‘By good job, you mean I didn’t solve it and everyone was killed?’ I spit out.
‘Yes, you were as useless as I had expected you to be.’
The game was rigged. I want to shout it from the rooftops, but I bite back my retort. This is meant to be an interview, not a discussion. I clear my throat; there’s one question that’s still bugging me.
‘You chose me because of Emily. What about the other Islanders, how did you find them?’
At this Beth gives me her most sinister smile yet. ‘Interestingly enough, they found me. Or more accurately, their victims did.’
Chapter Fifty-Four
JustDeserts.co.uk – the blog that keeps me sane
Revenge isn’t a dish to be served. Unless that dish in question is hard enough to crack open a skull…
ARCHIVED POST, originally posted five years ago
I am a person who refuses to ‘let it go’ or ‘move on’ or ‘heal’. A person who will not forget the wrongs I’ve been done and will spend every waking moment of my life dreaming of the opportunity to get my own back.
They say don’t get mad, get even. But I am mad, and I don’t want to get even. ‘Even’ is too kind; I won’t rest until they’re in the negative, until their loss is my gain.
This is the reason for my blog… revenge on all the bullshit forced on me by this world… revenge for all my people that have endured the failures of our society.
Revenge is for when the punishment doesn’t meet the crime.
Did you know that in this country only the worst of crimes are actually punished? Our prison system is on its knees and so if the crime isn’t ‘too bad’, criminals are released with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.
THIS IS WRONG. But what’s the solution?
The dictionary meaning of ‘revenge’ is ‘to inflict hurt or harm on someone for an injury or wrong done to oneself or others’. It is such a dirty word, but the great philosopher Francis Bacon actually called revenge ‘wild justice’ that ‘put the law out of office’. I think he’s right and wrong. I think revenge is justice even if it is a bit wild. But I don’t think revenge puts the law out of office; I think the law put itself out of office, meaning we need revenge. When our justice system fails us (and boy, it does), isn’t it only right that we step in? Isn’t it only fair that we do something, even the score? I think we should exact punishment where others have failed.
But I’m interested in what you think. Which side of revenge do you fall on?
Comments
@KatyBakes: This was an appalling thing to read. I came here thinking this would be a nice baking blog and instead I read this. You’re sick. You need help. And change the name of your blog, you’re misleading readers.
@JustDeserts: @KatyBakes, you should learn how to spell. You are a complete and utter idiot.
@Slasha: Revenge is natural. Humans aren’t the only species that do it, you know. I read once that camels, elephants and lions seek revenge too. Although in the animal kingdom, chimpanzees are the most sophisticated at it.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Kimberley
Monday 4th August, 00:53
I stare at Beth. The fear and anger that have risen in me are crowded out by confusion. I acknowledge that it would have been impossible for her to have done this alone but her turn of phrase is a strange one. Like she’s a magnet for revenge-ridden souls.
‘The Islanders’ victims found you,’ I repeat. ‘How?’
‘Through my blog,’ she replies. ‘Just Deserts.’
‘Just Deserts? What are you talking about?’
‘When Emily died, I started a blog. I called it Just Deserts, you know like the expression: to get one’s just deserts. I know, not particularly imaginative,’ she says, voicing something I’m not even thinking about. When I don’t say anything, she carries on. ‘I had absolutely zero expectations for it and to be honest, I can’t even remember the spark that drove me to start it in the first place. All I was was rage and I needed a place, a public place, to vent my fury about how the failings of Police Officer A had killed my sister.’ I flinch at the memory of how the papers reported the story. ‘But what started as nothing more than a repository for the hate I had for you and for the world soon become the thing that fuelled me. The thing that gave me a purpose when I had thought I would never have purpose again.’ Beth is on a roll, telling me everything, and I hold my body still so as not to disturb her. Everything she is telling me will clear my name and I don’t want her to stop. ‘In only a couple of months and without any prompting or conscious effort on my part, my blog grew and gained a modest selection of followers. You wouldn’t believe my surprise when one day I saw that my posts had likes and comments. And, even better, the majority of the comments weren’t telling me I was evil or should seek professional help. These comments were in my favour; these people were on my side. After a while, I even started to receive direct messages from people who had suffered the wrongs like I had, who had been let down by a justice system that they were forced to pay for.
‘I was tentative to reply at first but it soon became clear to me that I couldn’t ignore them; they needed me. Soon, my blog became a community and I connected with these people in a way far better than I connected with anyone in the real world. They became my allies and as my anger showed no sign of burning out and I retreated further from the world outside, these people became my friends. And why not? They understood me more than anyone in the real world.
‘By day, I worked hard at a production company in a job that I used to love but which had soured; by night, I typed furiously at my computer, replying to the comments and messages my blog received.
