not a celebrity of any kind, so why are you so interested in my business? Nobody cares, but you … you just won’t let this go.”
Unfazed by my outburst, this Phil dickhead opens up his little pocketbook to check something, and then glances back up at me. “How’re the sessions going with Dr. Townsend? Is she helping you come to terms with the fact that you were the obsession of a serial killer?” My heartbeat accelerates to new levels at the mention of Tony. When my eyes widen, he smiles. “I recently took a holiday to a place called Chesterfield. Are you familiar with it?”
Fisting my hands together, I try to will my ever-beating heart to calm, but it’s no use. Chesterfield is where Tony took me to his parents’ house. How does he know about that? Stupid question, as he’s a journalist. No doubt this Phil has investigated Tony to the letter and has got more details on him then I ever learnt in my brief spell at unfortunately knowing him.
“A bit remote, but a beautiful place to live, don’t you think? I met a really nice girl there named Betty. She’s a nurse at St. Francis Hospital in Midlothian, which is around twenty minutes away from Tony’s parents’ house.”
The words are coming out of his mouth, but my heart is currently drumming in my ears, making them difficult to hear. Betty was one of the nurses who tended to me after my attack. What does this all mean?
“Nice girl, Betty. A bit loose-tongued after a few vodka tonics, though.”
Finally, my feet find movement, and I commence my brisk walk. “Leave me alone,” I simply retort, hoping that he will but knowing he won’t.
“Ana, all I want is to have a little chat … get your side of the story. Some truly deranged women out there think you’re the true killer, considering you drove such a great looking man to kill all those poor women. I just want to set the record straight for them.”
The words fuck off are on the tip of my tongue, but I will them down. I am in too much shock to process all at of this at once. Women hate me? Women actually think I drove a poor, love-sick man to killing lots of girls? Do women actually think that shit?!
“Come on, Ana. Tell me your story so I can print it out there for the world to see. I’m pretty sure you want to get your side across. Well, this is your perfect opportunity.”
Quickening my pace, I shout at him to leave me alone before I’m practically sprinting back towards Jessie’s apartment. My mind races, and my heart still thunders as I push myself farther and farther away. After a couple of minutes, I take the opportunity to glance back, finding that he’s not there anymore. The relief of this should be palpable, but it’s not. I thought all this was over, but this asshole obviously has nothing better to do but harass me now. I guess two months isn’t enough to forget about that monster. No doubt media of all kinds have been covering his story, investigating his life and what possibly drove him to do what he did, but I had been completely engrossed in Jake all that time, that I’d failed to notice. Maybe all that time while Jake was handling me with kid gloves, he’d been shielding me from the bad, outside world. In a sense, that angers me, because I was completely unprepared for that near assault I just endured.
Betty.
Her name suddenly flits through my mind, causing me pain. She seemed like such a lovely, kind nurse. How much of my private, confidential information did she divulge? No doubt if I told Jake he would quite rightly report her and get her fired. She had no right, drink or no drink, to be talking to anyone about my business.
Frustration and anger soon turn to fear as that once nagging thought that Alan may have seen my photo in the newspaper comes flooding back to haunt me. If he’s looking and names are flying around the internet and all over social media, it wouldn’t take a genius to come across something that may disclose my whereabouts. It’s clear to me now more than ever that I need to put on my big girl panties and stop shielding myself from the rest of the world. I may not like what I find when I start digging, but in order