There was a warped soundscape in my ears. My own emergency siren.
My mouth was dry, my pulse tachy and erratic.
I didn’t want to ask Donovan the next question but somehow I did. ‘Why did you take my blood?’
‘Oh, please. We both know the answer to that.’
But I didn’t. Truly, I didn’t.
Or was that a lie I was telling myself? Was the actual truth that I just didn’t want to face up to something horrendous?
I gazed at the cupboard door again and the swirling in my head became louder, more shrill.
Had he taken blood from Bethany, too, I wondered? Were my blood and my toothbrush – what? Trophies to him?
My fear cranked up by several notches.
I clenched my fist around the keys in my hand, feeling the metal teeth dig deep into my flesh, a vibrant red flashing at the corners of my vision in tandem with my auditory alarm.
Donovan spread his arms at his sides in a mock-placatory gesture. ‘I don’t have them any more, if that helps.’
‘I don’t—? What did—?’
But again I stopped. Because again it hit me.
‘The courier,’ I said. ‘You gave them to the courier.’
Because the courier was the only person who’d called at the house since Donovan had been here. He’d given Donovan Sam’s keys. And Donovan had taken my blood and toothbrush not long before the courier had arrived.
Did that mean Donovan had summoned the courier, or had it all been prearranged, pre-planned?
I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
‘You gave my blood and my toothbrush to the courier,’ I said, staring into the middle distance, as if the answer to what was happening to me was hidden somewhere in this room. ‘That’s why you were down there so long.’
Donovan watched me struggling to order my thoughts, then he seemed to grow impatient and he twisted at the waist and spun on his heels, flinging out his arms and arching his eyebrows as if he was appraising the space we were in.
‘You want a lot of money for this place, am I right?’
‘What?’
‘I’m saying, you’re asking a lot of money for this place.’
‘Is that what this is about? The house?’
‘No, you’re not listening to me. I’m making an analogy. I’m painting you a picture.’ He reached out and spread his fingers on the sloping ceiling above him. ‘You told me you’ve done most of the renovation work yourself, yes?’
‘We did,’ I said quietly, confused.
‘Right. And let’s say I wanted to buy this place. Let’s imagine for just a moment that’s really why I came here today. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I have to tell you. A house in London. This borough. Wow, that’s a major investment. So even if I liked it and made an offer that you and Sam could accept – and, cards on the table, I really do like what you and Sam have done here – I’d still want to do some checks before my lawyers were ready to exchange and complete. You understand?’
‘No.’
‘I’m talking about a survey. A thorough one. I’d want my surveyor to check the foundations of this place, search for subsidence, damp, dry rot.’ He stamped on the floor as if to demonstrate. ‘I’d want them to tell me about anything I should be concerned by. And suppose my surveyor gives me the thumbs-up, well then I’d want my lawyer to do some additional digging. I’d want them to check the title deeds. I’d want to be certain I was really buying what I thought I was buying.’
He shrugged and looked at me again, as if I really should be getting it by now.
‘Buyer beware,’ he said. ‘It’s only prudent, right? And you wouldn’t have a problem with that. You’re the seller. It’s what you would expect.
‘Well, it’s the same with me. I don’t want any mistakes, either. I want to be absolutely certain I’m getting exactly what I came here for today. I want my survey to ring all the bells. Hence your toothbrush. Hence your blood. I’m getting an exact DNA match.’