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In an instant, I realise what this means. Jess wasn’t the killer. Not only that, but the real killer has caught up with us and killed her. He knows where we are. He knows where I am. He could be watching right now.
I head over to the bedroom door and listen carefully. I can’t hear anything, but I can’t take the risk. I go back to the kitchen area and grab the largest knife I can find. I notice another knife on the counter, blood congealing on its blade as it pools on the surface of the worktop. Jesus Christ. He’s stabbed her, too.
I try not to look too closely, don’t want to have to look at Jess’s lifeless body. All I feel is guilt. Guilt that I ever suspected her. Guilt that I left her, gave the killer the opportunity. I should’ve known that when push came to shove Jess wouldn’t be
