I rolled around on the bed, punching the pillows for thirty seconds, before sitting up and breathing deeply. I messaged Pete, who’d been quiet all day. Even with the time difference, it was unlike him. Normally he was awake half the night, bouncing around his playground, the internet. The blue ticks on my last message indicated that he’d read it. Possibly he was embarrassed, or hurt, or angry. Nothing like a polite knock back to make a man angry. I wrote that the plug was installed, and gave him the hub information. I finished up with, Can we make some fuss tomorrow then? It’ll be soooo funny to get her panicking lol.
It was close to 7 p.m., and I was full of adrenaline, despite the punishing jump workout, so I got back into my gym gear and went for another run. I managed 10 km, running through the clean streets, lined with their neat cobbles and well looked after plants. It was like a toy town really, a place you could feel as though the rest of the world was far away and unable to sully you. I bought myself an ice cream and walked back to the hotel, enjoying the sugar hit as I cooled down.
There was still no word from Pete, but he’d seen the last message. Two blue ticks showed on my screen again. Had his dad taken his phone off him? Was he just busy working out how to hack the system? Or was there a darker reason for his silence? Had he used the serial number to find out who Janine was. If so, he’d have done his research, and he’d surely find out that I was lying about who I was and what I wanted from him.
I’d known it was always going to be a possibility. He was the one with the technology expertise, if you can call a 17-year-old boy an expert on anything except disgusting bodily excretions. That meant I was giving up the control here, and not totally knowing how deeply he’d look into what we were doing. I hoped that he’d help me hack Janine’s house, be shocked when she dropped dead and back away from the entire thing. That was the best-case scenario. But I wasn’t naive, and I knew it was completely possible he’d figure out I was pushing for more than ‘a little shock’ and that he’d want answers from me. Or worse, want to go to the authorities.
That was the trouble with asking someone else for help. On balance, I still felt that it was better asking an idiotic kid for help, using some light manipulation to get what I wanted and claiming ignorance about the eventual outcome than it would have been to hire someone ‘professional’ who would be able to hold it over me forever. That kind of person would have researched everything they could’ve about me, and used it against me forever. Probably to demand an exorbitant amount of money. If Pete was the bored and slightly sad teenager I thought he was, then it shouldn’t be too hard to keep him quiet.
But where the fuck was he? It was 9 p.m. by the time I’d showered and got ready to go and eat and still nothing. I messaged again, asking if I’d upset him, and saying that I missed him. Message me back, I’m sooo bored here and need you xx.
I ate dinner at a touristy bar with photos of the food on the menu. Always a fatal mistake, but I was distracted and in a hurry to get the night over and done with. A wilted salad and two glasses of wine later, I paid the bill and went back to my hotel. On the way, I texted Lacey asking who’d be in the house tomorrow, explaining that it would be good to identify who was speaking so that we could understand the audio we got. She replied quickly, saying that she’d be off from 9 a.m. until 6 p.m., when she’d be back at the flat. When she was off, a girl came in the morning to make Janine’s breakfast and quickly tidy the house, but there shouldn’t be anyone else around until the evening. Madame likes to spend Thursdays at home relaxing. She says it’s nice to have her house to herself. Sometimes she gets her nails done, or her hairdresser comes. I tidy everything up again when I get back.
It didn’t seem like Janine needed to designate a full day every week to relax when her entire life revolved around that singular pursuit, but it kept her at home where I wanted her, so I was glad that she prioritised self-care so rigorously.
I got into bed at 11 p.m., which was ridiculously early for me. The morning people won the battle long ago, but I still resisted their pull, normally going to bed at 2 a.m. and rising no earlier than 11 a.m. whenever possible. But I was keen to get the night over and done with, like a child who is waiting for Santa and forces sleep only so that they can wake up to presents. But I couldn’t sleep. Pete hadn’t sent me a message in sixteen hours, and I lay in bed with the dawning realisation that if he didn’t get in touch soon, I would have no chance to kill Janine tomorrow. And after tomorrow, this particular plan would be unworkable and I’d have to start at the beginning. I tried listening to a calming soundtrack of waves hitting a beach, but it only made me need to pee. I did the breathing exercises I’d taught myself years before, but they couldn’t quash the butterflies bouncing around somewhere below my ribcage. At 2 a.m., I got up and recorded a voice message for Pete. I went up an octave, in order to sound younger than I was, and adopted a suitably shaky tone.