The One

by John Marrs

  ‘Jesus Christ, how much do you weigh?’ Christopher panted as he dragged Number Twenty across the hallway floor and towards the kitchen.

  He was a physically fit man, but he felt the sweat beading above his brow absorbing into his balaclava. Her profile pictures weren’t reflective of her true size. Even when he’d followed her around Top Shop, Zara and H&M one afternoon in a pre-strike reconnaissance mission, he assumed she had bulked up on clothing because of the unusually cold snap. But in the comfort of her own home, it turned out that she was a girl with an ample amount of flesh.

  The unusual layout of her two-storey flat meant the kitchen was located on the floor above the bedrooms, so Christopher adapted and changed his kill pattern. Once he’d let the billiard ball drop onto the vinyl flooring outside her bedroom and she’d come out to investigate, he enveloped the wire around her neck as usual. But when it became lost in her excess skin, he yanked it harder, knocking her off balance. Her weight thrust him into the wall, causing two framed paintings to fall. There he remained pinned behind her, using every ounce of strength to keep them both upright or risk ending up on the floor like he had with the thumb-biting Number Nine.

  Fortunately, Number Twenty lost consciousness within a minute, as he compressed both carotid arteries that carried blood from her heart to her brain. But it still took a further three minutes before she completely ceased to breathe.

  She’d drained Christopher of all his energy, leaving his biceps and forearms sapped and strained. After giving himself time to rest and regain his strength, he secured a plastic bag around her head and neck with rubber bands, took her wrists with his gloved hands and began to drag her along the corridor, past the lounge and up the stairs towards the kitchen. He paused a third of the way up to catch his breath before he finally laid her body out symmetrically in the kitchen.

  Christopher’s need for order dictated that each woman must be left in exactly the same position in exactly the same room. It hadn’t commenced like that, it just so happened that the first three girls’ homes all had kitchens with alcoves that provided the perfect place for him to lie in the shadows and wait. Number Four was a dining room murder and he considered leaving her there, right up until the moment he was about to exit. But he knew that for the rest of the night, then the following day and right through the rest of the killings, it’d irritate him that her alternative positioning might make her an exception. She wasn’t – he treated each of them with the same lack of regard.

  Once he’d removed the plastic bag that captured any stray drops of blood from her neck wound, he straightened her clothing so there were no rolls or bunches to indicate that she’d been dragged into position. He took his lint roller and applied it to her clothes to pick up any stray hairs that may have fallen from under his balaclava or from his eyebrows or eyelashes.

  Then, armed with his plastic spray bottle of luminol, he retraced his steps. When in contact with the iron in blood, the chemical emitted a blue glow allowing Christopher to locate trace elements of blood she might have shed. Finally, with his antiseptic wipes, he cleaned the whole area and replaced her paintings before going through his mental checklist one last time.

  With two Polaroids taken and carefully pocketed in an envelope, Christopher was ready to leave when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He realised he hadn’t smelled Number Twenty’s hair. It was another of his rituals regardless of who the girl was or what she looked like. He’d inhaled Amy’s hair that morning when she surprised him by joining him in the bathroom as he showered. He made his way behind her, massaging the shampoo into her scalp and watching as the suds poured between her shoulder blades and oozed down to the arch of her back. Then he crouched down and ran his tongue from her buttocks up to her neck. Nothing and nobody in the world smelled or tasted as satisfying as Amy. Was that why he hadn’t smelled Number Twenty?

  No, it’s not the only reason, thought Christopher. He knew there was something else about Number Twenty’s death that wasn’t sitting well with him. It was more than just the kill location or being unaware of her true size, it was that for the first time he hadn’t enjoyed any part of this murder. He used to savour the anticipation of returning a few days later to place photographs of his next killings on their chests and view their decomposition rates, but even that wasn’t holding the same appeal as it once had.

  His heart wasn’t in it any more; it was somewhere else and with someone else instead. Amy was changing him. But into what, he didn’t know.

