One by One(82)

As if in a dream—or maybe a nightmare—I follow her out of the room. She holds the phone out in front of her like a candle, illuminating the corridor, and when we get to the top of the stairs she says, “After you.”

I hesitate.

I don’t want to make her angry—but at the same time, there is no way I am going down that slippery, precarious staircase with her at my back. I’m just not.

Liz sees my hesitation and gives a mirthless laugh.

“Okay, I don’t blame you. I’ll go first. But you keep a step back, okay? I’m not having you pushing me down the steps either.”

I nod. I don’t mind keeping my distance. It would be almost as easy for her to snatch my ankle out from underneath me as it would be for me to kick her in the small of the back.

God, this is surreal.

I watch her as she makes her way carefully down the stairs, holding the handrail, the phone guiding the way like a faint will-o’-the-wisp.

Downstairs, she moves away from the foot of the stairs and feeds another log into the burner, making it flare so that the room is bright with its glow, and I hurry down while her back is turned, my heart beating quicker until I am on solid ground. Then she straightens up and shuts the glass door of the stove.

I am alone with a murderer. I am alone with a murderer. Maybe if I keep repeating the words to myself it will start to feel real?





LIZ


Snoop ID: ANON101

Listening to: Offline Snoopers: 0

Snoopscribers: 1

In a way, it is a relief to have it out in the open. I could tell there was something wrong, and I have always hated trying to read between the lines, second-guessing myself, attempting to parse a frown or a blank look or a pause that might be something or might be nothing.

Now we both know where we are. Which is a relief. But it is also a problem. Because I liked Erin. No, that’s wrong. I shouldn’t be using the past tense. Not yet.

I like her. I actually do really like her. I don’t want to have to do this. But she did something really, really stupid when she sent that text, and now I have no choice. She’s forced my hand, really. If anything this is her fault.

The sense of injustice boils up again. This is so unfair.

“I never wanted any of this, you know,” I say to her as she sinks down onto one of the chairs, staring into the flames. She is shaking. I’m not sure if it’s cold or shock.

“What?”

She looks up, and I feel anger bubble up inside me, and then I push it back down. Has she even been listening?

“I said I never wanted this.” I sink down into the armchair opposite her. I stare at the fire, feeling its heat on my face. “I would never have killed any of them if I could help it. I’m just as much of a victim here.”

She blinks—and for a minute it looks like she’s going to say something, but then she seems to think better of it.

“Tell me about it,” she says. And so I do.





ERIN


Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

Listening to: Offline Snoopers: 5

Snoopscribers: 10

I am lost in thought as Liz sits down opposite me, and it takes me a moment to realize she is talking. What she is saying doesn’t make sense—some nonsense about her being the real victim in all of this.

I look up, and I meet her eyes, and I am overwhelmed with the urge to slap her, to shake her, to scream, You? Are you kidding me? What about Eva? What about Elliot? What about fucking Ani, who never harmed a fly?

But I don’t.

Because I suddenly know what I have to do here.

I have to humor her. I have to keep her talking long enough for Danny to get back here with reinforcements. He has seen the text. He knows what it means. He will be doing everything he can to help me. I don’t know what time it is, but it must be way after midnight. If I can just keep Liz talking long enough, I may be able to survive this. I may even be able to get justice for all the people she has killed.

Because I am a survivor, that’s what Liz doesn’t know about me. She sees a soft, posh girl from the same background as Topher and Eva, someone who has never had to work for her living, to scrap for survival.

But that’s not true. Not in my case. In spite of my family name, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, not in the way Topher and Eva did. I’ve always known that I was second best, and that I would have to fight for myself. I know what it’s like to clean up other people’s messes for a living.

But more than that, the most important thing about me, something Liz will never understand, could never understand, unless she had stood in my shoes: I looked death in the face once, and I turned him away.

I can do it again.

“Tell me about it,” I say. There is a catch in my throat, and my voice is shaking with the effort of keeping it calm, when I feel anything but. But Liz doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she smiles. Incredibly, unbelievably, she smiles.

And she begins to speak.





LIZ


Snoop ID: ANON101

Listening to: Offline

Snoopers: 0

Snoopscribers: 1

“You don’t know what it was like, starting at Snoop,” I say. It is easier not to look at Erin while I’m telling her this, so I look away again, into the fire, remembering that first day—opening the office door, and seeing them all, lounging around inside, laughing, bantering, so effortlessly, searingly cool. “It was like walking into a different world. Like something off the TV, where people were sleek and beautiful and witty. They were like a different species, and I wanted to be them so much. School—school was so horrible. I can’t explain it. I knew I was different from the other girls in my class, I knew they all laughed at me. But somehow I thought when I got to my real life it would be different. I thought that maybe I was just an ugly duckling.”