The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,57

old – in their thirties, at least. Later, when I was talking to the police, I realised they didn’t look like Jehovahs. They looked like they worked on Wall Street. Like those rich assholes who’ve all moved to Williamsburg recently, you know, in those fancy apartments by the river.’

‘And they said what? “Protect one, protect all”?’

‘Yeah.’ He leaned forward. ‘That sounds like some kind of cult shit, doesn’t it?’

It certainly chimed with what I knew so far.

‘Have you seen them since?’

‘Nope.’ He held up the gun. ‘But if those motherfuckers turn up again I’m gonna send them to meet their ancestors.’

He didn’t sound very convincing.

‘Do you know which detective is in charge of the investigation into Brandon’s murder?’

‘Yeah. Big guy. Treated me pretty nice, for a cop. What was his name? Oh yeah. Krugman, that was it. Detective Krugman.’

Chapter 25

I stood outside Jesse’s apartment building, paralysed by indecision. I tried to call Callum but it went straight to voicemail. I left a message, asking him to call me, then began to walk back towards Williamsburg, staying on busy streets where I figured I would be safe. When I had to cross the road, I hurried, making sure there were other people crossing at the same time. I didn’t go anywhere near the park.

Halfway there, two guys wearing suits and Ray-Bans came towards me along the street. My pulse accelerated and I stepped back into a shop doorway. I pulled the backpack off my shoulder and stuck my hand inside, scrambling to find the knife I’d taken from Callum’s apartment. I found it and got ready to defend myself. I swallowed, breathing hard, braced to fight.

The two men walked past, laughing at a shared joke.

I blew out a long, relieved breath and stood in the doorway for a minute, waiting for the adrenaline to leave my system. I felt like I was turning into a new version of myself. One who lived in a world where violence was expected. Where anyone who passed by could be part of this secret, threatening alternate reality. The old me wanted to run back to Callum’s and hide. But the new me was determined to keep going, to keep looking.

And as I carried on towards the house where Ruth and I had stayed – drawn back there once again – I realised how foolish I had been to feel envious or paranoid about Ruth’s impending success and my relative failure. Fame, money, recognition – none of it was important. All that mattered was that I found Ruth and made sure she was safe.

I stood outside the Cunninghams’ house and thought, It can’t be a coincidence. Jack’s death had to be related to Eden and the cult and the men who had stabbed Brandon.

But how? How could it . . .

An idea came to me.

I had previously assumed that Eden and the cult had decided to recruit Ruth because they had seen her work and found out, through social media, that she was in New York. But that explanation had never quite sat right with me. It involved too much luck.

A better explanation could be this: Jack or Mona had told someone that an up-and-coming actress was coming to house-sit for them. That someone had looked Ruth up and decided, for whatever reason, that she would make a perfect recruit. So they sent in Eden to check her out.

It was the most likely explanation I could think of right now.

I needed to speak to Mona.

I know you probably don’t want to see anyone at the moment, I texted. But could we meet?

I only had to wait a minute for a response.

I hung around the reception of the Lotte New York Palace, underdressed and out of place in my shorts and T-shirt. The concierge gave me a look that Sally Klay would have been proud of. In fact, this place reminded me of the cruise ship, full of wealthy older people, and I wondered why Mona had chosen to stay here. Perhaps temporarily living somewhere so grand and otherworldly helped provide a kind of cushion; a way of barricading herself from the ugly side of urban life. Or maybe it was simply that she was rich, and this was the kind of place where she felt comfortable. She had, after all, chosen to go on a cruise.

I didn’t have to wait long. Mona appeared, walking over from the lifts like someone who was in physical pain but trying not to show it, like the Little Mermaid when