  Chapter 63

  JADE

  Jade was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the number of people gathered in the garden for her wedding day and, judging, by the exhausted look on Kevin’s face, he was feeling the same.

  ‘Let’s get you back inside to chill out for a bit,’ she said to him, and the two made their way slowly back to his bedroom.

  More than a hundred of Kevin’s friends, relatives and neighbours turned up for the hastily organised reception, carrying food on trays and bottles of beer, which were stored in cooling barrels of ice. A barbecue roared to life near the garages where her new father-in-law Dan was flipping burgers and turning sausages.

  Jade could smell the meat cooking and listened to the chatter outside Kevin’s window.

  ‘Thank you,’ he muttered, his eyes closed and his breath shallow.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For marrying me. I know how hard you found it – and I know why.’

  Jade’s eyes opened wide and she tried not to panic. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Kevin, but had he guessed she was in love with his brother and not him? ‘What do you mean?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Knowing I’m your Match and that I’m not going to be here for much longer … you could have just turned your back on me and gone home. But you didn’t, so thank you.’

  Jade bit her lip and squeezed Kevin’s cold hand. She knew she had done the right thing and she waited until Kevin fell asleep before going back outside to meet the guests.

  It was clear that despite the remote location of the farm, Kevin and his family were well thought of by their neighbours. She was introduced to so many enthusiastic people who loved Kevin and had heard all about her. They were quick to shake her hand, to hug her or kiss her on the cheek, and offer their congratulations. But behind their smiles she knew they disguised an underlying feeling of pity for the young widow-to-be.

  Mark was the only person who’d failed to approach her, yet he was also the person she had wanted to talk to the most. They had both given each other a wide berth, and the further apart they were physically, the more frustrated she became with herself for what she was feeling for him.

  ‘Kevin is lucky to have you, love,’ began Dan, placing his arm around Jade’s shoulder. ‘No, let me correct myself – we are so lucky to have you. I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been in the last few weeks. And I know the next few aren’t going to be easy for any of us, but they are going to be easier for Kevin knowing that you’re with him.’

  Jade offered a mandatory smile and thanked Dan for his kind words, but inside she began to feel the immense weight of her actions pressing down on her shoulders and crushing her under its might. She made her excuses and worked her way through the marquee, away from everybody, where she could be alone.

  She reminded herself of how, only a month ago, meeting her Match in the flesh had seemed like a pipe dream. She’d made it a reality, but somewhere along the line it had gone awry. Now she desperately wanted to gain control of the runaway train she’d found herself on, but she had no idea how. Instead, she was clinging on for dear life.

  She approached the patio quietly, pleased to have some time to herself. But she wasn’t alone. Before she could see him in the dusk, she felt his presence. Immediately her pulse quickened and the fine hairs on her arms rose.

  ‘Hello,’ Jade began shyly.

  ‘Hi,’ Mark replied.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘I needed a time out.’
<
br />   ‘Same here.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘No, no,’ she said, a little too ardently.

  Jade sat in the furthest chair away from Mark, and looked out into the dusky distance. Each of them was unsure what to say next or how to break the tension.

  ‘It was a nice ceremony,’ Mark began. ‘I forgot what it was like to see Kevin smile that much.’

  ‘Yes, it was beautiful.’ She held the hand with her wedding ring finger behind her back out of view.

  ‘I know none of this is what you expected when you came over here, but Kevin and Mum and Dad are all glad you came.’

  ‘What about you?’ Jade asked, and held his gaze. ‘Are you glad I came?’

  ‘I’d better get back,’ Mark said abruptly, and got up from his seat.

  ‘Mark,’ Jade called, as he began to walk away. Her voice was impassioned. ‘What are we going to do?’

  He turned his head and stared at her with such longing in his eyes that she felt like weeping for the both of them.

  ‘We’re not going to do anything,’ he said softly, before slowly turning his back on her and walking away.

