Copycat

by Diane Saxon

  He kept his elbows off the table as he took a slice of lemon drizzle cake and forked it into his mouth, almost melting with pleasure as his taste buds popped. ‘Oh God.’ He closed his eyes and swallowed. As he opened them again, she watched him from across the rickety little table. ‘That has to be the best cake – ever.’

  She giggled as she took up her own fork and speared the sliver of chocolate cake she’d sliced off. As she opened her mouth to take a bite, a rush of heat built, and his instant hard-on turned painful. Unexpected, he puffed out a breath, surprised at how fast the sight of her long elegant throat swallowing had him lathered up.

  He clattered his fork onto the delicate china plate and swiped up his cup to take a long gulp of the hot tea, letting it scorch its way down his throat to put out the fire inside.

  A fine sweat broke out across his upper lip as he lowered the teacup back onto the saucer and searched his mind for something to say to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to strip her naked right there and force her to take him into her mouth. The fucking bitch. She was probably dying for it too. She would be dying for it when he got hold of her. Literally.

  He sliced off more cake and shoved it in his mouth, remembering to chew before he swallowed.

  ‘So, tell me, Ellie, what have you got planned for the rest of the day?’

  She turned her head to stare out of the window at the grey drizzle, the white column of her neck perfectly displayed for him to stroke his gaze over and contemplate getting his hands around.

  She screwed up her nose, her rosebud of a mouth tightening. ‘I have work at 2 p.m.’

  ‘Ah, yes. You’re a nurse, aren’t you?’ Clever girl, she’d obviously incorporated an exit plan into their meeting in case it went tits-up. Coffee, cake, chat. Leave.

  A tiny speck of chocolate sat at the corner of her lips and he found he couldn’t take his gaze from it. He swallowed the next forkful of cake and choked as it lodged in his throat. He took another swift swallow of his tea, furious as she grinned at him. Stupid cow. If they were alone, he’d grab that long, lacklustre hair and smack her face into the table until her nose bled and her perfect lip split open to pour blood…

  He rammed on the brakes of his wild imaginings and rooted in his pocket for a cotton handkerchief just to distract himself. That line of thought was destructive. He needed to keep a grip on reality, not ruin things by getting ahead of himself. It was essential that he keep a lid on the roiling anger vibrating just below the surface.

  He shot her a smile. ‘It’s my day off.’

  ‘You’re a telephone engineer?’

  ‘Yeah. Spend most of my days climbing trees and houses.’

  ‘Every boy’s dream, I imagine.’ She laughed and he took another forkful of cake and looked out of the window.

  ‘Not today though. It’s my day off.’ He repeated so he could direct the conversation the way he wanted it to go. He had a plan he needed to stick to. It required control. He felt it slip back into place.

  ‘Nice.’ She finished off her cake and laid the fork on the little plate. ‘What will you do with yourself for the rest of the day?’

  ‘Oh, something exciting and glamorous, I imagine.’ She grinned again and had him leaning in closer as he scooped up the last piece of his cake, holding it on his fork for a moment while he continued to talk. ‘I’ll do a shop in Aldi for my mum, take it around to her.’ He popped the last morsel into his mouth and chewed. Then he nudged the right button, knowing as a nurse her primary one would be compassion. ‘She had a hip replacement a couple of weeks ago, so I check up on her all the time.’ The sympathy flitting over her face had him elaborating to draw her in. ‘It hasn’t been easy on her.’ He pushed his empty plate into the centre of the table and sat back, resting one hand on the table in front of him. ‘We lost my dad just before Christmas.’ He held his breath and nodded in response to the hand she patted on her chest, kept his voice low and intimate. ‘Cancer.’

  Her eyes turned to liquid.

  He could feed her any kind of shit he wanted, and she’d fall for it. Gullible woman. ‘It’s been a long, hard journey.’ He didn’t know who his dad was. His mother died of an overdose twenty years previously and he couldn’t give a flying fuck. He’d hated the old prostitute. She’d sold his arse before he was even ten. Left him bleeding in the gutter while she collected her money from the wrinkled old shit who’d just sodomised him.

