The chase was intense. He knew exactly where they’d be going and when. He knew because he’d practically planned it for them.
He knew, for instance, that they would’ve traced his call to the phone box on Allerdale Road. He also knew that they’d know from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t just a random passer-by who’d discovered a dead body by complete chance. They’d know it was him. They’d also know that to get to Allerdale Road in time, he would’ve had to have gone by foot, through the hole in the fence by the bowls club. The most exciting thing about it was that he wasn’t trying to wrong-foot them; he was helping them out as the chase just wouldn’t be the same if they were running around in circles like headless chickens.
After making the call, he’d headed straight down Colby Gardens, an adjacent road which he knew had plenty of houses with low walls, cars parked on drives and other places he could hide quickly if needed. He’d only had one car come down the road, and he’d ducked behind what looked from its shape like a classic American car, which was up on bricks and covered by a tarpaulin. The passing car was a Toyota Yaris — clearly not a police car, but he couldn’t afford to be anything less than completely cautious.
He knew where most of the town’s CCTV coverage was, and he knew the best route to take to avoid it. He now had to get to Alexandra Square, a small outdoor shopping precinct, which was the location for his next body. Fortunately for him, he’d already done most of the spadework. It was a case of having to, knowing that the police would be hot on his tail after the last one, knowing that he’d be due to kill again before the sun rose.
The trick was to avoid commercial premises. These were the ones which were most likely to have CCTV cameras on the front of them. These days, plenty of houses did too, although his route was taking him past areas which had far fewer than anywhere else. Oddly, the CCTV coverage in Alexandra Square was minimal. There were three entrances into the square, and only one had CCTV coverage — mainly due to the nightclub on the corner which had seen its fair share of late-night trouble spilling out into the square over the years. His route would keep him well away from the eagle-eye lens and ensure that he’d get away easily enough afterwards, too.
He’d taken great care to disguise himself, too, although that wouldn’t matter in the long run. Once he’d completed his canon, it was up to them to find him in their own good time. If they managed it inside a hundred and thirty years they’d be one up on the Victorian Whitechapel police.
His pace was quick, but not so quick as to attract attention. Just quick enough to be sure that no-one was going to be suddenly gaining behind him, allowing him instead to concentrate on looking forward, giving him plenty of time to duck away should someone appear in the distance.
The walk was just under a mile in total. He estimated it’d take him sixteen minutes. His advantage was that nobody knew where he was going. They’d have officers in the vicinity, and he’d heard the cars heading towards the phone box, but, as he’d predicted, they were using Allerdale Road, Meadow Hill Lane and the other rat runs. The quiet, unassuming residential streets that ran alongside were perfectly safe in comparison.
He waited quietly at the corner of Colby Gardens in order to try and ascertain the direction of the sirens and car engine noises. He needed to cross the next road, walk about twenty yards further down and disappear down Peter’s Street, a road which would take him the next step towards Alexandra Square and consisted entirely of houses with low front walls — perfect for diving behind.
Then it was down past the old folks’ home and through the winding alleyway which would take him out perilously close to the police station. The wait on the next corner was longer, seeing as he had to cross the main road that passed right across the high street a hundred yards or so further down — the busy crossroads that defined Mildenheath. A lone person seen walking the streets tonight would be apprehended without fail, and this particular area was by far the most likely place for it to happen.
He took a deep breath and stood up from behind the parked car he’d been crouched behind. He marched across the road, not bothering to look — he’d already done that from his hiding place — his heart thumping in his chest as he walked quickly and quietly, keeping away from the road, before ducking down Albert Street, where he exhaled and allowed himself to start breathing again.
A quick right turn and he was on Ship Street, just mere seconds away from his next site. He’d made it here unscathed, and he allowed himself a faint smirk as he approached the place he’d been hiding number four for the past few hours.
As he neared Alexandra Square, he noticed a young, fresh-faced police constable in full uniform, his fluorescent jacket glowing under the street light in the car park. He held his breath and ducked inside the entranceway to a block of flats, the low wall allowing him to crouch and peer around the edge. The copper was heading off in the direction of the main road he’d just crossed. A few seconds longer and he’d be able to get to the site and do what he needed to do.
He’d need to be quick. That much he knew. The copper must’ve literally walked right across his site only seconds earlier, and he’d be sure to come back again at some point soon. Time was of the essence if he was to stick to his plan.
Less than a minute later, he’d opened the door and peered in at the face of his next victim.
‘Ah, Marla. Thank you for waiting for me. Very kind.’