Ellie gripped the arms of the sofa as her temper got the better of her. ‘So what? Go ahead. Go public with it, be my guest. I’ll survive it. In the end, plenty of others have found a true happiness they never thought possible because of me.’
‘Oh, Ells. Still so naive. Have you not learned anything from this?’
She glared at him, not knowing what he was talking about.
‘You’re not the only one to have the rug pulled from under your feet. Millions of your subscribers are about to have their lives turned upside down too.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Did you think I’d simply mis-Match you and me? Of course not. I rewrote your whole coding so that, over the space of the last eighteen months, at least two million people on your database were Matched with the wrong person.’
Ellie swallowed hard, and her heart beat so fast she thought it might break her chest bone.
‘My mis-Matches are so completely random, even I don’t know who’s been affected,’ he continued. ‘Anyone signed up and Matched in that time period – which by your company’s growth rate is around twenty-five million people – could be one of my mis-Matches. Because of me, your business has just become completely worthless. Nobody will know if their Match is for real or if they’ve just talked themselves into it. I told you I was going to destroy you, and I never make promises that I can’t keep.’
Chapter 86
MANDY
It was the pounding in her forehead that eventually woke Mandy from her unconscious state.
With her eyes still closed, she reached her right hand slowly towards her face and felt the egg-shaped lump. It was tender to the touch. She could feel a line of stitches holding it together. Slowly, she attempted to open her eyes but her eyelids felt as if they’d been glued. She tried to move her left hand but it was too heavy and she was too weak. She went to grasp it with the other and realised it was encased in plaster that stretched towards the middle of her forearm.
As she gradually came round, Mandy couldn’t fathom out where she was or why the smell reminded her of bleach and mouthwash. She guessed she must be in a bathroom until she turned her head and squinted through the window. As her eyes focused, she recognised the built-up landscape outside. She had been here before, she recognised that view. Both times she’d lost her children, she’d been here. She was in a hospital.
Suddenly, a rising sense of panic engulfed her. She moved her hands under the sheets to her pronounced belly. It was much flatter than before. No, please not again, she prayed helplessly.
‘Is somebody there?’ she croaked, her throat bone dry, but she was alone in the room. Mandy tried to pull herself up in the bed and lie back against the metal frame, but a sharp, shooting pain wrapped its way around her stomach. She grimaced and her hand flailed against the side of the bed, looking for the button she knew should be there. She jabbed at it hard.
It took a few moments before a nurse with ponytail appeared at her door. ‘Ah, you’re awake, how are you feeling?’ She spoke in a foreign accent and made her way to Mandy’s side.
‘My baby,’ Mandy mumbled, and tried to clamber out of the bed. ‘Where’s my baby?’
‘Let me get the doctor,’ the nurse said, and left the room.
Mandy’s body trembled involuntarily as she took in her surroundings. The nagging pain in her forehead compounded with the pain in her stomach and wrist made her nauseous. She only just managed to lean towards the edge of the bed before she vomited on the floor. The doctor arrived.
‘I need to see my baby …’ she mumbled.
‘No, no, no, you must stay where you are, Mrs Taylor,’ he replied, as the nurse helped to clean her up. Mandy was too panicked to even notice he’d called her Mrs Taylor. ‘Your little boy is safe and well.’
‘Little boy?’ she asked. Pat’s prediction had been correct.
‘Yes,’ he continued, glancing at a chart which he’d pulled from a hook at the base of her bed. ‘You gave birth prematurely to a boy five days ago. Four pounds, four ounces. He’s safe and healthy and just down the corridor.’
‘What happened to me?’
‘We were told that you fell down a flight of stairs. You sustained a head injury and a fractured wrist along with a minor swelling to the brain, which put your body into shock. You’ve been kept sedated for the last few days and your baby was born by caesarean section as a precautionary measure. Now you need to take it very, very easy for the next few days. You’ll be of no use to him if you try to rush these things.’
‘When can I see him?’