  He rubbed his fingers over his lips, tamping down the fury that threatened to bubble up, hearing his counsellor’s voice in his head. ‘Calm. Keep calm and you’ll always be in control.’ Control was exactly the position he favoured at present.

  She placed her hand on top of his and gave it a light squeeze. His heart stumbled and the breath stuck in the back of his throat. He barely resisted the temptation to whip his hand from under hers as her soft compassion struck a chord of fear in him. The human touch almost too much to bear. Panic sliced through him, the need to escape uppermost in his mind.

  As his phone bleeped to indicate an incoming message, he jerked, taking the opportunity to slide his hand out from under hers. He grabbed the phone and stared at the screen. An email advertising 20 per cent off if he ordered walking boots before midnight. He blew out a breath and raised his gaze to meet hers, composing his face into a pained expression.

  ‘I’m so sorry. It’s my mum. She needs me.’

  Disappointment rippled over Ellie’s face, but she smoothed it out into a sympathetic smile. ‘No worries.’

  He knew he should reach out and touch her, reciprocate the contact, but he still hadn’t got his breathing under control. Instead, he garnered a smile and pushed a little enthusiasm into his voice. ‘It would be great to meet again. Perhaps for dinner next time?’

  She nodded her enthusiasm as he came to his feet. ‘That would be lovely.’ Her gaze caught his and held on.

  ‘Yeah. Why don’t you message me, and we’ll arrange a date?’

  As he opened the door to the coffee shop, he slipped his hood back up and sauntered down the road, his chest vibrating with a low chuckle as he stuck her with the bill.

  11

  Tuesday 4 February, 12:50 hrs

  He melted into the shadow of the doorway to watch Ellie walk by as she left the coffee shop, her face tight with disappointment. He grinned. Priceless. She’d not even seen it coming, his timing was perfection, leaving her to pay. Magical. It may not have been as much as he’d liked, but she’d fallen for the whole ruse. Sucker.

  He wouldn’t block her number on his phone yet, in case things didn’t quite go his way and he needed to backtrack, although he was confident they would as he slipped from the doorway and followed her down the street from a distance.

  The bright green little Fiat 500 suited her. He crossed over the road to the far side and lengthened his stride to get to his car before she drove away. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned as she slammed the door behind her and started the engine.

  As he slipped into the car he’d borrowed from his housemate in the scruffy little two bedroom flat he rented, he hit the send button on the message he’d composed while he’d waited for her to pay the bill and leave the coffee shop.

  OMG, I can’t believe I just left without paying the bill. I’m so, so sorry. I was so struck by your beauty, I lost my brain. I hope you’re going to let me take you for that dinner I promised to make up for my completely asinine behaviour?

  He turned the key and waited for the old engine to turn over, hoping the bloody thing wouldn’t die on him. The engine rattled to life and he revved her up, waiting to see which way Ellie went.

  As he tracked her, he pushed a CD into the player and waited for Robbie Williams to bang out ‘Angels’ so he could sing along. About the only song he knew word for word. It was all he’d had in prison with no one who cared enough to send him anything more contemporary.

  He kept his distance along the Queensway dual carriageway and then pulled off at Ketley Interchange to curve around the
bend which took them up the hill to the Avenues. A slash of unease turned his stomach. It was where he came from and not somewhere he cared to revisit in a hurry.

  Her little car dashed along the narrow lanes and turned right, pulling up outside an old white cottage that looked out of place in the Avenues, as though someone had lifted it from farmland and deposited it right in the middle of a 1960s dilapidated housing estate.

  He cruised past and stopped a little further along the street, did a three point turn and settled next to the kerb along from her house.

  Information gathering was the objective. Did she live alone? With others? Mother? Father? Child? Did she have animals? A cat? A bastard dog? He hated those little fuckers. There was no alarm box on the outside of the building. Chances were she didn’t have one.

