Page 88 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

If my dad were here, I know he’d welcome Alex with open arms, because this was beyond anything anyone had ever done for me before. It was selfless, thoughtful, the loveliest thing to do. My chest swelled with emotion and tears welled in my eyes, but I wasn’t sad. I was overcome with warmth and happiness.

I stepped back inside my room and placed the rose and the note on the bed. Then I turned and left the room, closing the door carefully behind me.

Feeling like I was walking on air, I wandered down the corridor towards the stairs. I felt myself glide down the staircase, and once I reached the bottom, I headed for the dining room, where I could already hear the gentle clatter of cutlery as Alex ate his breakfast.

“Good morning,” I said as I walked into the room, and Alex looked up at me, beaming.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to him.

“Yes, thank you. And thank you for the rose and note. That was such a lovely thing to do. It was really touching.”

“I hope you didn’t think it was corny.” He grimaced a little, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip.

“Not at all. It was so thoughtful. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. Except for dad, of course.”

His satisfied smile made my body tingle, and I wondered whether I’d be able to eat anything on an over-excited stomach.

“Well, I wanted to put a smile on your face, but I’m afraid it might not last when I show you today’s newspaper.”

My stomach twisted at the realisation that my bubble of contentment was about to burst. It hadn’t lasted very long.

“Oh, God,” I gasped. “What’s happened?”

He put his coffee cup down and reached for a newspaper that was on the table beside him. Then he handed it to me, but I could already see the headline on the front page, and instantly, I felt sick.

Echo’s Editor-in-Chief Murdered in Cold Blood

“Holy fuck. Is this his work?” I asked, holding the newspaper as I looked across at Alex. “Did he do this?”

Alex shrugged then shook his head.

“I’ve no idea, but to be honest, after reading what happened, I don’t think it’s his M.O. And he’s not here anymore to commit an act like that. Emma, Gold had a hell of a lot of enemies. It could be anyone. It could be a random killing.”

It wasn’t a random killing.

My gut told me as much.

Fighting nausea, I started to read the article, and when I did, the details made my stomach turn.

Renowned Editor-in-Chief of the Merivale Echo, Stephen Gold, aged sixty-four, was found brutally murdered late last night.

His body was discovered in the Livery Street canal by a passing dog walker. Early indications suggest he was strangled. His body had been dumped in the canal, and both his ankles and wrists were tied with rope. He also had a plastic bag tied over his head, and his tongue had been cut out.

Police are appealing for any witnesses to come forward who may have been in the vicinity of Livery Street that evening.

Stephen Gold was a highly respected...

I couldn’t read on.

I’d seen enough.

“It was him. I’d bet any money on it.” I took a deep breath. “And he’ll come for me next.”

Alex stood up, came straight over to me and crouched down beside my chair. I tried to hide the fact that my hands were shaking as I stared back at him.

“He’s not coming for you. I told you. That’s over now.” He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Please, Emma. Trust me. You’re safe with me. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.