‘A better person than me might have replied with messages of peace, love and comfort in order to help these people move past their pain and allow them to get on with their lives. I had always thought of myself as a sensible, reasonable person, but my sister’s murder had flipped a switch in my head. So, when a mother contacted me about how a DJ named Valentina Novak had supplied her son with drugs that killed him or how Sophia Dance, the upstart wannabe, had ruined a family with her nosiness, I found that I didn’t have it in me to tell them to accept this as part of a bigger plan. No, I couldn’t do that to my followers or those who had lost their lives. How could I preach peace when I would never feel peace again? For me there was only anger and discontent. So I acted in the only way I knew how: I used my messages to stoke the fires of revenge in myself and others.’
‘So the victims of the other Islanders are involved in this?’
‘Urgh, keep up, Kimberley,’ scoffs Beth. ‘But let me tell you, I had my pick of options. You wouldn’t believe how many people in the UK alone want revenge. People in this country are really dedicated to justice.’
The admiration in Beth’s voice makes me feel sick.
‘If revenge is so popular, how did you pick the successful candidates for your scheme, then?’
‘First things first, they had to be a viable option for the show. They needed to be young and relatively attractive, otherwise the public wouldn’t be as interested to watch. This group were, in my opinion, also more likely to watch the show and, therefore, be tempted to go on it. And secondly, perhaps more importantly, my associates, be they the actual victims or relatives of the victims, needed to be helpful to me in some way.’
‘What do you mean, “helpful”?’ I ask.
‘The parents of Mo Khan’s victim, for example, own a villa rental company with houses across Europe. One of the bookings was put on the “books” but wasn’t the real location so the channel thought we were in one villa when we were actually in another one, miles away and much more hidden. Another clue for the police, of course, but I knew I’d never be able to pull it off without any traces to me. Anyway, the villa we all went to was regularly used by the mafia for their summer holidays, meaning it had the necessary security features. Then there is the victim of Jack Peaks; she is a very technically savvy woman. She knew how to control the
outdoor television and ensure that the Just Deserts channel was able to keep showing the live feed. The victim of Sophia Dance played the part of our Judge and, along with myself, financially contributed to this scheme. And the mother of Valentina Novak’s victim is a doctor so she helped me…’ Beth pauses and bites her lip. ‘How do I put this? Understand the more logistical side of murder as well as having good access to drugs and blood. The doctor actually came to the villa with us; she came here a couple of months ago under the pretence of volunteering at a hospital. This is where she stole the blood needed for my disguise and she helped me make it look believable enough to fool you.’
A knot tightens in my stomach. It’s amazing what people can achieve when they have the drive to.
‘And Carly’s victim was Daniel,’ I say. ‘Who I assume was helpful because he knew how to work a camera?’ Beth nods.
‘Precisely, and it was helpful to have someone nearby to help me. Carly, who, by the way, entrapped men by attracting them over for a drink, drugging them and taking compromising photographs of them and then blackmailing them for money, had forced Daniel’s father to flee the country and ruined his reputation. It was always our agreement that he could be the one to kill her. Sadly, he didn’t factor in that she might be armed.’
I used to earn money in a way I’m not proud of; I remember Carly’s words now.
‘How did you get off the island?’
‘When the police arrived, we fled out the back door where Carly was. I’d arranged for the driver who ferried you across to come back.’
‘At what point did it become this, Beth? At what point did you decide that mass murder was the only way you could seek revenge?’
‘Oh, Kimberley, I’ve been thinking about killing you for a very, very long time. The others were just a bit of fun really. I wanted to expose you for what the police in this country really are: third-rate investigators who are more of a danger to the public than a help.’
‘How could I have shown anything different when the game was rigged?’ My voice breaks its neutrality now and I realise I’m shouting.
‘The game is always rigged, Kimberley,’ Beth shouts back at me, jabbing the gun as she does so. ‘Rigged in favour of the guilty. And I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was rigged. I was there, I was present, waiting for you to discover who I really was. I’d have been mightily impressed if you’d done it but you didn’t.’
I open my mouth to ask another question, but Beth cuts me off.
‘No, my question now; you owe me a real answer.’
‘I don’t owe you anything,’ I say, my jaw tightening. ‘You took enough from me in the villa.’
‘Oh, but you do, you know you do, because you…’ Beth pauses; her face is white with anger, her teeth are bared. I’m about to feel her bite as well as her bark. My muscles tense and I prepare myself for what Beth is about to say. I know with all my being that it will involve Emily. ‘You killed my sister,’ explodes Beth.
My chest tightens so hard and so sharply that it feels as if I’m having a heart attack; my hands wrap around the seat of the chair and I squeeze, as if trying to control the power of the guilt that washes over me like a tidal wave.
For years, I’ve told myself over and over again that it was my fault that Emily Cadman died, that I might as well have killed Emily myself. Hearing Beth say it, hearing her confirm it, makes it feel truer than it has ever felt.