  Heavy eyelids drooped down. It didn’t matter. She’d be a while if she wasn’t at work until 2 p.m. She had two hours to get ready and drive in.

  He hunkered down into the seat and closed his eyes. Forty minutes was all he needed to refresh himself. His eyes drifted closed and the sweet smell of Ellie’s hair soothed over him, taking him further down into his fantasies.

  12

  Tuesday 4 February, 14:15 hrs

  Used to breaking and entering, he slipped in through the back door of Ellie’s small cottage with ease. He’d thought he might have to jimmy the lock, but the stupid little cow had left the spare key under a small garden ornament. It had taken him a few goes to find the right one, but he’d known it would be there. The ugly little gargoyle she probably found cute.

  Predictable.

  He snicked the door closed behind him and listened for any sound or movement. Nothing. No electronic beep to indicate an alarm.

  Loser that she was, he’d suspected she lived alone. She’d not called over her shoulder as she slipped out the front door.

  He wiped his shoes on the mat just inside the door and then checked them for evidence of dirt. He didn’t need to take them off, it would be a dead giveaway if he left them by the back door and she returned.

  In a check for evidence of a solitary life, he opened cupboards one after the other. A four place dinner service. Two ‘nice’ wine glasses. Sweet little herb pots on her windowsill.

  No dining table.

  He sneaked a peek in her fridge. Nothing you’d feed a grown man. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber. He picked out a clear plastic bag and curled his lip at the contents before he dropped the bag on a different shelf with practised deliberateness. Green shit. No one in their right minds should eat it.

  He scanned the next shelf down. Greek fucking yoghurt.

  He reached inside to pull out the packet of gnocchi.

  Yeah, she was a loner.

  He placed it back on the shelf above the one he’d taken it from again, just to mess with her mind. He let the door close, but not quite all the way, leaving it open a crack so the warmth would get in to spoil the food and turn the milk. If he could just see her face when she found it after a twelve hour shift. Confusion. Had she done it? Had someone moved things about?

  Next, he opened a cupboard beside the fridge.

  The woman had a shitload of individual pods for a coffee machine.

  He leaned in, took out a macchiato latte and fed the two pods into the machine, sliding a cutesy mug underneath. The loud smacking the machine made would have woken the dead and he figured if anyone was going to investigate, they would have by now.

  He weighed the short bladed knife in his pocket for reassurance.

  With the mug cradled in his hands, he wandered through the house, tidied a couple of items of crockery she’d left in the living room, rearranged her flowers.

  When he made his way up the stairs, he paused to draw in the scent of the house. A feminine, fresh smell, like she’d just washed the bedding.

  On the short landing, he plucked the bamboo sticks from the diffuser and made his way into the bathroom to throw them in the bin. He held them suspended for a moment, and then took them back. It was too much for a first-time visit. The changes needed to be subtle. Nothing so overt that she called the police in the first instance. Just enough to spook her. Make her wonder if she was losing her mind.

  He sipped his macchiato as he scanned the small, neatly put together bedroom, reluctant to leave. Warm hues of burnished gold and cream invited him in. He placed his mug on the bedside table and crawled onto the soft duvet covering a double bed. He laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, ecstasy and comfort combining. He'd already had a nap in his car, but his insomnia was bad. He’d not slept properly at night for weeks. His muscles went weak as he breathed in her sweet scent and relaxed.

  When he opened his eyes, the light had changed and dread slammed in for one long moment as he reared up and took a look around. He checked his watch. He’d been asleep for just over two hours.

  Panic set in as he leapt from the bed. His original plan had been to scope out the house, move a couple of items, get the hell out of there.

  Already he’d failed as the light turned to dusk and he could barely see in the small cottage.

  He grabbed the cup of cold coffee and strode for the door. Instinct had him sliding to a halt. He turned to look at the rumpled covers on the bed and backtracked, heart thrumming in his chest. He needed to get out. He’d spent too long. Someone would have noticed his car, if it was even still there and hadn’t been nicked by one of the locals.

