Ruby is still in Bodmin, waiting for a train to Penzance. It’s been delayed, but the announcement board doesn’t say when it will arrive, sending her anxiety through the roof. She’ll have to stay on the concourse, with a CCTV camera peering down from above. They always make her feel edgy, even with her baseball cap shading her face. She buys a cappuccino, a chocolate bar and the Daily Mail, then looks for a place to hide. She shelters behind a pillar, shielded at last from the camera’s prying eyes. The cut on her ribcage still burns, even now it’s coated in ointment, and dressed with a bandage.
She takes a bite of chocolate before opening the paper. There’s no mention of Annie Hardwick, just a maudlin piece about Steve Pullen, listing the medals he won during his long police career. There’s even a statement from his wife, begging for evidence to explain why her husband was killed so mercilessly. Whoever murdered such a heroic man should rot in jail, according to her. The statement sends a pulse of guilt through Ruby’s system. She’s not just killing the officers who sent her dad to prison. The ripple effect will hurt their families, when they’ve done nothing wrong, but it can’t be helped. She soon puts the thought aside, remembering that her father’s plan will deliver natural justice. Those officers stole the one person she loved; everyone they love is now tainted by their actions.
Ruby flicks through the pages until she’s confronted by a picture of her father, his face haggard. The headline trumpets: UK’S WORST GANGLORD CLINGS TO LIFE. He’s defying doctor’s expectations by hanging on, despite his terminal diagnosis. She reads on: Craig Travis has made a living will, to have his ashes sprinkled on the River Thames, but his victims’ relatives are fighting it. Many of his victims were thrown into the Thames, their bodies never found. Is it right that a vicious killer’s ashes should pollute London’s great waterway? Take part in our poll below. Share your views on whether Britain’s worst mass murderer should have his last wish granted.
‘Bastards, the lot of you,’ Ruby mutters under her breath.
She drops the paper into the nearest bin, but the story has soured her mood. The chocolate in her mouth tastes too sweet, so she ditches the rest of the bar too. She keeps her arms folded tight across her chest as the announcement board flickers, trying to quell her nerves about killing her next target.