In a way I was happy. I hadn’t been right since Mammy had died. But maybe now, with this …
There was a sudden impact. I jolted forward, cracking my head against the windscreen.
There was no pain.
There was nothing.
Everything went white, quiet and peaceful.
And then all was still.
59.
Rachel: day twenty-six, 9 a.m.
He was inside the hall before I knew what to do with myself, and when I tried to click out of the clip I’d been watching, I inadvertently clicked ‘play’.
As he walked into the living room the words ‘Suck it, bitch,’ rang out loud and clear. Donnagh dropped the bag he was carrying onto the carpet and stared at me. ‘What’s that you’re watching, Rachel?’ he said, though he must have recognized his own voice.
I couldn’t say anything. I’d been rendered mute.
Donnagh made to move towards the computer, but I clamped it shut and hugged it to my chest.
‘I asked you what you had there.’
I was trembling as Donnagh moved closer, more threatening. ‘Tell me,’ he said, clear and terrifying. ‘Tell me what you’ve got here, Rachel.’
‘It was you.’ I couldn’t keep my anger at bay any longer. ‘Not Artie or Tom or some phantom third person …’
‘Me what?’
‘You who caused Evie to crash.’
He laughed, but in the quiet of the flat it sounded hollow. ‘I didn’t make your sister do anything.’
‘You tried to rape her,’ I said, loud and clear. ‘I’ve seen it. You were recorded on camera.’
Donnagh flinched and his eyes seemed to darken. ‘What?’ he muttered, his voice wavering a little.
I wanted to scream at him, tell him he could knock off the innocent act, but this time I hung back – wary now.
‘Just give me that computer and we’ll say no more about this.’ He was stretching his hands towards me, wearing a fake smile, as if to say, ‘Let’s put all this silly nonsense behind us.’
‘No,’ I said, still clutching the computer firmly against me, my eyes darting as I looked for an escape route.
‘Just give me the fucking computer,’ he repeated, moving towards me, forcing me back against the wall.
Donnagh was in my face now, speckles of spit hitting my cheeks.
‘I don’t know what you think you have on me, but let me reassure you, I had nothing to do with your sister’s crash. She was the one concealing her identity, the one who stole my car.’
I remained mute, too scared to retaliate. I’d left it too long to escape – Donnagh had quite literally backed me into a corner and there was nowhere left to run. He wasn’t touching me – yet – but I could feel his strength pulsating through his shirt, his hands just inches away, ready to grab me. To hurt me.
He moved his face closer now, ran a finger slowly down my cheek. As he did so, I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin. ‘You’re so beautiful, do you know that?’ he whispered.
I was rigid – the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.
‘I could have loved you.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, come on, Rachel, I’ve seen the way you look at me. That first night on the balcony when you couldn’t take your eyes off me, then fucking your husband to make me jealous.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Knock it off, Rachel, of course you do. Why else do you think I’ve stayed here so long?’ He half smiled at me. ‘Because I knew you wanted me. And I wanted you too … wanted to fuck you …’
A tremor of horror ran down my spine. ‘But you didn’t, did you?’ I taunted, with more force than was necessarily wise.
He continued to cast his creepy little smile at me.
‘And what about Evie?’ I spat. ‘Wouldn’t she have ruined everything if she’d woken up?’
‘I thought she’d die,’ Donnagh said. ‘I still do.’
I looked into his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was saying, until it hit me with a terrifying thunk. He was crazy. He was a fucking psychopath. ‘You said you loved her.’ I forced myself to breathe, to keep looking at him.
‘Yeah, right.’ He snorted, the contempt audible. ‘Of course I didn’t love her. She was weak, unstable. You, on the other hand …’ He traced a delicate line along my neck. ‘Come away with me,’ he murmured, so low I barely heard him.
‘What?’
‘Me and you. We could go away together – to Chicago, maybe. Or somewhere even further away.’ His eyes were glistening like diamonds and, though we were still not touching, I knew he had me pinned. My back was now completely flush with the wall.
‘Of course,’ I said, forcing myself not to shake. ‘We could go tonight. Leave England. Escape everything.’
He smiled at me. ‘Somewhere we could be together. Properly.’
Maybe I could talk myself out of this, convince him I was desperately in love with him too.
‘But first you must give me that computer.’
I felt my body sag. Donnagh was taking the piss, playing me. Of course he didn’t love me: he just wanted to get the laptop. He knew exactly what it contained and that he needed to destroy it. He had his priorities straight.
I reacted swiftly, ducking under one of his arms, hoping to make a break for it across the living room and into the hall – towards freedom.
But he caught me – as one would a wayward toddler – forcing me back. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Donnagh, please.’ He was pinning one of my arms against the wall now; and I was clinging to the laptop with the other.
‘Just give it to me, Rachel!’ he shouted.
Out of nowhere, I felt something cold against my skin, and when I looked down I saw what it was. A knife: the one I’d used ages ago to cut open Evie’s letters. He must have grabbed it off the countertop when I hadn’t been looking.
‘Rachel,’ he said, pointing the tip of the blade to my neck. ‘Make things easy on yourself and give me the computer.’ His voice was level, but I could see he was sweating – a drop landed on my left arm.