  He glanced at his watch again. Calm. He needed to be calm. He still had just under an hour to get to his parole officer. Plenty of time. But if he was late, she’d give him a bollocking and a mark against him. She’d watch him too closely, the stupid cow.

  The duvet cover took little to tug into place and then he made for the door. He paused in the bathroom doorway and couldn’t resist peering into the laundry basket.

  Old habits die hard and despite his retraining in prison, the temptation proved too much. He dipped his hand into the basket, hesitated. He drew a long breath, then another as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. The excitement coursing through his veins ran hot and unchecked for several minutes and he whipped a black pair of knickers from the basket, barely pausing before he held them to his face and breathed in her scent.

  What could it matter, a little diversion from the main plan?

  He inhaled the sheer female aroma, his eyelids fluttering as pure lust raced through him, igniting the heat in his belly so it coursed down to harden his dick.

  Voices outside cut through his delirium and his eyes sprang open. The kids would be coming home from school, those of them that went. He needed to shuffle off and make himself invisible before someone noticed.

  Reluctant to return the knickers to the laundry basket, he wadded them into a ball and slipped them into his pocket. He tried to ignore the fact that he’d wank over them later just so his heartbeat could return to normal, but the sly temptation of them in his pocket warmed his flesh and had a spark flickering through his veins.

  Annoyed with himself, he almost left the small mug behind but noticed it just in time, swiped it up and made for the stairs.

  The light had turned dull and miserly again as he made his way through the kitchen. He threw the remaining coffee down the sink and made quick work of rinsing the mug, trying to remember exactly where it had been placed on the shelf.

  His lips stretched in a straight smile. It didn’t really matter. Let the games begin. She’d soon know there was something amiss in her house. He wanted her to know, wanted her to feel his presence long before she knew he was there. Long before he killed her.

  He slipped out of her back door, pocketing her key after he’d locked it. She’d never notice it was missing. He’d have a new one cut, and by the time he returned the original the following day, she would be none the wiser. Why would she? Most people never even looked again at the emergency key kept under the mat, or a gargoyle. It cost thirty quid to buy one of those key safe things, not so very difficult for him to get into, most people us
ed pretty predictable codes, but at least it was an attempt at security.

  He grazed his fingers over her knickers as he opened the back gate, a tremble of excitement warming his blood. The things he would do with those knickers when he got back to his flat. He’d lie on his piss-poor second-hand single bed and breathe in the scent of her, while he wanked himself, sliding the silky scrap of material down his body to wrap it around his rock-hard cock.

  He peered around to make sure no one noticed him coming out. This was the kind of neighbourhood where they were all nosey bastards. He flipped up his hood and ducked his head as he rubbed the material between his fingers and the adrenaline kicked up once more, sending his nerves spiralling in ecstasy.

  The bitch of a parole officer would be waiting for him and she’d never know the hard-on he sported wasn’t for her but for the little red-haired nurse whose knickers he had in his pocket.

  13

  Tuesday 4 February, 17:45 hrs

  ‘He didn’t do it.’ Conviction carried through in her voice.

  ‘He didn’t do it,’ Mason agreed. ‘Wanker maybe, but Ray Horrobin is not a murderer.’

  Jenna twined fingers through her thick hair and yanked on her roots, frustration grabbing her by the throat. She couldn’t agree more, but where the hell did that leave them?

  Ray Horrobin may have been in shock, but he’d wasted several hours of their time when they could have been pursuing other avenues. They needed to start again. Back to basics.

  Jenna bumped the heel of her hand against the incident room door, making it swing open. She found members of the team awaiting the debrief, Acting Inspector Evans, PC Donna McGuire, Sergeant Chris Bennett, the inseparable Salter and Wainwright. So many more familiar faces from the extended team who’d been drafted in from other shifts when Jenna’s sister, Fliss, had been kidnapped. PCs Dodd, Scanlan and Massey, the dedicated PC Sabrina Wallis, and the overly cocky PC Gardner.