The doctor’s eyes snapped open as the television silenced below. Downstairs, Mandy’s chatter filled the air. He stiffened as he realised she was not alone. But she had to be. He had been standing in her room for a good twenty minutes, and she had not opened the door to anybody. Creeping to the window, he peered outside. Cars lined the street; empty shells devoid of life on this frost-stricken night. Nothing resembling the police presence he expected to see. He pressed his ear to the bedroom door, listening to the voice downstairs. Like a game of Jenga, any deviation from the plan could bring it tumbling down around him. His annoyance subsided as he realised that only one set of footsteps was climbing the stairs. It was only then that he understood that she was on the phone. Forsaking the cramped wardrobe, the doctor concealed his presence behind the bedroom door.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, hovering outside on the landing. ‘You have a good time.’ Soft laughter filled the air. ‘What’s there to feel guilty about? Those tickets cost a fortune. Don’t go spoiling it now.’ She giggled. ‘Well, OK, if you want to make it up to me I won’t try to stop you. Oh, and Aidan? I might not be here when you get back, I’ve got to pop down to the police station tomorrow.’ She breathed a sigh. ‘No, nothing to worry about. I’ll fill you in when you get back.’
The doctor’s heart was galloping now, a thin layer of sweat coating his brow.
Humming, she entered the bedroom, lightly pushing open the door. The room remained in darkness, lit only by the glow of the street lights outside.
The doctor’s nose pressed against the other side of the door. Muscles tensed, he prepared to pounce. He would have to act quickly. The amount of chloroform he had soaked into the cloth would ensure her silence for some time to come.
He could take her now, wash her in the bath and tie her to the bed, just as he had with Sharon. He would work through the night to make her realise her full potential. A smile touched his lips as he imagined what was to come.
Mandy stood at her dressing table, failing to notice the doctor’s form in the mirror behind her. He held his breath as he slid his hand over the chloroform cloth in his pocket. It was time to tear it from its bag and put her to sleep. A rush of excitement flooded his senses but creeping forward, he realised something was wrong.
As the woman spun around, he realised it was not Mandy at all. Cold liquid slapped against his skin and, for one horrific moment, he relived the acid attack all over again. He blinked furiously, staggering back as the unwelcome substance stung his eyes. But as he caught sight of the bottle in her hand he could see it was not acid, but nail varnish remover. Yes, it would sting, but there was no long-lasting damage to be had. Setting his jaw tight, he launched himself at her, only to receive a sharp punch to the face.
‘Hands on your head, you’re under arrest!’ the woman bellowed, her voice hard and commanding.
‘You’re not Mandy,’ the doctor said, swallowing the blood leaking from his nose. Steadying himself, he reached for the scalpel in his pocket.
‘I’m the sergeant of the police officer that you killed. Drop the knife. NOW!’
The words had barely left her mouth before he lunged at her with the blade.