’s mother is staying with us at the moment.”

  “Oh, good. Before you go, I’ll give you some information on how to clear the bronchial airways each day.”

  Three hours later, I gathered up my sleepy daughter and took her home. She didn’t express surprise or ask questions, seeming to be in a distant, hazy zone of her own. I had the depressing thought that we all take this life journey alone, even children. They could get sick or die, and that cross was theirs to bear.

  Even when Willow squealed and ran to give her a typically squeezy hug, Lilly barely responded. I set her up on the sofa with a blanket and her favourite soft toy.

  Verity watched on with a wry expression, as if Lilly getting sick was somehow my fault.

  I thought Verity would be rushing out the door as soon as I was back, muttering words about impositions and work commitments.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she showed all signs of lodging here for a long time. She’d nested in the sunroom, making a bed out of the futon, surrounding herself with various exercisers, salt lamps and devices. I later learned that a couple of those devices were an ionizer and sleep apnea machine. She seemed to need a great deal of contraptions to get by in this world.

  Willow and Lilly’s bedrooms smelled of strong bleach. Whatever germs and creeping mould had dared exist within those walls had been exterminated. I wasn’t going to let the girls sleep in their bedrooms tonight. I’d drag their mattresses downstairs and make out like it was an adventure to sleep in the living room. I’d sleep on the sofa, to keep an eye on Lilly.

  “Want a coffee, Gray?” Verity called from the kitchen.

  “Sure. Thanks.” Stepping into the kitchen, I parked myself on a stool.

  While the kettle boiled, Verity straightened the mess of kids’ drawings that were fixed to the fridge. Her nose wrinkled beneath the bridge of her glasses as she plucked one of Willow’s drawings out and studied it. It was a drawing of her sister and herself, labelled with her tall, shaky lettering. “Lord knows why Eveline had to butcher Lilly’s name and spell it with two Ls instead of one.”

  “She wanted it to match with Willow’s name, I think.” I’d never given the spelling of my daughter’s name any thought. And why Verity thought it important to bring it up right now, I couldn’t guess. “Hey, thanks for being here for them. It’s been a bit of a slog the last few days.”

  She smiled. “They’re lovely girls.”

  “Yes, they are.” Closing my eyes for a moment, I rested my head on my
hands. In the space of a few days, my life had turned upside down and emptied out its entrails.

  My eyes opened to Verity studying me while she poured hot water into two cups. “I thought she’d leave you one day, Gray.”

  She’d caught me unawares. Being unawares with Verity was never a wise thing. She’d kick the chair out from under you when you weren’t looking.

  “She left the girls behind, too,” I commented.

  “She never was any good with responsibilities. That’s why I thought she’d take off. Too flighty.”

  Did Verity know Evie better than I did? I’d fooled myself into thinking that I held that honour. I’d always thought she was completely wrong about her daughter.

  “Well, maybe I’m just finding that out,” I answered. “Anyway, she’s made her choice. Now I need to concentrate on getting Lilly better.”

  But her eyes sharpened. She wasn’t finished injecting her particular brand of Verity into the room. Not yet. “Perhaps Eveline couldn’t cope with Lilly being sick all the time.”

  I stalled on my reply, not wanting to admit to Verity that Evie had been short-tempered lately with the girls. She’d seemed to have a constant short fuse. Their noise and squabbles annoyed her in a way they hadn’t before.

  “It’s been tough for Evie,” I finally conceded.

  “Well, she’s going to have to harden the fuck up when she gets herself back here.” She pushed the coffee across to me.

  I’d forgotten how much Verity liked to swear. She was someone who actually enjoyed swearing, rolling the words off her tongue like favourite delicacies. It was one of the few things I liked about her. When she’d had a few drinks, her harder side tended to soften, and she’d swear like a sailor. Unfortunately, she rarely drank.

  “I’m pretty worn out, to be honest,” I told her. “I don’t really want to get into this.”

  Her expression adjusted. “Go have a rest. I’ll get dinner sorted and watch the girls.”

  “Appreciate it.” I headed upstairs and sank into my bed. I really did appreciate someone coming in here and making dinner and taking care of the girls. I just wished that person didn’t have to be Verity.

  I eyed Evie’s things around the room. Her hoodies and jeans still hung over the chair where she’d left them. A family photo montage was lying half done on top of a tallboy.