Scaredy cat Read Free

potential, than Holland or McEvoy yet understood.
    Then of course there was the why. Always the why. And, as always, Tom Thorne didn't give a flying fuck about it. He would confront it if it presented itself. He would grab it with both hands if he could catch the killer with it. But he didn't care. At least, not about whether the man he was after had ever been given a bicycle as a child... McEvoy was shifting on the chair next to him. She had finished looking through her file and he could sense that she had something to say.
    'What is it, Sarah?'
    'This is horrible, no question.., and the stuff with the kid, it's very fucking nasty, but I still can't quite see why it's us. As opposed to anybody else. I mean, how do we know she wasn't killed by someone she knew? There were no signs of forced entry, it might have been a boyfriend or an ex-boyfriend.., so, why us? Sir.'
    Thorne looked towards Brigstocke who, with the timing of an expert, lobbed another sheaf of photographs into the middle of the table.
    Holland casually reached out to take a photo. 'I was thinking the same thing. I don't understand what makes--' He stopped as he took in the image of the woman on her back, her mouth open, her eyes bulging and bloodied. The woman lying among the rubbish bags in a cold dark street. The woman who was not Carol Garner. It was a dramatic gesture and meant to be. Brigstocke wanted his team fired up. He wanted them shocked, motivated, and passionate. He certainly had their attention.
    It was Thorne who explained exactly what they were up against.
    'What makes this different, Holland' - he looked at McEvoy - 'what makes it us, is that he did it again.'
    Now, it was as if the previous silence had been a cacophony. Thorne could hear nothing but the distant echo of his own voice and the hiss of the adrenaline fizzing through his bloodstream. Brigstocke and Hendricks sat frozen, heads bowed. Holland and McEvoy exchanged a horrified glance.
    'It's the reason we know he followed Carol Garner from Euston station. Because as soon as he'd finished killing her, that same day, he went to King's Cross. He went to a different station, found another woman, and did it all over again.'
    Karen, it happened again.
    Please, let me tell you what happened. I couldn't bear it if you thought badly of me. I know that you can't possibly forgive or condone what I've done.., what I'm doing, but I know that you'll understand. I've always thought that if I had the chance to explain myself to you, confide in you, that you would be the one person who would truly understand. You always saw me for what I was. You always knew what I thought about you. I could see it in that shy smile.
    You knew that you had a power over me, didn't you, but I was never angry with you because of it. Part of me enjoyed the teasing. I wanted to be the one you teased. It felt like I was needed anyway. It just made you more attractive to me, Karen . . .
    Jesus, though. Jesus. I did it again. What I was told. She was alone and frightened of nothing. I could tell by the way she was walking when I followed her out of the station. Not a cocky fearlessness, just a sort of trust. She saw the good in everyone, I could tell that. It was dark and she couldn't see how weak and vile I was. There was no fear in her eyes when I spoke to her.
    She knew though, what was going to happen, when she saw the fear in mine.
    As soon as she knew, she struggled, but she wasn't strong enough. She was less than half my size, Karen, and I just had to wait for her to fade a little. She was scratching and spitting and I couldn't look at her. And when it was over, I couldn't bear it that her face, which had been so open and warm like yours, now looked like something behind glass, or frozen for a long time inside a block of ice, and l was the one who had made it like that. And I was hard, Karen. Down there. While I was doing it, and again afterwards, while I was hiding her. I stayed excited until the hissing in my head began