Destroy Me by Karen Cole (read people like a book TXT) 📗

hi,’ he says warily over the intercom. We didn’t have an appointment, did we?’

‘No, but I need to speak to you. Can I come in?’

‘Um, well, now isn’t a good time,’ he says.

I take a deep breath and try to remain calm. I’m not going to make the same mistake I made with Luke. I mustn’t accuse him of anything or show how agitated I am until I’m sure he has Dylan.

‘It’s important. It’s about Charlie,’ I say.

There’s a long pause. ‘All right,’ he agrees at last and he buzzes me through into the dimly lit foyer. As my eyes adjust, I see that he’s already standing at the door to his flat, ready to greet me.

He looks sleepy-eyed, ready for a quiet night in, wearing grey jogging bottoms and an old, worn Rolling Stones t-shirt. The pungent smell of curry spice wafts out from his kitchen and the TV is burbling away in the background. He steps back and ushers me in. ‘It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.’

He’s not wrong about the mess. There are boxes and piles of clothes and books and crockery everywhere on every surface.

‘I’m moving out soon,’ he explains. ‘It’s amazing how much stuff you accumulate. Even though we were only here a few years.’ He turns off the TV and gestures for me to sit. ‘Most of it is Charlie’s,’ he sighs. ‘I don’t know what to do with it. You can have look through and take what you want. I’m sure she would have wanted you to have something.’

‘Er, thanks.’ I remove a pile of clothes and perch on the edge of the sofa. My heart is racing. Has he got Dylan? If so, where is he hiding him?

‘You said you had something to tell me about Charlie,’ he says.

‘Er, yes, a photo.’ I rummage in my bag and hand him the photo. It’s a picture of me and Charlie on a school trip in France. We’re on the beach. Mont St Michel in the background. We look so young. Charlie is wearing a beret and pretending to smoke a cheroot. We were going through a phase of trying to emulate the bohemians of the 1950s. Charlie looks beautiful, slender and elegant. By her side, I look fat and frumpy.

Adam’s eyes well up as he looks at the picture and he fingers it delicately, as if it might fall apart in his hands.

‘Can I keep it?’ he adds. ‘I could make a copy and give it back to you.’

‘Yes, sure,’ I say, distractedly. I’m scanning the apartment for places Dylan could be. The doors to the bedrooms and the bathrooms are all closed, I notice. But how can I look inside without arousing his suspicion?

‘So, you’re moving?’ I say, trying to sound politely casual.

He nods. ‘Yes, I thought it best to have a complete break, a fresh start. There are too many memories here . . .’ he tails off.

‘Have you rented the apartment?’

He shrugs. ‘No, not yet. I haven’t had much interest. People are superstitious. You know – they don’t want to live in a place where there’s been a murder. I suppose I can’t really blame them.’

‘I might be interested,’ I say, sensing an opportunity.

‘Really?’ he stares at me surprised.

‘Yes, my place is a bit too big for just me and my son, now my husband has moved out. I was thinking of downsizing.’ I’m already moving towards the closest door. ‘Do you mind if I have a look around?’ I don’t give him time to answer before I push open the door and barge into the master bedroom. Inside, I inhale sharply. The room smells slightly stale. There are a couple of black plastic bags full of clothes on the double bed. Drawers and wardrobe have been flung open as if someone has ransacked the place. There’s no sign of Dylan though, and no obvious hiding places. I peer under the bed, just in case. Just as Adam comes into the room behind me. He gives me an odd look but doesn’t say anything.

‘There are two bedrooms?’ I say, talking loudly, so that if Dylan is here, he’ll hear me.

‘Er, yes,’ Adam’s arms are hanging loosely by his sides. He’s broad-shouldered and powerful-looking, but I’m not afraid. I’m too worried about Dylan to be afraid of anything. I will do anything, face any danger to get him back. I brush past Adam and open a door to another smaller bedroom and then finally the bathroom with Adam following, watching my every move.

‘How much is the rent?’ I ask, swallowing my disappointment as I realise that the apartment is empty, and that Dylan isn’t here.

‘Actually, I was thinking of selling it.’

‘The whole place?’ I ask, surprised, ‘or just this flat?’

He sighs. ‘Just this place. Charlie made me promise never to sell the house. She was dying of cancer, you see, and she was worried about what would happen to Ben and Meg after her death.’

‘She was very generous to them.’

He bites his lip. ‘Yes, maybe too generous. I’m not sure she was in her right mind the last few months. I don’t know, but after her diagnosis she just seemed to go crazy.’

‘Crazy how?’ I’m only half listening. My mind is working overtime. Maybe Adam has taken Dylan somewhere else. Maybe Dylan is already dead. But I won’t allow myself to think that. Dylan is alive and he needs me to hold it together. I try to focus on what Adam’s saying. He’s talking about Charlie.

‘Well, for starters she gave away over half her money to charity and then she let the upstairs flat to Ben for free. I mean it wasn’t exactly the soundest move from a business perspective. We argued about it a lot. But it’s hard to win an argument with someone who’s dying, and she was adamant. She had some crazy idea that she had sinned and needed to make amends.’

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. ‘Sinned? What did she mean?’

Was Theo right?