Page 109 of My Killer Blind Date

The van rolls to a stop, Liam and I lock eyes, and I stop moving, waiting for the motion and noise to return. The van moves forward again.

Liam nods frantically.

‘How long do the ovens take to heat up again?’ Zoe is saying.

Oh fuck. So we’re headed to Anderson & Pulaski. Images of being shoved alive into the oven crowd my brain, followed by a very twisted image of the kind of painting Zoe might make with my ashes, but I shove them back. We are not dying. Not tonight.

My hands are now inside my bag. My range of motion is so limited – and I have to be so careful not to make noise. My fingers brush a pack of tissues. A tube of lip balm. My keys, which dear God I cannot rattle right now. And then – boom. The knife. And then the van is pulling to a stop.

I mouth knife to Liam.

‘We’re here,’ mutters Zoe. ‘Party time. How are we moving these two?’

‘You should have killed them back at the house.’ Devin sounds stressed. ‘They’d be easier to move if they were dead.’

‘I wasn’t ready!’ hisses Zoe. ‘I told you! She was my best friend. This is kind of a big deal for me. Anyway, the drugs should keep them both sedated until I can get them into the retort.’

The knife is still closed. There’s no time to open it and try to saw myself free, but I scoot my butt so it’s level with my hands and shove the knife into my back pocket.

‘Zoe, are you sure you can’t just let them go?’ says Devin, his tone frustrated. ‘We dump them in the parking lot. Leave them here for someone to find tomorrow. You and I drive through the night, cross into Mexico by tomorrow evening—’

‘But all my stuff! My final painting! I can’t leave it!’

‘Zoe, you heard the sirens. Margot isn’t stupid. She told someone where she was going, and now they’re all over my property.’ Devin makes a huff of frustration. ‘They’re going to find Brooke, and then it’s game over for both of us. We shouldn’t even be here. We’ll only be safe when we’re out of the country. We need to act smart, Zoe, and leave now.’

Please say yes, I silently pray. Please dump us here and drive away.

‘No,’ Zoe says, her tone stubborn. ‘I have to kill them. They’re the only people who really know who I am. As long as they’re alive, someone will be after me. I can’t live like that, Deedee. Running, hiding – trapped, cornered like a fucking animal! Is that the life you want for me? After everything I’ve survived?’

‘No …’ Devin sounds defeated, hollowed out. ‘This has to be the last time. OK? I can’t do this any more. I love you and I’d do anything for you. I have done everything for you, because I promised I would when we were sixteen and I don’t fucking go back on a promise. But I’m telling you, this is my limit. I didn’t sign up to watch people die. It’s fucked, Zoe. It’s really fucked.’

Zoe sighs. ‘But you’ll help me, right? One last time?’

‘I’ll help you get them inside. The rest is up to you.’

Shhh, mouths Liam, and goes limp. We both need to play dead until I can get my hands free.

Devin gets out first. Zoe follows more slowly with her crutches. I close my eyes and lie motionless as Devin flings the van doors open in the back. Then he’s getting a gurney from the van parked next to us and setting it up.

Oh God. I’m about to be loaded on to a gurney like a corpse.

‘Get her first, the PI second,’ says Zoe. Devin pulls on my bound feet, dragging me forward and loading me on to the stretcher. He doesn’t bother strapping me to the gurney, but wheels me over the bumpy pavement. He pauses to unlock the back door. Inside the funeral home, I hear him punch the button for the elevator, and then down we go, to the basement, and I don’t have to peek to know that he’s wheeling me into the crematory. It smells like cleaning fluid and ash.

It takes all my willpower to keep my eyes closed as Devin grabs me under the arms and slides me on to the metal table where we prep bodies to roll into the oven. Then, he presses a button – probably to preheat the retort.

Fuck, this is getting real.

The second he leaves with the gurney, I open my eyes, push on my feet to get my butt in the air, and start reaching for the knife in my back pocket, grunting and thrashing and not even trying to be quiet. It’s a lot harder than it should be. I wiggle on to my side and manage to snap the knife open, nicking my palm. Fuck, now there’s blood, and it’s slippery, and it’s making this even harder. Gritting my teeth, I try to position the knife so that I can saw through the zip tie. Come on, Margot! People do this in movies all the time! I’m whimpering as I go, moving the knife up and down, but I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.

I hear a distant whoosh. The elevator. They’re coming back. And Liam is counting on me.

‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, moving the knife against the plastic.

‘Is the oven preheating?’ Zoe’s voice.

The plastic tie pops open. My hands are free – but there’s no time to do my feet. Quickly, I roll on to my back, the knife hidden underneath me, and close my eyes. If only there was a way to communicate with Liam.

I hear the gurney wheels squeaking as they roll in with him.