‘I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring him to you in the next few minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
Mandy’s leaned her head back against the pillow and she sighed with relief. She could just about remember tumbling down the stairs during her confrontation with Pat and Chloe, but could recall little else. It wasn’t the ideal way for her baby to come into the world, but he was here nonetheless and he was healthy. It hurt her head to smile and cry but she did both regardless. She was a mother.
However, her delight quickly turned to concern when she saw the doctor’s face when he returned minutes later.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Griffiths. It appears your son is elsewhere in the hospital with your family at the moment. They’ve probably just taken him for some fresh air around the grounds.’
Mandy’s eyes widened. ‘My family?’
‘Yes, they’ve been here most days waiting for you to wake up. They’ve been spending a lot of time with him.’
‘Who? Who is it exactly that has him?’
‘Your mother and sister, I believe. They called the ambulance that brought you in.’
Mandy’s body filled with an ominous dread before she grabbed the perplexed doctor’s arm.
‘Call the police right now,’ she growled.
Chapter 87
CHRISTOPHER
The rear entrance to her ground floor flat was shabby. A dusting of fallen rendering was scattered across the pavement below and cracked putty held the window frames in place.
But the age and the lack of maintenance to the property were an advantage to Christopher, as it meant little had been updated or replaced in the last twenty years. For a man of his experience, the basic two-lever mortice door lock was easy to pick.
Two clicks of the barrel and he was inside, quietly closing the door behind him and familiarising himself with the layout of the apartment. He’d last visited Number Thirty some weeks earlier and she’d changed nothing since. A smell of damp still lingered in the air and the street light outside illuminated the cheap, flat-pack assembled furniture.
Christopher’s thirtieth kill should have been something for him to celebrate; a target that at times seemed insurmountable was now, against all odds, within his reach. Thirty corpses, thousands of newspaper and magazine column inches, television documentaries and appeals featuring dramatic and wide-of-the-mark reconstructions, and all because of his efforts. And still no one was any the wiser as to who was behind it or their motivation.
However, Christopher was in no mood to commemorate his achievement or rest on his laurels. He just wanted to get his last kill over with, leave his mark on the pavement outside and return home. Then tomorrow night he’d be curled up by Amy’s side and in her bed, his arm draped over her chest and holding on to her as if there was nobody else in the world.
‘Oh, Ells. Still so naive. Have you not learned anything from this?’
She glared at him, not knowing what he was talking about.
‘You’re not the only one to have the rug pulled from under your feet. Millions of your subscribers are about to have their lives turned upside down too.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Did you think I’d simply mis-Match you and me? Of course not. I rewrote your whole coding so that, over the space of the last eighteen months, at least two million people on your database were Matched with the wrong person.’
Ellie swallowed hard, and her heart beat so fast she thought it might break her chest bone.
‘My mis-Matches are so completely random, even I don’t know who’s been affected,’ he continued. ‘Anyone signed up and Matched in that time period – which by your company’s growth rate is around twenty-five million people – could be one of my mis-Matches. Because of me, your business has just become completely worthless. Nobody will know if their Match is for real or if they’ve just talked themselves into it. I told you I was going to destroy you, and I never make promises that I can’t keep.’
Chapter 86
MANDY
It was the pounding in her forehead that eventually woke Mandy from her unconscious state.
With her eyes still closed, she reached her right hand slowly towards her face and felt the egg-shaped lump. It was tender to the touch. She could feel a line of stitches holding it together. Slowly, she attempted to open her eyes but her eyelids felt as if they’d been glued. She tried to move her left hand but it was too heavy and she was too weak. She went to grasp it with the other and realised it was encased in plaster that stretched towards the middle of her forearm.
As she gradually came round, Mandy couldn’t fathom out where she was or why the smell reminded her of bleach and mouthwash. She guessed she must be in a bathroom until she turned her head and squinted through the window. As her eyes focused, she recognised the built-up landscape outside. She had been here before, she recognised that view. Both times she’d lost her children, she’d been here. She was in a hospital.
Suddenly, a rising sense of panic engulfed her. She moved her hands under the sheets to her pronounced belly. It was much flatter than before. No, please not again, she prayed helplessly.
