Making a Killing by Cara Hunter

Author:Cara Hunter [Hunter, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2025-01-28T17:00:00+00:00

So this is like the 12-step thing, right? ’Fessing up and making amends? OK, maybe not quite like that but I get the picture. Sandy’s big on that – the amends thing. Sandy’s my therapist. I found her online. Her website has all this stuff about ‘Helping Teens And Families Lead Happier Lives’ by ‘Addressing Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs)’ and ‘Achieving Positive Behaviors Through Solution-Centered Therapies’. She’s from the US, as if that wasn’t blindingly obvious. I mean, what is it with Americans and capital letters? I reckoned the nightmares I was having were a slam-dunk for an Adverse Childhood Experience, so I filled out the form and pressed Send. She got back to me the following day. It was 2022 but everything was still on Zoom, which it would have been anyway, given she was in Connecticut, but even without face-to-face meetings it cost a lot more than we could really afford. So I told K I’d get a Saturday job, and she said that would really help. But I knew the real reason she was so keen was because she’d be able to spend the whole day with Finn with me out of the way.

Finn as in the first Love Interest she’d had in all the time we’d been together. Podgy bloke with a loud laugh and crap taste in pretty much everything from music to pizza (Hawaiian – is that even a food group?). He was a geography teacher, FFS. Enough said. I called him Finn Mc-Totally-Uncool, which she frowned at, saying wasn’t it cultural appropriation and I said like, duh, I’m supposed to be Irish.

She’d sat me down when she first started seeing him, saying she had something to tell me – as if I hadn’t known she’d been on Tinder for weeks, but I pretended to be surprised. She said it was just casual, that whatever happened he’d never come between us, that I was still the centre of her world, and I said fine, whatever, she deserved to be happy (and bloody well get laid too, though of course I didn’t say that). So every Saturday I’d go off into Belfast saying I was working in Lidl, knowing she’d never set foot in there, and then spent the whole time in the park or the museums or the library. As for where I was actually getting the money, well, that was something else she didn’t need to know.

It was useful, that library. She’d always drummed into me that there were Three Things I Could Never Do – 1) Anything that might get me arrested, even something crap like speeding or shoplifting, because if I did they’d get my DNA and that would be that. 2) Go on social media. And 3) Ever ever google anything about my past. As if I hadn’t worked all that out long before. But the library – that was different. No one could trace what I was looking up there.

It started out just as curiosity. Nosing from afar. Turned out Nanxi was back in Boston doing math stuff and winning scholarships (zero surprises there).

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