  Chapter 64

  NICK

  Nick was slumped on the floor of his budget hotel room in the city centre, propped up by the wardrobe and reeking of the mini-bar shots he’d single-handedly finished off. He ignored the no-smoking sign, and flicked the ash from his lit cigarette into the torn-off lid of the packet of Marlboro Lights.

  The clothes he’d worn over the last three days were heaped in a bundle in the corner. The television was turned on but muted.

  Since he and Sally had met almost four years ago, this had been the longest period they’d gone without talking. Even when she’d taken a detox holiday with her old university friends on the Thai coast, she’d still found a way to email him. But since Nick agreed to leave their flat by mutual consent, contact had come to a sudden halt.

  Alex stood over him, and passed him a bottle of Fosters from a six-pack he’d brought. He’d used the top of the chest of drawers to prise the lid off.

  ‘How are you feeling about it now?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nick replied. ‘A month ago I was planning my wedding and now I’m living in a hotel room. All I can think about is what I’ve done to Sally and how much I want to be with you. How did Mary react when you told her?’

  ‘She was pretty aggro … She kept telling me how much she’d given up to go to New Zealand with me and how I was breaking her heart and shitting on her from a great height. And she was bang on the money about everything. She slapped me round the face a couple of times too, told me I was a bastard and that she hated me. But I think deep down she knew it was pointless to fight. We’ve all read enough about DNA Matches to know once it’s there, it’s too powerful to beat.’

  ‘I think Sally feels the same, although in the end she was supportive. Doesn’t stop me feeling like crap, though.’

  ‘I hear you.’

  They clinked their bottles together.

  Alex moved to join Nick on the floor. Both men stared ahead of them at the Andy Warhol reproduction print on the wall. The artist’s impression of the tin of Campbell’s soup made Nick’s empty stomach rumble.

  ‘There’s something we should probably discuss,’ Alex began carefully.

  ‘There’s probably a lot we need to discuss.’

  ‘Do you want to go first?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Neither do I, but I will,’ Alex said. ‘You and I know that at the moment, this … whatever it is …’

  ‘… relationship. Of sorts.’

  ‘That this … relationship of sorts … has a time limit. I’m booked to fly home a couple of months from now and, until my old man passes on, I don’t know when I’m coming back. If I come back at all.’

  This wasn’t news to Nick but, regardless, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of his sails.

  ‘And if I did come back,’ Alex continued, ‘or if you came to see me, then that brings me to our next dilemma. Is it enough for us to just be together like we are now, or are we prepared to take it a step further?’

  ‘You mean physically?’

  ‘I guess that’s what I’m saying.’ Alex’s face reddened and an awkward silence hung between them.

  ‘Is that what you want?’ Nick asked. ‘Don’t we have to be, like, sexually attracted to each other?’

  ‘That’s how it usually works, yes.’

  ‘And … are you?’

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you – I don’t know one way or the other, mate. This is unchartered territory for me, well, both of us. I mean, I like sex, well, to be honest, I bloody love sex and I reckon it’s a huge part of a relationship. And if you and I aren’t doing that, then can we actually be together? Is what we have between us now enough for sex not to matter? Are we supposed to live like monks for the rest of our lives or do we get our rocks off somewhere else with women?’

  ‘That’s a lot of questions.’

  ‘Imagine what it’s like being in my head right now.’

  ‘I have a fair idea,’ Nick said. ‘What if we do, you know, try … it … and one of us finds we enjoy it but the other doesn’t? Then what happens?’

  Alex rubbed his eyes, turned his head and shrugged. ‘This is so screwed up.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  Alex let out a long breath then ran his hands through his hair. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not going to “say that again”. We’ve done enough talking to last us a lifetime.’

  Nick watched as Alex tilted his head and slowly moved towards him. He closed his eyes and reciprocated.