‘Is somebody there?’ she croaked, her throat bone dry, but she was alone in the room. Mandy tried to pull herself up in the bed and lie back against the metal frame, but a sharp, shooting pain wrapped its way around her stomach. She grimaced and her hand flailed against the side of the bed, looking for the button she knew should be there. She jabbed at it hard.
It took a few moments before a nurse with ponytail appeared at her door. ‘Ah, you’re awake, how are you feeling?’ She spoke in a foreign accent and made her way to Mandy’s side.
‘My baby,’ Mandy mumbled, and tried to clamber out of the bed. ‘Where’s my baby?’
‘Let me get the doctor,’ the nurse said, and left the room.
Mandy’s body trembled involuntarily as she took in her surroundings. The nagging pain in her forehead compounded with the pain in her stomach and wrist made her nauseous. She only just managed to lean towards the edge of the bed before she vomited on the floor. The doctor arrived.
‘I need to see my baby …’ she mumbled.
‘No, no, no, you must stay where you are, Mrs Taylor,’ he replied, as the nurse helped to clean her up. Mandy was too panicked to even notice he’d called her Mrs Taylor. ‘Your little boy is safe and well.’
‘Little boy?’ she asked. Pat’s prediction had been correct.
‘Yes,’ he continued, glancing at a chart which he’d pulled from a hook at the base of her bed. ‘You gave birth prematurely to a boy five days ago. Four pounds, four ounces. He’s safe and healthy and just down the corridor.’
‘What happened to me?’
‘We were told that you fell down a flight of stairs. You sustained a head injury and a fractured wrist along with a minor swelling to the brain, which put your body into shock. You’ve been kept sedated for the last few days and your baby was born by caesarean section as a precautionary measure. Now you need to take it very, very easy for the next few days. You’ll be of no use to him if you try to rush these things.’
‘When can I see him?’
‘I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring him to you in the next few minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
Mandy’s leaned her head back against the pillow and she sighed with relief. She could just about remember tumbling down the stairs during her confrontation with Pat and Chloe, but could recall little else. It wasn’t the ideal way for her baby to come into the world, but he was here nonetheless and he was healthy. It hurt her head to smile and cry but she did both regardless. She was a mother.
However, her delight quickly turned to concern when she saw the doctor’s face when he returned minutes later.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Griffiths. It appears your son is elsewhere in the hospital with your family at the moment. They’ve probably just taken him for some fresh air around the grounds.’
Mandy’s eyes widened. ‘My family?’
‘Yes, they’ve been here most days waiting for you to wake up. They’ve been spending a lot of time with him.’
‘Who? Who is it exactly that has him?’
‘Your mother and sister, I believe. They called the ambulance that brought you in.’
Mandy’s body filled with an ominous dread before she grabbed the perplexed doctor’s arm.
‘Call the police right now,’ she growled.
Chapter 87
CHRISTOPHER
The rear entrance to her ground floor flat was shabby. A dusting of fallen rendering was scattered across the pavement below and cracked putty held the window frames in place.
But the age and the lack of maintenance to the property were an advantage to Christopher, as it meant little had been updated or replaced in the last twenty years. For a man of his experience, the basic two-lever mortice door lock was easy to pick.
Two clicks of the barrel and he was inside, quietly closing the door behind him and familiarising himself with the layout of the apartment. He’d last visited Number Thirty some weeks earlier and she’d changed nothing since. A smell of damp still lingered in the air and the street light outside illuminated the cheap, flat-pack assembled furniture.
Christopher’s thirtieth kill should have been something for him to celebrate; a target that at times seemed insurmountable was now, against all odds, within his reach. Thirty corpses, thousands of newspaper and magazine column inches, television documentaries and appeals featuring dramatic and wide-of-the-mark reconstructions, and all because of his efforts. And still no one was any the wiser as to who was behind it or their motivation.
However, Christopher was in no mood to commemorate his achievement or rest on his laurels. He just wanted to get his last kill over with, leave his mark on the pavement outside and return home. Then tomorrow night he’d be curled up by Amy’s side and in her bed, his arm draped over her chest and holding on to her as if there was nobody else in the world.
