Page 64 of Killing Me Softly

Aaron reached for his hand, entwining their fingers, then kissed his knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”

“Now, with the card and roses from Jessica at my mother’s bedside, I know this isn’t random.”

Aaron pulled away. “The what?”

“Jack didn’t tell you that?”

“No.” Aaron shifted, slipping off Kenny’s lap to sit back on the sofa, but he kept Kenny’s hands in his. “He just told me about the cause of death. Fuck. So someone targeted her?”

“It looks that way.”

“And you have theories.”

Kenny let out a bitter breath, his mind already working, the pieces rearranging themselves in a pattern he didn’t want to see but couldn’t ignore. “Yes.”

“You gonna share them?”

“First off, this isn’t about my mother. It’s about me. They’re trying to get tome. And they used Jessica as bait. They knew exactly what they were doing. It wasn’t impulse. It wasn’t random. It was planned.Calculated. My mum’s mind was fragile, stumbling between reality and delusion. To be smothered like that? To go quietly? Without any fight? She had to have been blindsided. Lured into submission by someonewho knew exactly how to manipulate her. She’d have believed anyone was Jessica, anyone who played the part well enough. And the killer had to haveknownthey could do that.”

“Whowouldknow that?”

“It’s not hard to find out what happened to Jessica. I’ve written about her. But to use that knowledge the way they did? That takesinsiderinformation. And to know my mother wassusceptible, to know how to break through her delusions, someone had to watch her. Study her. Plan for this.”

Aaron swallowed with unease. “But why kill her? A frail, elderly woman in a nursing home? It just seems…cruel.”

“Killers aren’t known for their empathy. You’ve studied this. Lived this. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. But…If they want you. Why not come at you directly?”

“Because this isn’t about killing me. It’s about control. Proving theycanget to me. Whenever they want. Even in a care home, surrounded by staff, they were able to do this. They’re clever and they want me to knowhowclever. They want to hurt me first. Play with me. Disarm me. Leaving the flowers and the card, putting my sister’s name all over it, that’s a taunt. A cruel mockery. They want me to know this is a game.”

“And they want you to play.”

“Yes. Looks that way.”

Aaron’s phone vibrating on the coffee table interrupted whatever he was going to say.

Kenny peered down at it. “Why is your ex-boyfriend calling you?”

Aaron grabbed the phone and cut the call. “Fuck knows. Second time today. I imagine he’s having an attack of the guilts.” He threw the phone back down on the table. “Do you think someone’s targeting you because of me?”

“It’s a theory. We can’t ignore the links. Like with Rahul, putting those roses there is a deliberate taunt or sign. If thisisabout you, then it’s someone who knows about us and they don’t like it. They might see it as an insult to your parents’ memory, a betrayal of their twisted ideals. Or they could see me as a threat, someone who’s pulling you out of their shadow.”

“So who knows about us? If we’re thinkingthatway? Who knows?”

“If you had asked me a week ago, I would have said no one. Obviously, there’s Jack, but he’s unlikely to have spread thatnews anywhere considering the implications for himself. Plus, I know him. I trust him. Other than that, I’d not told a soul. You?”

“No one. I mean, a week ago, no one.”

“And now?”

“Taylor saw me when I was shopping. Saw your list, but…that was after your mum. And I had to tell Mel today, after all that shit about Barcelona in class. She guessed. But before that…” Aaron’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, veering left, knitting his brown in concentration, a subconscious movement toward his memory centres. He was searching through his internal archives. “Fuck.”

“What?”

Aaron closed his eyes. “Fuck.Fuck.”

“Aaron?” Kenny shifted closer. “What is it?”

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