Nine Elms (Kate Marshall #1)(106)

Kate was stunned into silence. It was a perfect replica of her bedroom from the flat in Deptford all those years ago. It had the same wallpaper, and there was a fake window with the same view overlooking the street and the row of shops.

“I re-created it all from the crime scene photos, sourced everything I could online,” said Joseph. “I also got access to the flat, to take that photo outside the window. That’s the actual view.”

Kate looked between them, petrified by the craziness of it all. There was even an identical bedspread to the one she’d had back then with blue and yellow cornflowers. The lava lamp was on the bedside table, the orange wax lazily blooming out from the bottom and breaking away in a circle to float to the top. The small TV was there with the lamp on top—the terrible Laura Ashley lamp Glenda had bought her the birthday before.

Kate’s blood ran cold, and it fell into place.

“You’ve been copycatting Peter’s murders,” she said. “I wondered what you were going to do after victim number four . . . I was victim number five, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” hissed Joseph in her ear.

“She’s very clever, isn’t she, Joseph?” said Peter. “Yes. You would have been my fifth victim. Or should I say, after tonight, you will be my fifth victim.”

There was something so sure in his voice, something almost religious about his declaration, and it chilled Kate.

“Why are you doing this, Joseph?” asked Kate.

“For years I’ve grown up living in the shadow of a so-called brilliant barrister. My brother, Keir, is the firstborn, the heir, and I am the spare. My whole life I was told I’d never be memorable, that I would never do anything great like my father, but no. Tonight, I’m showing them what I’m capable of. My father thought he put Peter away for life, and now the son he never thought would amount to anything has set him free!”

Kate felt how Joseph shook, how his body trembled, and he gripped her tighter.

“And what’s in this for you, Peter?” she said. “You know they’ll catch you again.”

Peter grinned and shrugged.

“My life in prison is all black and white. Yes and no. The Inside and the Outside. Wrong and right. It’s regimented. There’s never a gray area. Either way it’s a risk, but I get to step out and experience life in the gray areas. Joseph here is setting me and Mother up with a new life on the continent. In return, I help him complete his work. He paid homage to my first four victims, and now you are my fifth. Think of it as a cameo. A reboot.”

“What about Jake?” said Kate, thinking fast and seeing an opportunity. “You don’t need him. He wasn’t even born when all this happened. It has nothing to do with him. Let him go.”

“We need a witness to tell everyone what happened. To pass on the legend. You, Kate, will be dead, and myself and Joseph will be long gone. We can’t just rely on the police to piece it all together.”

Peter laughed, showing his brown teeth. Kate suddenly felt reality tipping away, and it was all so surreal. She heard a strange laugh erupt from her throat.

“What’s so fucking funny?” said Peter, his face clouding over. “You’re not supposed to be laughing!”

A look passed between the two men, a look of panic.

“You two,” said Kate, laughing.

“You think I’m funny, bitch?” shouted Joseph, pulling back and spinning her round to face him. “Do you think this is funny?” He let her go and went to Jake. In one movement he took out his knife and sliced a piece off the top of his ear. It was only small, but Jake cried out and put his hand to it, blood pouring between his fingers.

“No! Please!” cried Kate, running to Jake and regretting that her stupidity had been taken out on him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re funny.” She held Jake and checked the wound.

“You don’t laugh at me!” cried Joseph. “I can buy anything I want. I have so much money, and these days you can buy anything. You can buy passports and safe passage. You can bribe and fight, and you can make your dreams and fantasies come true. I pity people like you. You’re nothing. And you don’t fucking laugh at me!”

“Okay, okay,” said Peter, holding up his hands to Joseph. “Jesus. We need to get on with this.”

Kate looked at the replica bedroom. The lamp glowing and the bed neatly made. Among all the crazy, and the fear, that bed looked so inviting and comfy. For the first time, she wished that she’d arrived home that night, after working the Crystal Palace murder scene, and she’d left that bag in Peter’s car, and he’d driven home. She could have sunk into that cozy mattress and lived the rest of her life uneventfully.

Kate came out of her reverie and saw them both staring at her.

“Where are we?” she asked, a thought coming to her. “Where is this place?”

Peter began to laugh; Joseph joined in.

“Where we are, I think, is the most brilliant part of it all.” Joseph pulled Jake away from her, and Peter grabbed her arm. He dragged her over to the large sliding door and pressed a button. He held on to her as the door slowly whirred back. The wind blew inside, whipping Kate’s hair around her head. Her mouth dropped open as she saw they looked over the river Thames and the London skyline twinkling at night. The chimneys of Battersea Power Station rose up out of the water.