Eighteen Kisses (6 page)

‘Who’s Calum?’ I asked. I was interested because his name was on my list, along with Amy and Andrew’s.

‘He lives across the road; he’s one of my best friends. He said he thought he saw Kayla in the house, but he wasn’t sure. Somebody else said maybe she was off with Luke, this guy from her class that she was supposedly seeing, although she hadn’t told me or Hazel about it.’

‘Would she usually share stuff like that with you?’ I asked. Luke wasn’t one of the people I had to talk to, so he must have had an alibi.

‘Well, probably not with me, but with Hazel, yeah. Maybe she was embarrassed or something. I mean, he’s nice, but not really that hot. I rang him and there was no answer. I calmed down a bit then because I thought they were probably off … well, you know. But he rang me back half an hour later and said he hadn’t seen her since he’d left the party. I finally got through to Amy, who told me she’d got a headache and had gone home with Andrew. She said they’d left Kayla at the top of the road. That’s when everybody started to freak out and we went looking for her. We thought maybe she’d fallen on the way home and hurt herself. But there was no sign of her anywhere. Dad and Anna were staying in a hotel down the country and we didn’t want to worry them, but by six a.m. there was still no sign of her and we’d called everybody she knows, so we decided to ring Dad and then we rang the Gardai.’

Libby’s voice started to quiver and she looked like she was holding back tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘This must be hard for you, having to relive it.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s fine.’

I felt really bad, but I wanted to get a clear picture of the night of the party.

‘So Kayla walked back by herself?’ I asked, as gently as possible.

‘Yeah,’ said Libby. ‘Dad and Anna were furious at Amy; they still are. But we always used to walk home alone – nothing ever happens around here, like, you can see our door from the top of the road. It was a bit crap of Amy to leave Kayla alone on her birthday, but I don’t blame her like everyone else does. Anybody can make a mistake – we all do things we regret; she shouldn’t be punished forever just for one bad decision.’

I admired Libby’s forgiveness – I wasn’t sure I’d be so understanding.

‘And anyway,’ said Libby. ‘It was probably Andrew’s idea to leave her, not Amy’s.’

I got the feeling Libby wasn’t a fan of his.

‘I love Kayla,’ she carried on. ‘I really do. But she is just way too trusting. If some random guy started talking to her, she’d probably stop and chat to him, that’s just what she’s like. And she’s so small and slight too; if some psycho was watching her and just grabbed her, then she wouldn’t stand a chance.’ Libby took another sip from her tea. ‘You heard about the serial killer, right?’

‘No …’ I said, feeling a shiver run down my back.

‘So many women have gone missing without a trace here in the last ten years that some people think a serial killer is kidnapping them. They reckon he’s keeping them for a while before … before murdering them. All these kidnappings
have taken place in nice suburbs like this one, so we think that maybe this guy has Kayla. I mean, she didn’t run away – she wouldn’t just take off; she wouldn’t do anything like that. And it doesn’t look like she had an accident because there is literally no trace of her. We found nothing.’

She really thought it was an outsider. The thought that somebody from inside the circle might have hurt Kayla didn’t seem to occur to her. I trusted Matt Lawlor’s judgement and was prepared to accept that her killer may be in the video, even if the thought of it was almost too much to bear. But what if he was wrong? What if this
was
the work of a serial killer? I made a mental note to ask Matt more about it. I didn’t know how he was able to do this, how he dealt with victims’ families all the time, how he looked at the pain and helplessness on their faces. I admired him for it, but I didn’t envy him at all. I hated to think how Libby was going to react if he was right, what she would do if she learned that the killer wasn’t a stranger. But I guess it wasn’t my job to worry about that; it was my job to help Kayla move on.

‘Would you mind if I took a look at Kayla’s room?’ I said. I wanted to see if I could sense her there. Last year Beth had appeared in places that were important to her, so I thought maybe Kayla might visit her bedroom. If she was anything like me, she’d probably spent a lot of time there.

‘Yeah, sure, it’s this way,’ said Libby.

