Anita was reaching out to him directly.
His hands trembled as he opened the laptop again and began to type. Indignation and fury fuelled him. He had known this would happen, hadn’t he? He’d told them that if Lucy was let out it wouldn’t be long before she began tormenting people again. She was poisonous, evil, a danger to good people. She had to be stopped.
And as he typed he convinced himself: he was the best person to deal with her. It had to be him.
He replied to Anita then went directly to the Qantas website to look up flights.
Four
It took some time to find a taxi driver willing to take him from Ludlow to Anita’s place. She hadn’t been lying – the address was on a blacklist and the cabbie made Jamie pay up front.
They drove out of town into the countryside as the sun went down. There was very little traffic around and at one point the cab had to slow down because there was a sheep standing in the road. The driver sounded his horn and the creature took its time getting out the way.
It was fully dark by the time they reached the house. There were no streetlights to be seen; nothing but moonlight and a thin smattering of stars. Jamie asked the driver to drop him on the main road, then carried his little suitcase up the driveway to the converted farmhouse, which glowed faintly white beneath the moon. It was so quiet his ears whistled.
He double-checked the instructions Anita had given him. Hers was the door on the right. All the way here in the taxi he had imagined himself knocking on the wrong door and coming face-to-face with Lucy. It was important that she didn’t know he was here so he had deliberately arrived at night, wearing a hoodie just to make sure. He was probably being over-cautious: Anita had also told him that Lucy always went out on Wednesday evenings, and there were no lights in the windows on her side of the house.
He knocked lightly and a petite blonde woman opened the door. She had big green eyes and looked, as Jamie’s nan would have said, like a strong breeze would carry her away. She wrung her hands together and, even in the poor light, Jamie could see that the skin around her fingernails was pink and shredded.
‘Anita?’
She peered over his shoulder, which did nothing to help his nerves, and gestured for him to hurry inside, shutting and chaining the door behind him.
‘I’m pretty sure she’s gone out, but . . . well, you can see what this has done to me.’ She held out her hand so he could see how it trembled, then motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. ‘I’m never normally wound tight like this. If you asked my friends they’d say I was one of the most chilled people on the planet. So laid back she’s nearly laid out. Well, not any more.’
She grabbed a bottle of wine from a rack on the counter and poured him one without asking. She already had a glass on the go.
‘Thank you so much for coming. I can’t believe you’re actually here. I’m almost at my wits’ end so thank you, thank—’ She broke off. ‘Sorry. I told you I was wound tight. I need to stop yammering on, don’t I?’
‘It’s fine.’ He smiled. ‘I get it. I was the same when she was my neighbour. But I need to ask you something, and it’s important you tell me the truth. When you sent me that message, did you know who I was?’
She avoided his eye, then looked at him sheepishly through her fringe. ‘Yeah. Well, I wasn’t one hundred per cent certain but I guessed. Your posts were so impassioned and personal, and then there was your username. KITT. That was the car from Knight Rider, right? I mean, I’m too young to remember that programme, but Knight Rider, Jamie Knight . . . I’m surprised no one else thought of it.’
He laughed. He’d been using plays on Knight Rider when he chose usernames for so long that he’d almost forgotten why he did it.
‘I guess that was a bit of a giveaway,’ he said.
‘I’m just . . . I’m so grateful for you for coming all this way. Like I said, I’ll pay for your flight . . .’
He held up a hand. ‘Anita, it’s fine. I want to help. I’ve been thinking about how to do it . . .’
She led him into the living room. It was large and bright, with the clean look and smell of somewhere that had been recently modernised, though the developers had kept the original windows and fireplace, which gave the place character. Anita was clearly house-proud because it was as neat and tidy as a show home.
He sat in an armchair opposite her and she said, ‘You look different to how you looked in the news reports.’
‘It’s the tan.’
‘Must be. You look good.’
She coloured a little as she said it and Jamie wondered if she was flirting with him. She was quite attractive but that wasn’t what he was here for. Especially now, with the text message from Kirsty pulsing on the phone in his pocket.
‘Has Lucy done anything else in the last couple of days, since you contacted me?’ he asked.
A slow nod and Anita got to her feet. To Jamie’s surprise, she turned to the side and pulled up her top, revealing six inches of flesh.
There was a nasty-looking bruise on her flank, purple tinged with yellow.
‘How the hell did that happen?’
She let her T-shirt drop back into place and sat down. ‘She left oil on the front path. I came out and slipped over. Banged my side on the doorstep.’
‘Jesus. That’s exactly what Chris did to Kirsty. That’s how he made her—’
‘Lose your baby. Yes, I know.’
Jamie stared into the middle distance, picturing it. He slipped a hand into his pocket, touching his phone.
‘I feel terrible, Jamie,’ Anita said. ‘This must be bringing it all back.’
‘Please. Don’t. It’s something . . . It’s something I need to confront . . . You did say you’ve checked this place for concealed cameras and audio equipment, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. I did. I’ve checked all the light fittings, the air vents, the smoke alarms . . . Everywhere.’
‘Good. You know how she operates, right? She gets off on watching people suffer. You’re her latest victim.’
Anita stared at him, eyes wide.
‘She obviously thinks she’ll get away with it because she’s clever and careful. What she and Chris did to me and Kirsty . . . We couldn’t go to the police because there were no outward signs they were breaking the law. It was all subtle, insidious.’
Anita nodded. Beyond the window, it was pitch-black. Wind whistled in the chimney, like ghosts dancing in the walls.
He went on. ‘We could confront her, tell her we know what she’s up to, but I don’t think it would do any good. And even if she was scared off, she’d only do it to someone else. She needs to be back in prison.’
‘I agree.’
‘So we need to catch her breaking the law. And we need firm evidence that she’s done so. In other words, we have to set a trap.’
Anita waited and, when he didn’t continue, said, ‘But how?’
He leaned forward.
‘We’re going to make her angry – so angry that she fucks up. And when she does . . .’ He punched the palm of his hand.
A little later, Jamie lay in bed in the spare room, unable to sleep. His jet-lagged body thought it was morning and his head was buzzing.