

Chasing Shadows

Malevolence

B T Coll

Table of Contents

Author's Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Authors Note

The Watson Files: Malevolence is a work of fiction. Names, character and incidents are entirely fictitious.

Copyright © B T Coll

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1

Exhausted and with a definite hangover, Alice Morrison made herself another coffee, hoping that somehow the caffeine would soon kick in and she would be able to drag herself off to work. The first cup hadn't quite done the job and she was as tired now as when she first rolled out of bed. She knew that she really shouldn't have stayed out so long with her friends but she hadn't seen them for such a long time. Two or three drinks quickly increased to many more. Unable to remember what time she stumbled home; she knew it must have been in the early hours of the morning. It had been great to catch up with her friends and they had made her laugh but the hangover that she was now suffering made her wonder if it was all worth it. She hadn't been much of a drinker but over the last few months she knew herself, that she was drinking far too much alcohol for her own good.

Standing in the kitchen, propping herself up against the sink, she sipped the last of her coffee and watched as her white Persian cat, Oscar, walked over to his food bowl, sniff at his food and eat two mouthfuls before walking away again. He hadn't been eating too well for the last few days and she made a mental note to contact the vet for an appointment to get him checked out. She closed her eyes and sighed. That was all she needed a vet bill to add to the already overdue bills that were now sitting in a pile on her coffee table. Well they would all have to wait as pay day was not for another week.

Rummaging through the kitchen cabinet she found some painkillers and quickly swallowed two of the capsules before walking into the living room and throwing herself onto the sofa. She was exhausted and not just because she was out with her friends the night before. She hadn't had a good night's sleep for months now and was very tempted to jump back into bed and pull the duvet over her head. Glancing at the clock on the fireplace she let out another sigh, when she realised that she would once again be late for work and pondered on whether or not to call in sick.

The thought of jumping back into bed was more than a little appealing but the idea was quickly dismissed as she knew her manager would come down on her like a ton of bricks. She had been late far too often over the last few months and had more sick days than everyone else in the office. Her job was on the line; her manager seemed delighted in informing her of this when she had returned from her last sick leave little over two weeks before. Having already had the statutory verbal and written warnings, she knew she had to somehow find the energy to drag herself off to work otherwise she would have no work to go to. After all, the bills wouldn't pay themselves or magically disappear.

Every muscle in her body was exhausted; her head was pounding and she knew it would take something extraordinary to get her to move. This extraordinary event came in the shape of her cat, that jumped up on her knee and began throwing up the food that he had just eaten all over her lap. She let out a scream of shock and horror and the cat immediately jumped down and ran into the kitchen still retching. "My God!" she exclaimed jumping from the sofa and running into the kitchen after him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed as she bent down to have a closer look at him. The cat purred as if nothing had happened but she knew instinctively that something was wrong with him. Purring or not he had to go to the vet to get checked. She would need to make an appointment as soon as possible and would have to find the money from somewhere to pay the bill.

Rushing into the shower she cursed as she knew that she would definitely be late for work now. As the warm water sprayed over her body she suddenly felt alive again and not the shell of a human being who had the weight of the world on her shoulders. When had everything started to go wrong in her life? She knew the answer to that very question. In fact, she could pin it down to the very day. The day when her fiancée Peter had walked out on her, without any explanation or any kind of warning. In the days leading up to him leaving she knew something was wrong but put it down to pre-wedding nerves on his part. They had been together for over four years before a wedding date was set and they had even discussed finding somewhere with a garden so they could start a family.

So, returning home from work one day, to find that all his clothes and personal possessions were gone, came as a complete shock to her system. A text a few days later, informed her that he had changed his mind about the wedding and was moving to London to start a new life. The next few weeks were a complete blur but somewhere in the back of her mind she remembers calling everyone she could think of to try to find some semblance of an explanation. Didn't she deserve that after all the years they had been together? No-one had heard from him and they all seemed to be as shocked as she was about the situation.

Dressing for work, she heard the familiar thumping of loud music coming from the flat directly above. Her sleep had been broken every night with the noise coming from her upstairs neighbours. The music blared well into the early hours of the morning and she wondered how long she could put up with it before blowing a gasket and breaking their necks. It was just three months since they had moved in and to this day she had never set eyes on them. All she knew is that they liked to party and their choice in music was what she would call an acquired taste. Trance music should be outlawed in the home and only allowed at nightclubs and even then, so far away that she wouldn't be able to hear it.

Apart from the loud music from upstairs, that seemed to filter through every room in her flat, she had been experiencing nuisance telephone calls. On answering she was certain she could hear breathing but no one ever answered. Could it be Peter her ex-fiancée, too embarrassed to speak to her but wanting to make contact? One night, when the telephone rang she had even asked if it was him but still no-one replied and feeling that there must be something wrong with her telephone line reported it to Horizon, her telephone supplier, who promised an immediate investigation. A few days later they informed her that her telephone line was working perfectly and could only suggest that she changed her telephone number. She went one better than that and cancelled her contract choosing to get rid of her landline and use her mobile phone instead. After all she didn't hand her mobile number out to anyone but her closest friends.