I followed her up the stairs. Even though the house was beautiful, there was an eerie stillness in the air, like something wasn’t quite right. It felt like it was suspended in time, just waiting for Kayla to come back. We walked down the
corridor, then up a narrow spiral staircase. The steps creaked under my feet and I felt a little bit dizzy, so I held on to the black banister to steady myself.

‘She has the attic room,’ said Libby. ‘Coolest room in the house.’

It was very cool. It was huge, and one wall was completely covered in Polaroid photographs. Photographs of Kayla, of her friends, scenery, bands, random things. Some of them were really quite striking. There was a picture of a white butterfly on a purple thistle, its slightly blurred wings suggesting that it had either just landed, or was about to take off.

‘It’s exactly as she left it,’ said Libby. ‘Anna told us not to touch anything. Not that I would – I hardly ever come up here.’

I followed Libby into the centre of the room. It was different to the rest of the house; its bright colours and organized chaos contrasted with the pastel shades and sparseness of the other rooms. There were similarities between it and my own bedroom – the giant piles of CDs, the posters on the walls, the dressing table covered with make-up supplies. It was unsettling to think that this kind of thing could happen to someone close to my age, someone like me. Libby started to look really uncomfortable. ‘I actually … I don’t think I can be in here now. It’s too upsetting,’ she said. ‘You’re welcome to look around, take as long as you need, but please don’t touch anything. I don’t mind, but Anna would probably notice and she’d freak out.’

‘No, of course. I won’t touch anything.’ I said. ‘Thanks for letting me do this.’

‘I’ll be downstairs,’ said Libby. ‘If you need anything, just shout.’

The room was really tidy, but I guess Kayla would have cleaned it before the party. There was a bookshelf in the corner, holding mostly photography and poetry books, and a few magazines, including some copies of
Electric
. On the bedside table was a Polaroid camera – just like the one from my dream – and a Holga camera too, the plastic back held on with sticky tape. On the glass-topped table there was a Canon camera, a tripod, a camera bag and a couple of extra lenses. Beside a pink Victorian-style doll’s house was a stack of photo albums. Kayla must have really liked photography. There was also a laptop, its case covered with bumper stickers. I was tempted to open it, but Libby did say not to touch anything, and I didn’t want to betray her trust.

I walked around the room again, taking in all the details. I didn’t feel Kayla’s presence there though. The room actually felt calmer than the others, and I definitely didn’t sense her spirit there.

When I arrived back in the kitchen, Libby was leaning over one of her textbooks, her head resting in her hand.

‘What are you studying in college?’ I asked.

She jumped. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you come back in … er, Medicine.’

‘Oh, wow, where?’ I said.

‘Trinity …’

‘Cool.’

‘Did you … did you see anything when you were up there? Do you know what might have happened to her?’ she asked.

‘Well, I don’t really work like that. It’ll probably be a while before I have anything to report.’

‘Oh yeah, of course. Sorry,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Actually, do you have something of Kayla’s that I could borrow?’ I said. ‘A piece of jewellery, maybe? It might help me connect with her more easily.’ I wanted to take Ger’s advice and ask, even if she refused.

‘Yeah, of course, wait there and I’ll get you something. I’m sure Anna won’t mind if it’s going to help find her.’ I was so relieved she’d said yes.

As I waited in the kitchen, I looked down at the refill pad on the table. The pages were filled with notes, and in the margins were doodles of hearts everywhere – big hearts, tiny hearts, hearts with arrows through them and hearts broken in two.

‘Here you go,’ said Libby, handing me a necklace with a silver star-shaped pendant. ‘It was one of her favourites. She used to wear it a lot.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, popping it into my bag. ‘I’ll make sure to bring it back when I’m finished.’

‘No problem. Thanks for calling over. Like I said, we really appreciate it.’ Libby led me to the door and I said goodbye. I wasn’t sorry to be leaving – I could sense the sadness in every corner of that house.

I walked up the road, taking a look back before I turned the corner. Libby waved from the doorway, where she stood holding her mobile and smoking a cigarette. I took the list out of my bag along with a pen, and put a tick beside her name. One down, seven to go.

‘Hello, love,’ said Gran as I came into the kitchen. ‘Have fun at Hannah’s?’ She gave me a warm smile.