  Alex’s lips were much softer and warmer than Nick had imagined a man’s to be, but his stubble was more prickly. Instinctively Nick moved his hand up to Alex’s face as they continued to kiss silently. He felt Alex’s hand on his thigh and pushed himself closer until their chests touched, connecting and slotting together like they’d been designed to do.

  And in that moment, as they felt each other’s hearts racing, yet beating at exactly the same speed, they felt as if they were two halves of a whole.

  Chapter 65

  ELLIE

  Tim appeared puzzled at first when Ellie had suggested they kept their engagement under wraps for the time being.

  ‘Please don’t think it’s because I don’t want people to know,’ she was at pains to point out, ‘but believe me, when the creator of Match Your DNA announces she’s found her own Match, things are going to get pretty crazy for the man involved.’

  ‘Like, how crazy?’ Tim asked. His naivety made her want to protect him all the more.

  ‘The press are going to try to find out everything there is to know about you. They’ll track down your ex-girlfriends and one-night stands.’

  ‘As long as they say I have a big cock and I can go like a steam train, I don’t care.’

  ‘I’m being serious, Tim! They’ll write about your late mum, they’ll find your dad – if he’s still alive – and they’ll offer money to anyone who ever knew you in the hopes of some scandal. Trust me, I’m not exaggerating. I’ve been through this before and it’s not pleasant.’

  ‘Shit,’ Tim said and rubbed his eyes. ‘Will they find that porn film I did when I was at college?’

  ‘What porn film?’ Ellie asked, a look of dismay spreading across her face.

  He laughed. ‘You know, for an intelligent woman you can be extremely gullible.’

  She gave a sigh of relief and thumped his arm.

  ‘Don’t worry, the only skeletons in my closet belong to the mice.’

  When she’d informed Andrei, he had nearly broken into a smile. And when she’d told her family that they would be gaining a third son-in-law, she’d had to ask them to promise not to tell anyone outside their circle.

  ‘I thought Tim would be more old-fashioned than that,’ her sister Maggie had said.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I thought h
e’d ask for Dad’s permission to marry you first.’

  ‘He did, when we came up at Christmas.’

  ‘That’s not what Dad said. It’s not a big deal or anything, we were just a bit disappointed.’

  ‘I think he’s getting confused,’ Ellie said. Tim has no reason to lie, she told herself.

  To date, she had successfully shielded her fiancé from the unwanted gaze of the paparazzi by withdrawing from public life. On their rare excursions, they entered restaurants or theatres at different times and through different doors. She enjoyed having Tim all to herself and was pleasantly surprised the media hadn’t discovered their relationship, especially after taking him to her work’s Christmas party.

  Ellie adored the engagement ring Tim had slipped on her finger, an unobtrusive diamond set upon a white gold band. She assumed it hadn’t cost the earth but it meant more to her than any of the jewels she kept in the safety deposit box at her bank. At work and in public, she kept Tim’s ring on a gold chain around her neck, buried under a blouse. Every now and again, she’d catch herself playing with it. And each night, as soon as she got back in her car on her way home, she’d slip it on to her finger and examine it from all angles.

  On one rare evening not spent in each other’s company, Ellie arrived back at her London home and immediately it felt empty without Tim. They’d FaceTimed before he went to play his five-a-side game of football and he’d scoffed as she flipped the phone to show him the mountain of paperwork she had to get through.

  But before she set about tackling it, she heated up the meal her housekeeper left for her in the oven and sat in the kitchen, listening to a Spotify playlist of 1990s’ indie bands Tim had made for her. The engagement book he’d created sat on the counter top. She couldn’t stop herself from re-reading it.

  ‘Number forty-two: I love the way we shared the same haircut when we were kids,’ she read and took another look at the pictures on the page. On the left-hand side was a school photograph he’d borrowed from her mum, of her as a seven-year-old and when she sported an unfortunate pudding-bowl style. And on the right was Tim with an almost identical haircut. He looked adorable in his school uniform.