After dressing she applied a little mascara and some face powder and lipstick before rushing out to the hall for her coat. As she buttoned it up she gave a final glance into the hall mirror and was horrified to find dark circles under her eyes. Sighing she rushed off to her bedroom, returning seconds later with her face powder and attempted to conceal the evidence of her lack of sleep. Brushing her long red hair, which seemed to curl up at the ends, she gave a last look into the mirror before shrugging her shoulders resigned to the fact that she looked the worse for wear. These last few months had taken their toll on her and she hoped upon hope that her life would change for the better soon.

Opening the front door, she glimpsed her neighbor, Mr Smith, coming up the stairs and quickly retreated back inside. She would wait until he was indoors before making a dash downstairs to her car. Standing behind the closed door listening for the familiar slamming of his front door she chastised herself for being so cowardly. After their confrontation, a few nights ago she had managed to avoid him but had not yet ridden herself of the embarrassment and pure mortification that engulfed her whenever she glimpsed him in the distance. She could feel her cheeks glowing and her heart palpitating faster with the sketchy memory of their last encounter. On that night, she had returned from work exhausted and unable to watch television due to her neighbours loud and annoying trance music, she had opened a bottle of red wine. Before she knew it, the bottle was empty and she had somehow staggered off to bed. Sometime later she was abruptly woken with frantic banging on her front door. She had tried through her drunken sleep to ignore the noise but when Mr Smith started screaming and cursing through her letterbox, she knew she had to drag herself out of bed. She had opened the door and poked her head round only to be confronted with her irate neighbour screaming that her car alarm had been screeching for over an hour. "Will you turn that bloody noise off." he demanded glaring at her. "Are you sure it's my car?" she had asked, rubbing her tired eyes. "Of course, it's your bloody car! Now turn it off. How the hell is anyone supposed to sleep in this bloody place? If it's not those idiots upstairs its bloody car alarms. I tell you this. I'm not putting up with all this noise. No way. Just you wait things will change around here." he practically screamed at her.

"I'll turn it off now." She grabbed her car keys from the table in the hall and was half out the front door when Mr Smith stopped her. He looked her up and down before saying the unforgettable and most embarrassing words that she had ever heard. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on before you go out? You have a great body young lady but this is a respectable area." At that moment, she was sure her heart had stopped beating. She remembered opening her mouth to respond but looking down at her own naked flesh left her dumbstruck. "Give me your keys and I'll turn the alarm off." Mr Smith put his hand out and she automatically dropped the keys into his outstretched hand. He turned to leave but hesitated before facing her again and telling her maybe it would be a good idea if she went back to her bed. The old man gave her a wink before skipping down the stairs and she slammed the door shut before running screaming into her bedroom.

Looking around for her pyjamas, she found them lying crumpled on the floor and vaguely remembered taking them off because she was too hot. This was a living nightmare. How could she face him again? She had been standing talking to old Mr Smith and had been completely and utterly naked. Pulling on her pyjamas, she jumped into bed and pulled the duvet over her head. Maybe this was all just a dream, a nightmare her imagination running mad, she thought but when she heard the rattle of her car keys being pushed through her letterbox, she knew this was no nightmare but was most definitely real. Oscar, that had been sleeping peacefully in the corner of her bedroom sensed her discomfort and jumped onto the bed beside her. Her now awake and very sober brain would not allow her to fall back to sleep so she sat up all night cringing with shame.

Now standing behind her front door, she glanced at her watch and realised that if she didn't make a dash for it now she would be extremely late for work. Slowly opening the front door, she scanned the area and was relieved to see the place was empty. Rushing downstairs, she was sure she could hear her neighbour's door creaking open, which sent her into a blind panic and she lost her footing and fell down the last few steps. She was now on her hands and knees and the pain shot through her like a knife. "Are you alright dear?" Mr Smith shouted from his front door. He stepped out and was about to make his way downstairs to help her, when she suddenly jumped to her feet. "I'm fine. Sorry, got to run." she grunted before hobbling out the front door.

Sitting in her car she examined her knees and saw that they were badly scraped but thankfully not bleeding. Her tights however, were ruined and reaching up under her skirt, she slipped them off before throwing them into her glove department. Cursing under her breath, she switched on the car and as she drove off wondered what kind of plausible excuse she could tell her manager. Surely falling downstairs would be good enough. After all it was the truth and her two knees were now glowing red with their sudden and unexpected impact with the cement stairs. Would it stop her from getting into trouble? As soon as she arrived at work she was summoned to the Manager's Office and given her final warning.

Detective Inspector Mike Watson turned off his alarm clock before jumping out of bed. He couldn't believe it was Monday morning again. The weekend had gone so fast. It had been a long time since he had a weekend off and now it was back to the grindstone. Susan, his wife of ten years, was still sleeping but the clattering in the kitchen told him that his two sons, Daniel and David were already out of bed and by the sound of things, making a mess in the kitchen.

