He pushed open the last door on the left. A king-sized bed took up a large proportion of the floor space. A built-in wardrobe ran along one wall. On either side of the doorway leading to the en-suite bathroom were two oak chests of drawers. “It’s got a full wet-room with power shower,” he said proudly, reaching out and pulling the cord. The white tiles gleamed under the illumination from the ceiling mounted spotlights.
Mark clicked off the light. “So, what do you think?”
“Nice. You’ve made a good job of decorating the place.” She scrutinised the pile of dirty clothes lying in the corner. “There are still some hints of untidiness, though.”
Mark flashed a smile. “Nobody’s perfect. So, do you want a drink?”
Annalise shrugged. “This is going to make me sound like an old woman, but a cup of tea would be good.”
“Coming right up. Don’t let anybody say we don’t know how to have a wild time. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the lounge?”
As Mark made his way along the corridor, Annalise’s eyes swept over the clutter lying on top of the drawers. Her gaze settled on a transparent plastic bag containing what appeared to be thin black bands, partially hidden beneath a paperback. She pushed the book aside and inspected the packet more closely. At first, she didn’t recognise what she was looking at. She shook out the contents. Now that it was close up, she could see the material was made up of alternating black and gold stripes. It stretched when she pulled it between her fingers, confirming her suspicions.
Annalise frowned and stared at the floor. She knew she had no right to rummage through his things, but they had been lying there in plain sight. For a moment she debated what to do. She felt the blood rushing in her ears and exhaled loudly.
“Why don't you put some music on?” Mark called.
The sound of his voice was enough to cement her decision. She snatched up the bag and strode down the hallway. He glanced up in surprise as she stormed into the kitchen.
She shook the clear plastic then dropped it on the work surface beside the cooker. “Perhaps you could explain this?”
Mark’s face fell as he recognised the object. “Um ...”
“I don’t think hair bands are really your style. So whose are they?”
“It’s not what you're thinking. They belong to a ... a friend.”
“I take it this friend is female?”
“Well ... yes.”
“What I’d especially like to know is what they’re doing in your bedroom.”
“I was tidying up and was going to put them away. I moved them from the lounge then forget about them.”
“So who is she? One of these girls you went out for a harmless drink with?”
“Ah ... nobody you’ve met. You’ve got to believe me, it was nothing serious.”
Annalise folded her arms. “It seems you’ve been getting on fine without me. I’m going home.”
“Please, Annalise, I can explain. The girl was just an acquaintance, really. Nothing happened between us. She only came round for a chat, I promise.”
Annalise turned her focus away from him. From the corner of her eye, the colours swirling surrounding his head were still faint, but now they had taken on a dark grey hue. “You’re forgetting I have a built-in lie detector. I don’t want to hear any more. I’ll catch a taxi.”
She spun around, marched to the hall cupboard. Grabbing her coat, she undid the latch on the apartment door and hurried down the steps.
Mark’s voice came from behind her. “Annalise, wait.”
She ignored his calls and stepped outside. Shivering in the freezing night air, she pulled the woollen collar tight around her neck. She needed time alone, time to think. Without any thought of a destination, she strode past a row of parked cars.
She didn’t notice the pair of eyes tracking her every movement.
Chapter 27
Steven blinked awake. He must have dozed off. The dashboard clock indicated just after ten o’clock.
He hadn’t intended to sleep. The plan was to keep a watch on the happy couple. It seemed they were back together and had resumed their relationship as if nothing untoward had happened. That was something he couldn’t allow.
Annoyed at himself for his lack of attention, he used his fingers to clear a patch in the condensation coating the windscreen. Light blazed through the uncovered windows of the first floor flat. Somebody was still home.
Once again he asked himself what he was hoping to achieve. The waiting was mind-numbingly tedious, and to make matters worse, it was as cold as the North Pole. It always came back to the same answer; it was all about being prepared. Without preparation, mistakes would be made. Even so, it was getting late. Perhaps it was time to call it a night.
He was about to twist the key in the ignition when the front door of the building opened. A figure in a dark coat emerged and moved towards him at a fast walk. It was her. What he could see of her face was set in a frown. Maybe things weren’t so rosy between the pair after all.
He lowered himself in the seat until she had passed by, then sat up and watched her blurred image in the rearview mirror. She held a phone to her ear and spoke for a few seconds. She returned it to her handbag as she rounded the corner.
Moments later, the door swung open again. The tall figure of Mark Webber stood silhouetted in the light spilling through the doorway. He turned to one side and then the other. His face screwed up in concentration as his fingers darted across the screen of the mobile he clutched in his hand. A bubble of hatred welled in Steven’s chest as he studied the man. Mark lowered the device then barged his way back inside.
It seemed they’d had an argument. The girl was alone. Was this the chance he had been waiting for? He knew she didn’t have her own transport, so she must have been calling a taxi company or her parents. This late, it would take a quarter of an hour for a cab from one of the town centre operators to reach such a quiet area. Her house was at least twenty minutes away, so he had more than enough time to complete his task.