I stood there, knife against my artery – and it was like time stopped. Memories flashed in front of me: getting the call from Ainsworth; seeing Evie in hospital all wired up; running into Donnagh that first time. My gut had screamed that he was bad, but I had chosen to ignore it.
‘Rachel, hand me the computer.’
I did so, no longer able to fight him.
‘It’s video footage, you say. Who gave it to you?
I kept my mouth closed, but Donnagh pressed the tip of the knife so hard against me that I felt it pierce the skin. ‘One of Evie’s colleagues,’ I muttered.
‘His name?’
I shook my head, but Donnagh pressed the knife hard against me again.
‘Tom. I don’t know his second name.’
‘Where does he live?’
I shook my head, but eventually Donnagh wangled this out of me too.
For a moment, there was complete silence, and then slowly – oh, so slowly – Donnagh removed the knife from my throat.
For a split second nothing happened. It was as if time stood still. I found myself gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes, taking in his beauty. He was hypnotic, if you let him be. But I wasn’t going to let him. With that, I lunged at his face, sticking my fingers deep into his eyes, then made a desperate grab for the computer.
Donnagh staggered to one side, as I made a last dash for the door. But I knew he was gaining on me. A sensation from behind. After that, all I remember is pain and tumbling – a sea of blackness. Then nothing more.
I recall nothing about the next few hours. But here’s what I know to be true. Artie, good as his word, came round to Evie’s flat to explain everything about the emails. On finding the door open, he had come in and found me unconscious from the fall, blood dripping from my head. He’d called an ambulance and the police but because there were no witnesse
s it looked as if I’d had an accident. Artie repeatedly told them that Donnagh Flood should be sought out and questioned, but nobody could track him down. According to his PA, he was on a flight from Chicago to the UK, and his phone was ringing out.
Finally, after a number of hours, I regained consciousness. Artie was beside me, pale and unshaven. ‘Oh, thank Christ, Rachel. You’re awake. We’ve all been so worried about you.’
‘Evie …’
‘What about her?’
‘You must protect her,’ I whispered, but my voice was so faint I wasn’t sure he heard me.
At that moment, a familiar figure entered the room. Dr Bartlett. ‘Rachel Darcy, what the heck have you done to yourself?’
‘Evie,’ I whispered again. They needed to get to Evie. They needed to save her.
But Dr Bartlett was ignoring me, her eyes dancing. ‘Your own coma must have unlocked your sister’s,’ she said, smiling widely.
‘What?’ I mumbled.
‘Rachel, my dear, Eve is finally showing signs of waking up.’
‘No!’ I screamed. This time the word was definitely audible. ‘Protect her. You must protect her.’ Then I leaned over the side of my bed and was sick.
60.
Evie
I was awake – for the first time in four weeks, according to the nurses – and someone was leaning over the side of my bed, staring at me.
Him.
‘Hello, Eveline,’ he said, bending down, so I could feel his breath on my face. ‘How are you feeling?’
I tried to respond but I couldn’t – my voice wasn’t working yet: all that came out was a moan.
‘Brilliant to see you back in the land of the living. I just got a call to say you had woken up. They rang me when they couldn’t get through to your sister.’
I didn’t reply. All I felt was terror. What had he done to Rachel?
He walked away from me and proceeded to lock the door. ‘I’ve put the “Do Not Enter” sign up,’ he said, ‘so we shouldn’t be disturbed. In any case, I don’t think anybody saw me come in here – it’s still so early, isn’t it?’
I felt my muscles sag. What was he going to do? Rape me? Kill me? It wasn’t as if I could put up a fight.
‘Donnagh,’ I tried to say – but all that came out was another croak.
‘Sorry, Eveline?’ Donnagh said. ‘Were you trying to say something?’
‘Please …’ Again the sound was unintelligible.
He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. ‘Are you pleading with me? Please don’t hurt you? Don’t put you back into a coma? What exactly do you think I’m going to do to you? What do you think I’m capable of?’
I was trembling. I knew perfectly well what he was capable of.
Donnagh pulled up a chair and took my hand. I tried to shake it away but I was too weak.
He didn’t say anything and I felt myself hold my breath. All he needed to do was take a pillow and hold it over my face for about thirty seconds. I was so tired I wouldn’t struggle, and he would be long gone before the doctors and nurses realized anything was wrong with me. It would be so easy. Such a simple plan.
‘You remind me of my mother,’ he said finally, and I turned my eyes towards him a fraction.
‘She looked a bit like you. Before you had all the surgery. Pretty eyes. A big nose.’
He was smiling at me, but it was not affectionate. Deranged, more like.
‘You know what my abiding memory of her is?’
His eyes found mine. I dropped my gaze.
‘Eveline, look at me,’ he said sharply, and slowly I did.
‘Do you know what my abiding memory of my mother is?’ he repeated.
I shook my head, or tried to.
‘My father had come home from the pub, drunk as usual, and his dinner was cold. He shouted at my mother, said she was a stupid cow. She didn’t contradict him, just whimpered a bit. Said she’d cook him something else.’
He was staring at me now – his eyes luminous.