‘Yep,’ I said. Since she just assumed that’s where I’d been, I didn’t correct her.

I was so tired, as my visit to Kayla’s had been very draining, but when I sat down at the table I instantly felt better. It was good to be back here. I’d spent so much time in this terraced house over the years that it felt like a second home. I especially liked the kitchen, with its blue cabinets and collectable biscuit tins on the counter. And I loved how Gran was so nice to me, always stocking up on food I like and giving me pocket money and buying me stuff.

‘I’m going to Bridge in a few minutes,’ she said. ‘You can come with me if you like.’

‘Nah, I’ll just stay here,’ I said. ‘Have an early night.’

That actually wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t dreamed about Kayla since last Sunday, but I assumed that was because I’d been sleeping in Avarna. Now that I was back in Dublin, where Kayla was from, I expected to dream about her. I expected to dream about her every night for the foreseeable future. I was going to get to sleep early because I wanted to experience
the entire thing, uninterrupted. I also thought that if I went to bed early I might get some restful, dream-free sleep before it kicked in. I didn’t want to look tired on my first day at the magazine.

‘OK,’ said Gran. ‘Well, there’s a pepperoni pizza for you, if you fancy it. I better get going.’

She kissed me on the cheek and I got the familiar smell of her expensive moisturiser. She used to let me put on a tiny bit when I was younger, and then I’d climb into her bed and watch the countdown on MTV while she read. When I fell asleep, my grandad would carry me into my own room and kiss me on the forehead before he left.

‘I really like your hair like that,’ she said as she went out of the door.

‘Thanks, Gran!’ I said. I liked my new hair too, mainly because it helped me look older than I was.

She left, and the silence that descended on the house made me feel kind of uneasy. My grandad died three years ago, and since then my gran had got involved in lots of things – volunteering in a local charity shop and taking up new hobbies. I think it helped her cope, helped fill the silence.

I took the star-shaped necklace from my satchel and put it on the table. I wondered if it would help me to connect with Kayla. Last summer, after I’d found Beth’s bag, things had started to happen more quickly. I agreed with Ger, and sensed that it would be useful to have something of Kayla’s to keep close to me.

After I’d finished my dinner I watched some TV, then headed up to bed. I like the spare room in Gran’s house. It used to be Mum’s, and when we both stay over she gets to
have it, but when she’s not there then it’s all mine. It has a wooden floor and pink wallpaper. The dresser drawers are lined with scented paper and there’s an old rocking chair in the corner. It reminds me of the carefree days when I used to stay over and spend all day playing with Gran.

I unpacked the last of my stuff, including my copy of
Mastering Psychic Protection
– the book that Ger had advised me to read. This time I was going to be prepared. I wasn’t going to let headaches or panic attacks slow me down. I read some pages, but it was written in very old, complicated language and I was quite tired, so I decided to leave it for another day. I’d make sure to do what Ger had suggested though, and imagine a white light round me, protecting every part of my body. Lying there in bed, I couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling I’d had since going to Kayla’s house. Without really thinking, I leaned over, picked up my mobile and rang Nick’s number. I just wanted to hear his voice – someone comforting and familiar.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hi! How are you?’

‘Good,’ he said, his voice suggesting that he wasn’t.

‘How was practice?’ I asked, trying to sound upbeat, even though there was obviously something wrong.

‘Fine.’

I sighed. The upbeat thing obviously wasn’t working. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘You seem a bit annoyed.’

‘I’m fine,’ he said tightly. ‘I just don’t think we need to talk every night, you know? I’m kind of tired.’

‘Oh, right, yeah … sorry,’ I said, a little bit shocked.

‘Night.’

‘Night.’

He hung up and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach, that emptiness I felt when he did stuff like that.
He’s just upset
, I told myself.
He’s just upset because I’m missing his gig.
I looked down at the guitar bracelet on my wrist – a reminder that he obviously still loved me. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. It was fine and he was right, we didn’t need to talk every night. But still, I knew
I
wouldn’t have said something like that. I could feel the anger rising inside me. I snatched my phone off the locker and texted him.

There’s no need to be so moody.