He hadn’t scouted this location as thoroughly as for his previous project, but surely this was serendipity at her finest. He had put in the hard work, and now a golden opportunity had dropped in his lap. With mounting excitement, he started the engine, performed a U-turn, and followed the girl’s route.
There she was. She stood on the pavement beside a six-foot high conifer hedge, huddled in the folds of the thick winter coat. The house behind was dark and showed no signs of activity. All the properties down the left side of this stretch of road were substantial and well spaced out. The opposite verge opened out onto fields. Steven drove a hundred yards further on, pulled to the side, and turned off the ignition. His eyes scanned the roadside for cameras. Satisfied at the lack of surveillance, he rummaged in the glove compartment and grabbed a pair of leather gloves together with a black balaclava. He slipped his hands into the soft calfskin material and flexed his fingers until they felt comfortable. Stuffing the headgear in the pocket of the ski jacket, he reached up to turn off the courtesy light and nudged open the door.
The girl stood with her back to him. He lowered his head and strode along the pavement. She glanced once in his direction then turned away. The jarring shrill of a ringtone broke the stillness of the night. She fumbled in her handbag and retrieved the mobile. She inspected the display, pushed a button then tossed it back in the bag.
Steven quickened his pace. He pulled the balaclava from his pocket and dragged it down over his head. The distance between them was ten yards when she turned towards him again. Now he had her full attention. She took a step backwards, shock etched across her face. He sprinted the last few paces and flung himself forwards.
***
The masked man’s arms encircled Annalise’s body. She screamed as they hit the ground together. The impact winded her. He clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the sound almost immediately. Fighting to prise loose his grasp, she forced her jaws apart and bit down hard on the gloved finger.
“Bitch,” he yelled, retracting his hand.
Annalise used the opportunity to scream again. The brief cry disintegrated as he closed his fingers around her windpipe. She tried to inhale, but the pressure had constricted her airways so that oxygen could no longer reach her lungs. Her hands beat at his chest. He twisted his head away and continued to press down.
A low growl emanated from his throat. “You should never have woken up.”
A narrowing circle of darkness closed in around the edges of her vision. Her face flushed with effort as she strained to draw in air. A rushing sound built in her ears. She knew she only had seconds of consciousness remaining.
***
Steven leered at her, his lips twisted in a manic grin. He leaned forwards to soak up her final moments. The blood fizzed in his veins. An overwhelming sense of euphoria consumed his mind as he imagined the life-force leaving her body and flowing into his own. He pressed down harder. A gurgling sound escaped from her throat. He moved his head lower, his eyes riveted on hers, waiting for that moment when the spark flickered and died.
***
Annalise tried frantically to break his grip but his hands were like the jaws of a vice. He was just too powerful. She could feel his breath, hot against her skin. He snarled as he brought his face even closer. In one last act of desperation, she ceased her efforts to open the clamp constricting her neck. Instead, she jabbed a finger into his eye socket.
Her assailant howled in pain and rocked backwards. The abrupt release of pressure allowed Annalise’s lungs to inflate, but it still felt like she was breathing through a kinked garden hose. She arched her back in an unsuccessful attempt to shrug him off. Even without his hands, his weight pinned her to the ground. The sudden movement refocused his attention. Clutching his wounded eye, he slammed a fist into the side of her head.
For a moment, Annalise’s vision greyed out from the blow. She tasted blood in her mouth. She reached out to jab at his remaining good eye, but he swatted the effort away with ease.
***
Steven drew his arm back to strike again. He hesitated as an intense beam of light cut through the darkness. Raising his gaze, he squinted into the glare. The engine sound grew louder, accompanied seconds later by the bellow of a car horn. The vehicle stopped thirty yards down the road.
Steven stared down at the girl, his lips bared back from his teeth in rage. “This isn’t over yet,” he snarled. “You haven’t seen the last of me. I’ll—”
Another blast from the horn swept away his words. The headlights continued to blaze at full beam.
She twisted her head towards the car. She didn’t see the closed knuckles hurtling at her face until it was too late.
Chapter 28
Annalise opened her eyes and blinked. Bright lights flashed painfully at the periphery of her vision. She screwed her eyelids tightly shut and turned away. She tried to raise her hands to feel the damage but found them restrained. In mounting panic, she struggled to free herself. She drew in a lungful of air and screamed. The action caused a sharp shooting pain in her jaw.
“She’s awake,” said a voice from behind her.
Annalise twisted her neck to identify the speaker. She realised she was lying on a bed of some sort. There was a pillow beneath her head. The cold breeze swept over her face. Her brain tried to make sense of her surroundings.
A man in a thick fluorescent green jacket crouched down beside her. He was in his mid-thirties. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Miss. Don’t struggle. You’re strapped to the stretcher to stop you falling off. We’ll be on our way to the hospital in a minute. Does it hurt anywhere?”
Memories of the assault came flooding back. She jerked her head from one side to the other. Her voice trembled with panic. “Where is he? Has he gone?”
“Don’t worry about that, Miss. We’re looking after you. It’s Annalise, isn’t it?”
