‘Because you were the one to see it. He had no idea that you were going to be there. He said he knows how much hurt and suffering he’s caused you because he’s been going through the same thing.’
Tomek didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond. These were all things that Nathan had neglected to mention to him, things that he’d been too proud to say.
‘Did you ask if there was anyone else with him when he killed Michał?’ Tomek asked.
‘Tomek…’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘He said he was alone. That nobody was there.’
Even though it was what Tomek had been expecting, it didn’t stop it from hurting any less. And from the intonation in his brother’s voice, Tomek got the impression that Dawid believed Nathan. It was just another battering ram into the defences that Tomek had built up for so long.
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Dawid said, sincerity lacing his words.
Tomek caught the lump in his throat and cleared it. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Because I knew how you’d react.’
‘Am I reacting the way you expected now?’
Dawid considered a beat. ‘Well, I mean, at first you did – you wouldn’t let me speak. But now… now, no, which makes me think a part of you’s come to the same conclusion.’
Tomek didn’t respond.
‘I should have come clean,’ Dawid continued. ‘I should have said something sooner. But, look, nobody’s perfect. I hold my hands up and admit that I fucked up. And for that, I’m sorry.’
‘And so you should be.’
Tomek hung up the phone without waiting for a response, then headed towards the flat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The water is warm against my body – our body. We’re cocooned in the tub together, like two caterpillars entwined in one another. Angelica’s resting on me, between my legs. Our bodies have become one. Her head rests heavily against my shoulders, the full weight of it dangling over me. I like the pressure it brings. It feels comforting, like she is the one protecting me. My darling angel.
On the side of the tub is a bar of cinnamon-infused Aleppo soap, one of the kindest soaps for the skin. Only the best for Angelica. The slab is big in my hands, but I don’t expect there to be anything left at the end of tonight. I expect it all to be gone, rubbed gently yet thoroughly into her skin. First, I bring the shower head over her body and douse the top of her in a thin layer of water. Now, with her skin moistened, I begin massaging the soap into her. Starting with her shoulders, running it over the bone, gliding across her skin, all the way down to her arms, her hands, her fingers, where I scrub the suds and bubbles beneath her nails. Every part of her, every inch of her body needs to be cleaned. She must look angelic, perfect.
When I’ve finished with the arms, I move towards the breasts, my hands kneading them like dough, playing with them a little, running my fingers over her nipples, titillating myself in the process. I suppress the urge to climb atop her and suckle on them, chew on them with my teeth.
I can’t. I’ve had my time for that. I mustn’t be greedy. Mustn’t spoil the cleaning process.
But it soon becomes difficult to complete it like this, with her atop me. I must get out of the bathtub and continue my work from outside, much as I don’t want to.
Now I have a better view of her lying in the water, perfectly still, eyes closed, her body floating. This time there’s no rise and fall of her chest, no pulsating of the veins in her neck, no movement beneath her eyelids. She is perfectly still. All mine. She has given herself fully to me, after all this time. Finally.
The next part of the cleaning process proves tricky. I have to keep one foot in the water while I do the rest of her body, massaging the contours of her limbs and muscles with the soap, rubbing it deep into her pores. When I get to her vagina, I reposition myself and her so that her legs are spread. It’s awkward, but I make it work. For this part, I put a glove on and go in deep; the soap bubbling away inside her.
But the real fun is with her toes. Her little piggies. Her cute little piggies that slip and slide in my fingers like little sausages. I suckle on them, tasting them, licking them before cleaning them again. She has the most perfect feet, and I can’t wait to paint them, to dress them up as perfectly as they deserve. She’s going to look so beautiful for when they find her.
If they find her.
My darling angel Angelica.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Before nine o’clock the following morning, Lorna Dean, the Home Office pathologist, had completed Angelica Whitaker’s post-mortem. But it wasn’t until several hours later that Tomek and the team received the results.
‘You didn’t have to come all this way,’ Tomek said as he took them from her.
‘It’s because I missed your face, obviously. I just can’t get you out of my head.’
Tomek froze as he held the papers in his hand, staring into her eyes, his mind completely blank. A second later, Lorna burst into laughter, slapping him on the arm, unable to control herself.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so scared in my life,’ she said. ‘And I never had you down for someone so gullible, either.’
‘Funny. There’s a comedy show down at the Cliffs tonight. Are you performing? Think I saw your mugshot on the billboard down there.’
‘Sadly, I’m fully booked,’ she said.
Tomek unfolded the documents, and as he began to read, Lorna placed her hand over the notes.
‘Part of the reason I came down is because I wanted to discuss my findings with you in person,’ she explained.
‘And the other reason?’
She didn’t answer.
‘I’ll grab the team,’ he said awkwardly, then left the room to save his blushes as much as her own. A few minutes later, the five of them were in the major incident room, looking up at Lorna expectantly. Tomek had no idea what was coming, but it had been all he could think about since finding the body. Wondering what the killer had done to it. How she’d died. Why she looked so malnourished and… empty. He was looking forward to hearing the answers.