‘So, tell me, why didn’t you kill yourself? You’d been disgraced in front of the world and your failures meant you should have felt you were responsible for the deaths of five people, so why didn’t you do it?’
I pause, thinking back to Emily and that horrible time in my life. The errors I made and the guilt I carried. Why didn’t I do it? The answer comes to me like an epiphany. And despite the pain and guilt that I carry, I know the answer. It is an answer that Beth won’t like.
‘I didn’t do it, Beth, I didn’t kill myself, because I realised that one mistake doesn’t define me.’
As the words come out of my mouth, I can see on her face they’re not what Beth wants to hear. Something flashes in her eyes. She gets to her feet and walks so she’s standing to my right. She leans down and whispers in my ear.
‘You’re wrong about that. One mistake does define you. Just like your mistake defined me. My life will forever be defined by the fact that my sister was murdered. I am changed. You changed me.’
It’s as if she’s pouring out her hatred onto me. The grief within her has curdled over the years, morphed into something unpalatable and dangerous.
Beth’s hand raises the gun and points it at my head. I stiffen. My pulse pounds in my ears, the sound roaring in my head. But I won’t grovel. I won’t beg for forgiveness. There’s life in me yet.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘I am not responsible for what you’ve become. And the mistakes you have made will haunt you forever.’
I grip the chair and, in one swift movement, swing it from under me. The gun flies from Beth’s hand and she screeches. I go to hit her again but she’s too quick; she scrambles after the gun. I dart from the living room and dive towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Bang.
A gunshot blows the mechanism straight off the door and it swings open. I retreat further into the room, my back to the window. Beth stands in the doorway. Gun held aloft.
Step by step, I edge away from her. I’m backed into a corner; there’s no way out. I feel my knees knock together as they tremble.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It’s over.
There’s a scream.
Then a shot.
White-hot pain sears my arm as the bullet brushes it.
The window behind me shatters.
Beth’s auburn hair flashes like a firebrand as she falls.
The pain and force of the shot makes me stumble backwards. My foot catches on the leg of Emily’s dressing table and I topple over. The edges of my vision blur.
My fingers squeeze the top of my arm, squelching against my moist top. Blood is seeping from my wound. The blurred edges of my vision close in, fuzzing it more and more.
Paramedic and police sirens blare.
There are voices calling to me, calling my name, but they sound increasingly further away.
I don’t fight the hands that grab me; I’m about to close my eyes and give in to the pain.
But before I do, the face of my old friend Zoe Pearce swims in front of me.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Spyland.co.uk – News, Scandals and all the latest Gossip from your favourite celebrities
BREAKING NEWS: How did Just Deserts get their Just Deserts?
Posted on Tuesday 5th August
SpyLand have just found out that Beth Cadman was arrested yesterday for the murders of Jack Peaks, Sophia Dance, Valentina Novak and Mo Khan. She is also charged with conspiracy to commit murder for the role she played in the murder of Carly Chu. Carly, whose death was not shown as part of the livestream, is now thought to have been killed by Daniel Oni. Daniel himself, we have heard, died from a stab wound inflicted by Carly Chu in self-defence.
The woman we knew as Rosalind Jenkins was actually Beth Cadman, sister of the murdered Emily Cadman. Beth, this year’s producer of reality television show LoveWrecked, was the ringleader of a plot to lure victims to the villa and kill them in a plot centred on revenge and retribution. Her victims were sourced through her co-conspirators who connected with her on the blog, Just Deserts, where she vented her rage over her sister’s murder at the hands of her former colleague. We believe the police are still focused on hunting down her co-conspirators, but we don’t think it will be long until they too face justice.
This finally answers the question of why LoveWrecked took a hiatus! Beth Cadman, creator of the show as well as producer, was too busy plotting this to think about making money.
The LoveWrecked management team are likely to be prosecuted for failing to properly protect the contestants on their show and wer
e ordered to give £6 million in compensation to the families of the show’s victims.
But despite this, little is still known about what contributed to Beth and the group’s arrests and the police are keeping a tight lid on it.
SpyLand don’t like being kept in the dark, though, do we? We are appealing for any information about how Beth was caught. Heck, we’re even offering a reward of £1,000 for anyone who can share more information. Do you know what led to their arrest? If so, email us at [email protected] and put us ALL out of our misery.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Kimberley
Wednesday 6th August, 9:33
I wince as I push myself into a sitting position; the wound I sustained during my fight with Beth Cadman three days ago is still tender. The bullet from Beth’s gun grazed the side of my arm but I know it could have been much worse had Zoe not shown up and pushed Beth to the ground. Zoe and I haven’t spoken properly since I arrived at the hospital so I have no idea how she knew where I was but I know from the note accompanying the large bunch of flowers she sent me that when I’m allowed out, she will come and collect me and explain everything. All being well, that should be today.
The Islanders Page 24