She nodded. The movement brought a fresh wave of pain. “What’s going on?”
“Somebody attacked you.”
“I know that. I meant where’s the man who did this? Have you caught him?”
The paramedic shrugged. “I’m sorry, Miss—I mean Annalise—I can’t tell you anything about that. I believe the police are looking for him. So, any specific painful areas?”
“My neck. I couldn’t breathe.”
“There are signs of severe bruising, but that should clear up in a few days.”
“My mouth hurts too.”
“You’ve got a split lip. You may also be suffering from concussion. They’ll give you a good check over at the hospital. Is there anybody we can call?”
“My parents.” Annalise reeled off the phone number, and the paramedic scribbled the digits down.
“I’ll make sure they know where you are,” he said.
“Thanks.”
The man stood. “I’ll be back in a second. Just try to relax.” He stepped away and held a hushed conversation with another figure. The flashing blue light of the ambulance blinded her when she tried to identify the newcomer. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“Annalise, you need to stay awake.” The paramedic stood once more by her side. “There’s a policeman here who would like a word with you.”
“Okay.”
“I told him I’d rather they checked you out at Accident and Emergency first, but he was very insistent.”
“It’s fine. I’ll talk to him.”
The paramedic made a beckoning gesture. A man approached the stretcher. He had a narrow face etched with a day’s worth of stubble. His hair was thinning, bald patches on either side of his forehead framing a widow’s peak. He could have been any age between fifty and sixty. As he drew closer, Annalise spotted the creases in his grey suit and the slightly off-centre red tie. The patterns of colour swirling around his body were a pale green.
“DCI Alan Billings,” the man said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions before you leave for the hospital?”
Annalise shook her head, the action driving a red-hot needle of pain through her skull.
“Can you confirm that your name is Annalise Becker?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
Annalise gave him her parents’ address.
“Did you recognise the man who attacked you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The man’s forehead creased in a puzzled frown. “You don’t sound very sure about that.”
“He was wearing a mask, a balaclava. All I could see were his eyes and his mouth.”
“Okay. Did you notice any identifying features, perhaps a scar or something else unusual?”
“No, it was dark. I don’t remember anything like that.”
“From what direction did he come?”
“He was walking along the pavement towards me. I looked up, and there he was.”
“Did he have a car?”
“I don’t know. One did go by, but I was looking at my phone, so I couldn’t tell you what type it was. I can’t say whether he was driving it or not.”
The detective wrote something in his notepad. “What were you doing here, Miss Becker?”
“I was waiting for a taxi.”
“Yes, but why were you waiting here? You don’t live nearby.”
Annalise hesitated.
The man studied her carefully. “It’s not a difficult question, is it?”
“Um ... I was meeting with a friend.”
“What was this friend’s name and address?”
“Mark Webber. He lives in the first floor flat over there. I’m not sure about the number.”
Billings glanced up sharply, unable to hide his surprise. “Mark Webber, you say?”
“Yes.”
“The same Mark Webber whose car you crashed.”
“How do you—?”
“We have computerised records these days. When they discovered your identity, the system flashed up the details. I remember seeing hi
s name.” Billings scribbled another note. He fixed Annalise with a stare from his grey eyes. “Not much of a friend if you had to call a taxi. Why didn’t he drive you home?”
“We had an argument.”
“What was the nature of the argument?”
Annalise hesitated again. “Why is that relevant?”
Billings rubbed his palm across the stubble on his cheek. “A large proportion of crimes are committed by somebody who knows the victim. It seems that Mr Webber may have had motivation to attack you.”
“What? Mark? There’s no way it was him. I’ve been ... um ... ill for a while. It was pretty serious, so they kept me in hospital for a long time. I found something from another girl in his flat.”
“So a lovers’ tiff, then?”
Annalise nodded.
“Is there anything else useful you can tell me? We’ll take a full statement later, but it would be a big help if you have any information that might bring us closer to catching this man.”
Annalise thought for a moment. “No, there’s nothing more I can think of.”
Billings clicked the tip of the pen. “I’ll be in touch either at the hospital or when you get home.”
“Actually there was one thing. While he was attacking me, he said ... I’m trying to remember.”
The detective raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”
“It was something like, you shouldn’t have woken up.”
Billings wrote in the notebook again. “You shouldn’t have woken up?”
Annalise sighed. “That’s not quite right. Hang on. You should never have woken up. Those were his words.”
“So it appears he knew your identity, then?”
“I suppose so. Just after the car turned up, he made a threat too: about it not being over yet. You don’t think he’ll try again, do you?”
The detective cleared his throat. “Thanks for your time, Miss Becker. I’ll talk to you again in the next day or two.”
Chapter 29
The doctor, a harried-looking man in his late twenties with close-cropped black hair, pulled the curtains shut on either side of the hospital trolley. The presence of three people standing in close proximity suddenly made the small enclosure seem over-crowded. He bent over and studied the bruising around Annalise’s neck. She winced as he prodded a particularly livid area with a gloved finger.
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