The Murder Wall

The lights dimmed as the Metro train rattled into the tunnel. The woman seemed terrified, but he was just marvelling at human nature. She couldn’t help herself watching his reflection in the black window, checking on the intensity of his gaze. He looked down at the Evening Chronicle someone had left on the seat and reread the article, his temper boiling in his gut.

A murder enquiry continues following the discovery of a body at a prestigious Quayside apartment in the early hours of Friday morning. A police press official said that, until the results of a post-mortem are known, they are unable to confirm how the man died. We are led to believe that he has been identified. The Senior Investigating Officer, Detective Chief Inspector Kate Daniels, today appealed for witnesses to contact the Murder Investigation Team.

His agitation grew. He’d expected a visit by now and yet the silly cow was still pussyfooting around asking the public for help. How much bloody help did she need? What kind of SIO was she anyhow?

The woman’s heart raced. What did he say? Was he talking to her? He was probably one of them psychopaths she’d read about. He’d probably escaped from some mental institution, mistaken her for someone else.

Tightening her grip on her bag, she pulled her skirt down over her knees and looked around her. The carriage was busy. All young people. Heading out? Heading home? Laughing. Texting. Paying her no attention. Trains unnerved her. They always had. The Metro especially. She wished she’d left earlier and paid extra for a cab. The creep had been staring at her since the last stop, his eyes sliding over her, taking in every detail of her face, each button on her jacket, the cut of her skirt, her legs, her shoes. She didn’t want to think about why he was examining her so closely, sizing her up, or what his intentions were. He was filthy and unshaven. Probably drunk or high on drugs, she thought. And yet, he had a presence, an awareness about him that suggested otherwise.

Avoiding his gaze, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. But looking out of the window didn’t help. For the second time in as many weeks, a power failure had plunged the north of the city into total darkness, creating chaos and cutting off twenty thousand homes. As the train sped along there were no references outside, no familiar landmarks, no moon, just the odd candle flickering in houses that backed on to the track.

The Metro slowed. He looked at her, a sneer almost. Should she move while she had the chance? Get off? Stay put? What if he followed her? Her body was frozen to the spot, refusing to obey her instructions. Too late. A buzzer sounded. The doors were closing.

Sighing, he glanced at the paper again, an idea forming in his head. Taking a pen from his pocket, he wrote her name on the back of his hand: Detective Chief Inspector Kate Daniels. Maybe they needed to get better acquainted . . .

But for now he had only one thing on his mind. Shoving the newspaper on the floor, he slid his hand inside his pocket and grinned at the woman sitting opposite. Her face paled as he withdrew the scissors, toying with them, teasing her for a while, unchecked by anyone in the carriage.

It had taken a while, but he’d traced his next victim. He’d trace them all eventually. Shows what an education can do. Classroom dunce to computer wizard in one stretch. Sweet. Didn’t they realize he was a genius? He cut around Malik’s smiling face. Still alive, but not for long. He held the picture up to his new friend and travelling companion. Fuck her! Tomorrow morning he’d be on his way. Crack of dawn. All the more special because it was a Sunday.