Page 49 of Perfect Wives
Tasha tugs on her ponytail. ‘I just don’t understand why Keira recorded us?’
Georgie shakes her head. ‘That’s not the question that matters, Tash. It’s what she wants from us.’
‘Is it possible she thinks we actually went through with it and killed Jonny?’ Tasha asks. ‘It’s a massive coincidence he was killed the same night we talked about murdering him, isn’t it? Maybe she’s going to ask us for money. She wants to blackmail us.’
Tasha and Georgie continue to talk, voices low and fast, bouncing theories off each other. I stare again at the phone in my hand. It’s been fifteen minutes exactly since that recording was sent. A prickle runs down my spine as another ping rings through the kitchen.
I don’t breathe as all three of us unlock our phones to see the voice recording disappear from the chat. Replaced with a message:
You can’t avoid me forever. It’s time to talk.
‘Where did that recording go?’ Tasha asks.
I glance down at the now-empty WhatsApp group before my eyes move back to Tasha. I can see the panic coiling around her. She’s seconds from unravelling. I shoot a look at Georgie. Her mouth is a flat line, her hands rubbing at the pressure point on her palm.
‘Disappearing messages,’ Georgie mutters. ‘Or she’s deleting them the moment she sees one of us has viewed them. It means we have nothing to show anyone. Nothing to prove what she’s sent us.’
The kitchen feels suddenly too small, the air thick with our fear for whatever is coming next. My heart is banging against my ribcage.
Getting upset won’t be good for the baby.
As if I don’t know that. I close my eyes for a second, my hands gripping the counter, holding on to something solid.
Another ping sounds on our phones. I check the time. Exactly five minutes have passed since the last message. This time it’s another voice recording.
A fresh chill rolls through me as Georgie presses play and Keira’s voice fills the room. It’s quiet, like it was recorded in a car or outside, but the Irish accent is clearly hers.
‘Let’s talk movies,’ Keira says, her voice casual, like we’re still in the pub. ‘Ever seenStrangers on a Train? Alfred Hitchcock. Two strangers – each needs someone dead. They swap murders. One kills for the other, giving airtight alibis on both sides. No connection. No motive. Completely untraceable.’
There’s a pause in the recording. My gaze lifts. Georgie’s face has drained of colour. Tasha’s eyes are wide and glassy. Blood roars in my ears. Everything is muffled, like I’m underwater. I feel the panic everywhere in my body.
‘My ex is called Richard Philips,’ Keira says. ‘He’s just like your Jonny. A piece of shit who is making my life hell. He works at Fordly Woods Business Park and runs back to town just after fivep.m. every day. It’ll be easy. All you have to do is hit him with your car. That quiet stretch of lane – no one around. I’ll be at a Pilates class tonight. Make sure you do it then.’
The voice note cuts off.
Silence. Thick and suffocating. ‘What does that mean?’ Tasha asks. Her voice is childlike. Terrified. ‘What is she saying?’
I can’t answer. My hand instinctively moves to the soft swell of my stomach. To my baby and everything I have to lose. Everything I must protect.
Georgie presses her fingers to her temples, her voice barely a whisper. ‘It means…Keira murdered Jonny.’
Then she lifts her eyes, staring at both of us with a wild terror. ‘And now she wants us to kill someone for her.’
TWENTY-SIX
GEORGIE
Keira killed Jonny.
The thought spins in my mind. A vicious, unrelenting turn.
I’ve been so wrapped up in myself. In what Keira might tell Nate. In whether the police would uncover my connection to Jonny and what that would do to my already failing marriage. I’ve been so busy panicking over secrets and consequences that I never considered the possibility it was Keira behind Jonny’s death.
We all told ourselves it was a coincidence he died the same night we’d joked about in the pub. But of course it wasn’t. Keira killed him. It was stupid of me not to consider the possibility earlier. There’s something dangerous about Keira. We all felt it that first night and in the days we’ve seen her since. And now that feeling makes sickening sense.
I unleash a breath, the exhale shuddering through me. I force myself to look at my friends. Tasha is crying, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, barely holding herself upright. But it’s Beth who crumbles, throwing a hand over her mouth and rushing from the room. I hear the bathroom door click shut a second later.
And I’m just standing here. Frozen.
