He stood in the doorway of a butcher’s that had just closed for the day. He wore a thick padded coat, his hood up. He blended into the shadows.
He had a perfect view of the bookshop from here. It was nearly quarter past five. She would be leaving soon.
It’s her own fault, he thought. She should have kept her nose out of it. Too late now.
Simon says never tell.
He wondered what Polina would think if she knew he was here now, contemplating extreme violence. What a difference that would make to her opinion of him.
The bookshop lights winked out. End of a long day. End of a short life.
She came out onto the street. Turned her back to him while she locked up.
He readied himself, unsure as to which way she would go, where she had parked her car. He watched as she waited for a gap in the traffic and then hurried across. He backed deeper into the darkness, but she walked away from him. He emerged. Hands deep in pockets, he followed.
She turned down a narrow one-way street. He picked up the pace until he rounded the corner. She was just metres ahead. She had taken out her phone and was chatting away, oblivious to her surroundings. One car went past and then there was emptiness. 159He had expected a long pursuit, but this was perfect. He wasn’t going to get a better opportunity.
Simon says keep our secrets.
He pulled the length of metal pipe from his coat, closed the gap just as she reached the mouth of an alleyway.
He struck. Side of the head. Her phone shattered and pieces spat across the pavement. She went down, whimpered. He struck again. Stillness.
He raised the pipe once more, ready to crack her skull open like an egg …
And then he hesitated.
He looked around. No witnesses. His intention had been to end it here, but now other ideas were tugging at him, familiar urges wresting control. She wasn’t really his type, but this was too good an opportunity to squander.
He dragged her into the alleyway and hid her still body behind some bins. Then he went to fetch his vehicle.
He hadn’t finished with her yet.
Simon says let’s have some fun.
* * *
She came to, her head pulsating. She brought up a hand and found warm, sticky wetness on her scalp. She wondered where she was, what had happened. She had been walking to her car …
This wasn’t the street. There were no sounds, no lights.
‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Hello?’ Her words echoed in the blackness.
She sat up, and her skull felt ready to explode. She wanted to vomit.
‘Hello? Is anyone here? I need help.’
It was cold here, so cold. And yet not a whisper of a breeze.
A click. A brief spark of light. Then another click and the 160fire took hold. A lighter. It was brought to a candle and its glow reached out to her.
Her confusion multiplied. Four walls and a floor that seemed to slope at a ridiculous angle. What kind of room—?
Wait. Not a room. A swimming pool. She was at the bottom of an empty swimming pool.
Click. A new flame. More light. Why these candles?
‘Hey!’ she called out. ‘What’s going on? Why have you brought me here?’
As she turned to follow the figure moving to the next candle, she slid her hand across the bottom of the pool. Her fingers found something. She picked it up, held it close to her face to scrutinise it in the gloom.
It was a false fingernail, decorated with a red rose.
That was when the panic took over and she started screaming.