‘He dragged her away from the table by the hair. Grabbed one of her arms and pulled it behind her back. She screamed, told him she was sorry, but he kept pulling. I heard the bone snap. He broke her arm, Eveline.’ He mimed snapping a twig. ‘Just like that.’
I could feel my breath coming fast and hot now. What was he saying? That he was going to break me like a twig too?
‘She was so weak,’ he said, his eyes now enormous. ‘And so were you.’
He wiped one eye with a sleeve. ‘Why couldn’t you have told me at school to fuck off? To leave you alone? Instead you just stood there and took it, like an abused dog. You made me do it, Eveline. You practically begged me to.’
I watched him, just inches away from me, and the terror was replaced by something else: disbelief.
Was he honestly saying it was my fault he’d become a rapist? Because I hadn’t stood up to him when we were teenagers?
The colossal, unbelievable cheek of the man.
‘Fuck you,’ I said, and, to my total shock, those two words came out pretty clearly.
Donnagh’s eyes flickered, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. ‘Say that again, Eveline.’
I tried a second time, but this time I wasn’t quite so successful.
Donnagh laughed, then got up and stood over me.
This was it. I knew it. I’d tried everything – running away from him, stealing his car – but finally Donnagh Flood had cornered me. This time there was no fake identity to hide behind. No fast-moving Porsche. I didn’t feel fear, just sadness. I’d had so many great people in my life: Rachel, Artie, Janet. But I hadn’t realized it.
I saw Donnagh pick something up – a roll of something. I took a deep breath. Waited for the inevitable.
‘It won’t hurt, not for very long anyway. And the good news, for me anyway, is that suffocation is very difficult to prove, especially for someone with a fail-safe alibi …’
He smiled. ‘Remember Gemma? Right at this very minute I’m enjoying breakfast at her house. Or, at least, that’s what she’s going to tell the police.’
With that he revealed the object he’d been holding earlier: a roll of masking tape.
‘Just to make sure no fibres from the pillow are found in your mouth. I want to make it look like you slipped into cardiac arrest. Don’t worry, Eveline, I’ve done my homework, planned this all along. It was just finding the opportunity that was the hard bit.’
He laughed. ‘Funny how the moment you wake up, the doctors and nurses are nowhere to be seen. Where have they gone to, I wonder?’ He pulled some of the masking tape away from the roll, then used a penknife to chop it. It made a horrible screeching sound.
Next he placed the tape over my mouth, gagging me. I tried to resist but it was so hard. Was this how it was going to end? After I had come so far and had been through so much?
‘Nearly there.’ He was holding a pillow over me now.
‘Goodbye, Eveline,’ he said, forcing it over my mouth. ‘You fought a brave fight but you could never beat me. I warned you about that.’
Panic was taking over now, and I was struggling to stay conscious. Images swirled into my brain of Rachel, of Artie, of Mammy. Maybe things weren’t so bad – maybe I’d get to see her again.
The thought soothed me.
The thought of Mammy.
But my reverie was interrupted by a loud bang.
For a second, I thought I’d been shot but then I felt the pressure of the pillow ease, and realized that Donnagh was no longer pressing it down.
Another loud bang followed, and next thing I knew there were voices in the room, people swarming all over me, removing the masking tape, telling me I was going to be okay.
‘Donnagh Flood, you are under arrest. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Two policemen had grabbed Donnagh’s arms and wer
e restraining him.
Donnagh didn’t put up a fight. I watched as they handcuffed him, then led him from my room.
Before he left, he stopped and looked back at me.
I wanted to look away but I held his gaze.
The police officer tugged on his handcuffs, but Donnagh didn’t move a muscle.
‘It’s like I told you that day in the car,’ he said, a weird look on his face. ‘Most people want to get caught.’ He paused, staring at me. ‘It’s just a matter of when.’
61.
Rachel: day twenty-six, 5 p.m.
Later, one of the policemen told me everything. How Donnagh had got past the nurse on duty, an agency temp, who had been skiving off when she should have been on the desk. How he’d attempted to suffocate Evie.
‘He what?’ I spluttered.
‘But we managed to apprehend him before he was able to carry out his plan. You can thank Dr Elizabeth Bartlett for that – she was the one who alerted us after the warning you gave her.’
‘And is Evie okay? He didn’t –’
‘Your sister is unharmed. She will make a full recovery.’
A little later, when I was feeling strong enough to walk, I made my way into my sister’s room. She appeared to be awake, staring up at the ceiling.
‘Evie!’ I shuffled over to her and kissed her a multitude of times. ‘Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?’
She nodded, tears flowing down her cheeks, then attempted to say something, but I couldn’t understand her. She seemed to be trying to point at me.
‘Me?’ I said, finally twigging what she was getting at. ‘You’re wondering how I am? Oh, I’m fine. Just a flesh wound.’ This was basically true: when I’d fallen, my forehead had hit the door frame in the hall, meaning there’d been a lot of blood. But it was all superficial. I was going to be fine.
For a while we just sat there holding hands. Evie was still lapsing in and out of consciousness, but eventually she made a sound I thought I could identify: ‘Sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’
She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sisters and Lies Page 29