Chapter 37 Kate

37 KATE

NOW

“How did you sleep?” Camilla asks. It’s just after nine in the morning, and they’re in the kitchen of Kate’s villa as she makes a pot of tea.

“Not great,” Kate says. “You?”

Camilla sighs. “Shit.”

“Hello?” a voice calls. “Anyone in?”

Darcy’s at the door, peering around it.

Camilla looks confused. “I closed that door, by the way.”

“It’s dodgy,” Kate says. “They’re meant to have fixed it.”

Darcy steps into the kitchen, looking the others over. Kate sees that her eyes are puffy from crying, and her anger subsides.

“You all right?” Camilla asks after a long silence. Her arms are folded, and it’s clear that she still hasn’t forgiven Darcy for bringing them all here under false pretenses. But then, Darcy has offered to arrange a transfer to another resort. They could all go home, or try to make the most of their time here. Impossible , Kate thinks. Not even paradise is enjoyable after what Adrian has told them.

They take their tea through to the dining table, the mood strained. Kate has had Rafi bring a platter of fruit, croissants, and rolls for them to share, along with fresh juice and a jug of ice water filled with lemon slices, but it all sits untouched.

“So, then,” Camilla says, “what do we all think?”

“I think we should go straight to the police,” Kate says. “Let them deal with it.”

Darcy nods. “That’s one option.”

“The local police won’t do anything,” Camilla says dismissively. “They don’t have the authority. You know how it’ll go. And even if we phone the police in the UK, there’s no way they’re going to fly out here on such scant evidence.”

“So, what, then?” Darcy says. “Do we just pretend he’s not who Adrian says he is?”

Camilla shakes her head. “God, no. After twenty-two years? After that shitshow they called an investigation?” She raises a hand to her mouth, emotion taking her by surprise. “No,” she says, recovering. “I want to look him in the eye and ask him if he killed my brother.”

“I want to do the same for Elijah,” Darcy says sadly.

“So we just knock on the door of his honeymoon suite and say, ‘Hello, can you tell us if you murdered six people, please?’?” Kate says.

There’s a long silence.

“We kidnap him,” Camilla says. “That’s what we do.”

Kate laughs, but then realizes Camilla’s serious.

“Kidnap him?”

Camilla nods grimly. “There’s three of us,” she says. “We can do it. Force him to tell us everything he knows.”

“You’re not serious,” Kate says.

“Record it,” Darcy tells Camilla, her eyes narrowed. “Send it to the police.”

“Force him how?” Kate says, glancing from Darcy to Camilla. “The man could take on Mike Tyson with one arm tied behind his back.”

“We protect ourselves,” Camilla says with a dark look. “We take a knife.” Kate looks even more horrified. “ Just in case . And we use a code word in case one of us is in danger. ‘Pineapple.’?”

“?‘Pineapple’?” Darcy says, raising an eyebrow.

“This is madness,” Kate says. “You can’t seriously think we could do that.” She watches them, reeling. Deep down, another voice is beginning to speak. The voice that has always felt there was something wrong about the investigation, that Fraser’s confession felt too contrived, that the investigation team was too eager to congratulate themselves on solving the case.

Camilla and Darcy are already discussing the logistics of how they might approach Rob. Ply him with alcohol. Or perhaps not—it might decrease their chances of anything he says being taken seriously by the police….

Kate can scarcely believe any of this is real. She stares at her cup of tea, realizing she can’t stomach it.

Camilla turns to her. “Are you in?”

Kate blinks. “Am I in… what?”

“Are you willing to do this?” Camilla says, insistent. “We don’t have much time left.”

Kate looks at their faces. “This is crazy,” she says finally. “You’re talking about a kangaroo court.”

Camilla rises to her feet, agitated. Kate feels torn, as though she’s dissenting. As though she’s a coward.

“Maybe we can do it, without Kate,” Camilla tells Darcy. “Just the two of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate says, feeling ganged up on. “I just… It’s too risky….”

“This man murdered six defenseless people in their beds,” Camilla hisses. “He murdered Elijah. He murdered Cameron.”

“We don’t know that,” Kate says. She falters. “Innocent until proven otherwise, correct?”

Camilla rounds on Kate, her eyes flashing. “You have no idea what it’s like—” She stops, a sob choking her.

“I know what you’re saying,” Kate says softly. “You’re saying I don’t have a right to an opinion, because I survived.”

Camilla stares at her. “I’m not saying that,” she says.

“I know your brother was murdered,” Kate says, raising her eyes to Camilla’s. She turns to Darcy. “And I know that you lost Elijah. And those poor people should never have died, any of them. But I was traumatized for years afterward. Within months I went from being a healthy twenty-four-year-old to a chronically ill agoraphobic.”

“Oh, Kate…,” Darcy says, reaching out to take her hand.

“I have been afraid for twenty-two years ,” Kate says, suddenly bursting into tears. Camilla sits, stunned, as she watches Kate weep, her head in her hands.

“But you lived,” Camilla says coldly.

“Camilla,” Darcy says, chiding.

Kate stops crying and looks up at her. “You’re right,” she says. Then, resigned: “I lived.”