Page 124 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

I didn’t want to watch the man I loved fall apart, when there was nothing I could do to help him.

Eventually, I heard the thud as Arran’s body hit the soil at the bottom of the grave. Then Alex went back to fetch both of the guns from tonight and threw them in, too, to be buried with Arran.

With shoulders sagging, he walked over to the tree where Arran had hung his jacket. Slowly, he took it off and draped it over his arm, then when he got to the grave, he placed it carefully over his brother’s body.

“Goodnight, Arran,” Alex said quietly. “I hope you find more peace in the next life than you did in this one.”

He stood up and walked over to where I sat. Then picked up a shovel I hadn’t noticed behind the tree. He walked back to the grave and began shovelling the soil back into it, stopping every now and then to wipe his brow and sigh.

I wasn’t sure how he’d get over the trauma of having to bury his own brother, but I watched as he kept going.

“Are you okay?” I called out with concern.

“I’ll be better once this is over,” he replied, sweat pouring as he worked hard at filling the grave.

Eventually it was done, and he stood for a moment, looking down at the unmarked grave where his brother was.

“It’s over,” I heard him gasp to himself. “This has to be over.”

CHAPTER

FIFTY-TWO

EMMA

After the burial, Alex took the shovel, the camera from the tree, and the torches that were scattered around and loaded them into the boot of his car.

“I’ll come back in the morning and get rid of his car,” he told me.

We both climbed into Alex’s car, neither one of us talking, as he started the engine and drove away.

After a few minutes of driving in silence, Alex said, “I’ll need to speak to Ethan tonight, get him to wipe whatever he can from the footage online. He’ll know what to do. He always knows what to do.”

I didn’t reply.

Then, a minute later, he added, “I think I need to torch the car tomorrow. Find somewhere to burn it out. Or a lake maybe, an area of deep water where I can push it in. It needs to disappear.”

Again, I nodded dumbly as he made plans. Organising everything to avoid thinking about what’d happened.

“I’ll need to check his diary, make sure any future events are cancelled. I don’t want anyone sniffing around,” he added, and I zoned out, staring out of the window as we drove through the darkness.

I felt the warmth of his hand as he reached over to touch my leg and give me a reassuring squeeze.

“I meant what I said back there,” he said. “I love you, Emma. So much.”

“I love you too,” I replied, covering his hand with mine.

I always would.

In the days that followed, Alex kept himself busy, cancelling Arran’s appointments, events, and letting people know Arran had left the country and wouldn’t be contactable for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t hard to accept. He was an elusive figure. Him disappearing to another country was something people didn’t question. It was in keeping with his chaotic lifestyle.

Ethan had come to the house that same night, and he and Alex had locked themselves away for hours, discussing the footage and what they could do to shut it down. I don’t know if he told Ethan exactly what’d happened. I don’t know if Ethan watched the footage. But later that night, Alex assured me it had been taken care of. No one would see it. It was buried. Never to see the light of day. Just like his brother.

I don’t know what he decided to do with Arran’s car. I didn’t want to ask. He’d tied up all the loose ends and that was all I needed to know.

I didn’t want to think about that night at all, but I knew we had to. For our own sanity, we needed to have some sort of counselling to give us closure.

I brought it up to Alex one night, as we were lying in bed, holding each other. He hummed in response, which I couldn’t decide was a ‘yes’ or a ‘we’ll see’. But then he started to talk, to really open up to me, and I took the time to listen, to let him know I’d always listen. I’d always be here.