several years. He was a charmer. Always ready with a smile and a handshake, the kind of man who made everyone his best mate. I’d had to stop myself a few times from running over and declaring to the world that the man was a fake. Why could nobody look into his eyes and see the blackness that dwelled within. Strip away the trappings of success and charm and all that’s left is bleak, black evil.
I had three names on my hit list that were highlighted in red. Thick, bright, blood red, and he was the first of them. I’d known even in the moment of my deepest terror and torment, that he was different. Him and the other two. When all around were doing dreadful deeds, he stood out as a man who was motivated by cruelty and hatred. A man without humanity.
As I slipped quietly into his house, I felt a surge of excitement. I knew he would want to live. I knew he would not give up his life easily.
I was right.
His eyes never stopped searching for a chance, an opportunity to escape. He offered me money. He tried to cut a deal. He was babbling in the end. Anything he could think of, to buy me or bribe me. The bastard even offered me his daughter.
It’s always in the eyes.
Why did nobody else ever see it? Had his wife? Or was she as blind as everyone else?
He fought back tears when resignation finally found him. He knew he was going to die. He dropped the lipstick onto the carpet and looked up at me. ‘Do I get to know what I’m sorry for?’ he managed to sound indifferent, dismissive, even though his voice broke from fear. If I hadn’t hated him so much, I might have admired him for that.
I pointed the gun and then on a whim I pulled the balaclava from my head.
I saw his shock, then surprise, recognition replaced by terror. He went to lunge for me but the bullet stopped him. A perfect shot straight into the forehead.
I almost expected to see black blood ooze from him, but I knew I was being absurd.
The bastard was dead.
Matt heard her come in. He glanced at the clock beside his bed and groaned. It was almost two. He heard her shoes on the stairs. He knew she wouldn’t come into their bedroom. He was right. She went straight for the spare room and shut the door. How had it come to this? They had been happy once, hadn’t they? He thought so, but then how and when had it all gone so wrong?
Even through the wall he could hear that she was crying. And not just a few muffled tears, she was sobbing loudly. He thought about going to her, he even threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. But then he changed his mind. She wouldn’t want to see him, nor talk to him. The marriage was over, they both knew that. He couldn’t give her comfort. He couldn’t give her any of the things she wanted. Not even a baby. He tried to switch his mind off and not dwell on who or what had reduced her to tears. It certainly wasn’t him; the only emotion she had left for him was contempt.
He wrapped the quilt around him, pulled it high to his face to muffle the sounds of his failed marriage and went back to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Matt stared down at the body of Brian Chard. He knew he couldn’t deny the link any longer. Three dead bodies, James a near miss, he couldn’t shrug it off as coincidence.
Jen hurried into the room, she was flushed and excited. ‘We’ve got ‘em Gov...’
Matt knew her well enough not to get contaminated by her enthusiasm. What she probably meant was that tyre tracks from something really popular like a Ford Fiesta had been discovered. That would narrow it down to about a third of Bidbury inhabitants.
‘Guy across the road...’ she continued, ‘he runs the neighbourhood watch for the street. He has a camera pointed out of his bedroom window and straight onto this front door!’
Matt was mildly impressed. Certainly better than tyre tracks, but he had a feeling that this particular killer wasn’t going to be quite so easy to track. Each hit had shown a level of competence that could only have come
I had three names on my hit list that were highlighted in red. Thick, bright, blood red, and he was the first of them. I’d known even in the moment of my deepest terror and torment, that he was different. Him and the other two. When all around were doing dreadful deeds, he stood out as a man who was motivated by cruelty and hatred. A man without humanity.
As I slipped quietly into his house, I felt a surge of excitement. I knew he would want to live. I knew he would not give up his life easily.
I was right.
His eyes never stopped searching for a chance, an opportunity to escape. He offered me money. He tried to cut a deal. He was babbling in the end. Anything he could think of, to buy me or bribe me. The bastard even offered me his daughter.
It’s always in the eyes.
Why did nobody else ever see it? Had his wife? Or was she as blind as everyone else?
He fought back tears when resignation finally found him. He knew he was going to die. He dropped the lipstick onto the carpet and looked up at me. ‘Do I get to know what I’m sorry for?’ he managed to sound indifferent, dismissive, even though his voice broke from fear. If I hadn’t hated him so much, I might have admired him for that.
I pointed the gun and then on a whim I pulled the balaclava from my head.
I saw his shock, then surprise, recognition replaced by terror. He went to lunge for me but the bullet stopped him. A perfect shot straight into the forehead.
I almost expected to see black blood ooze from him, but I knew I was being absurd.
The bastard was dead.
Matt heard her come in. He glanced at the clock beside his bed and groaned. It was almost two. He heard her shoes on the stairs. He knew she wouldn’t come into their bedroom. He was right. She went straight for the spare room and shut the door. How had it come to this? They had been happy once, hadn’t they? He thought so, but then how and when had it all gone so wrong?
Even through the wall he could hear that she was crying. And not just a few muffled tears, she was sobbing loudly. He thought about going to her, he even threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. But then he changed his mind. She wouldn’t want to see him, nor talk to him. The marriage was over, they both knew that. He couldn’t give her comfort. He couldn’t give her any of the things she wanted. Not even a baby. He tried to switch his mind off and not dwell on who or what had reduced her to tears. It certainly wasn’t him; the only emotion she had left for him was contempt.
He wrapped the quilt around him, pulled it high to his face to muffle the sounds of his failed marriage and went back to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Matt stared down at the body of Brian Chard. He knew he couldn’t deny the link any longer. Three dead bodies, James a near miss, he couldn’t shrug it off as coincidence.
Jen hurried into the room, she was flushed and excited. ‘We’ve got ‘em Gov...’
Matt knew her well enough not to get contaminated by her enthusiasm. What she probably meant was that tyre tracks from something really popular like a Ford Fiesta had been discovered. That would narrow it down to about a third of Bidbury inhabitants.
‘Guy across the road...’ she continued, ‘he runs the neighbourhood watch for the street. He has a camera pointed out of his bedroom window and straight onto this front door!’
Matt was mildly impressed. Certainly better than tyre tracks, but he had a feeling that this particular killer wasn’t going to be quite so easy to track. Each hit had shown a level of competence that could only have come
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