"Wake up sleepy head." he whispered gently pushing at her shoulder. She groaned and half opened her eyes before whispering something which he had to strain his ears to hear. "Any chance of a cup of tea in bed, darling?" Mike laughed; she only called him darling when she wanted something. Susan was heavily pregnant and the baby was due in the next few weeks. She wanted to be spoiled and he did his best to oblige but today he was running late. "I'll put the kettle on but I have to shower before work so get your butt out of bed." he told her, patting her bottom, before rushing off for a shower.

Returning to the bedroom, he saw that Susan was still lying in bed. She heard him tutting. "OK. I'm up." she replied sleepily and as she sat up in bed she brushed her fingers through her long dark hair and found herself smiling to herself as she watched her husband get dressed.

He was struggling as usual with his tie. "Come here. Let me do that for you." she told him and he immediately obeyed. "You never were much good with ties." she said giving a sigh and he nodded in agreement. "That's why I married you babe." he told her and received a gentle slap on his arm for his comment. When she was finished he put on his jacket and went over to the mirror to comb his dark brown hair.

"Why the black suit today?" she asked rather curious over his somber appearance. "Court first and then work. I've got to look respectable." he replied picking up his wallet from the dresser and checking its contents before placing it into his trouser pocket. Susan stared at him before asking the inevitable question. The question Mike heard every morning. "Any money dear?" she asked with her hand outstretched. "How much this time? I gave you loads of dosh yesterday. What the hell are you doing with it?" he asked and immediately saw the expression on her face change. "Why do I have to beg you for money? If you left your bank card I wouldn't need to ask." she told him through gritted teeth. "That will be the day. How much do you want?" he asked opening his wallet. "Is £40 enough?" His wife nodded and he tossed the money onto the bed before walking into the kitchen to say goodbye to his sons. "You better clean that mess up before your mother sees it." he warned them, as he looked at the corn flakes and milk all over the table and floor. "See you later boys." "Bye dad." they replied in unison.

Walking towards the front door he hesitated before turning on his heels and walking back towards the bedroom. He saw that Susan was now up on her feet and immediately went over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. Rubbing her now very swollen belly he told her "Remember contact me if anything happens honey. I don't care where I am or what I'm doing; I'll be at your side in a flash." She stroked his face and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. If I need you I'll call. Now off to work with you." she said giving him a gently push. "OK. See you tonight. Now don't do too much. Get the boys to help out." he told her and with a wave of the hand was soon out the front door

Chapter 2

Alice Morrison gave a deep sigh before reaching out to switch off her computer. As she rose from her office desk she quickly adjusted her short black skirt that had moved half way up her thigh, to a more acceptable length and smoothed down the wrinkles before retrieving her handbag from under her seat. Her actions did not go unnoticed by her colleagues and within seconds they too had switched off their computers and were now making their way towards the door. They could always rely on Alice to let them know when it was time to go home. She was a much better time keeper than the old clock on the wall that was always running slow.

She reached out and lifted her black wool coat, from the hook on the wall beside the door and on doing so dropped her handbag. Bending down to retrieve it she heard tutting coming from the back of the room. She knew instinctively that the disapproving noise was coming from the direction of Helen Whyte, the Office Manager. Ignoring the urge to turn around and confront her, she simply shook her head before making her way out the front door and into the dark cold air of the city.

Walking towards the car park she wrapped herself in her warm woolen coat to keep out the cold October air that had suddenly blew at her as soon as she had left the building. She found herself shivering and swinging her handbag over her left shoulder stuffed her hands into her coat pocket as she rushed along the car park towards her car.

Helen Whyte stood looking out of the first floor window at the mass exodus of her staff and shook her head. Young ones these days were very selfish. They were out the door as soon as possible and seemed to have no commitment or loyalty to their employer whatsoever. She had offered overtime but not one of the twelve people in the office took her up on the offer. They all had all rushed out the door as soon as they saw Alice Morrison rising from her desk.

Well she had news for them and would announce tomorrow morning that they had all left work five minutes early. Counting up the lost minutes in her head, she grimaced and knew that she would ensure that the lost minutes would be paid back to the company. Glancing at her watch she decided to stay for an extra hour and do some overtime. At least she had some sense of commitment to her work.

Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the elegant flame haired figure of Alice Morrison rushing through the car park. She noticed that she was now wearing a long black coat that hid the short skirt that she had been wearing to work that day. She made a mental note to reprimand her for her skirt length. It was totally inappropriate office attire and this lack of decorum would not be tolerated. When she had dropped her handbag, she and everyone else in the office had got an eyeful of her flimsy white underwear. This was totally unacceptable and she will have more than a few words to say about the subject. That morning when the girl had arrived late for work, she had seen red and issued her with a final warning and now she had to chastise her again.

Alice glanced up at the office window as she rushed towards her car and saw her manager standing glaring out at her. She wasn't in the least surprised. She was a nosey old woman with nothing better to do, than spy on her staff. For a second she wondered if she should acknowledge her, perhaps give her a wave but decided against it. She never liked the woman and wasn't a hypocrite. She could feel the manager's eyes on her which sent a shiver down her spine.

As she disappeared from view Helen Whyte shook her head once again and tutted before returning to her desk. Her thoughts returned to the skirt incident and she reached into her desk drawer and took out a notepad to make a few notes. She would call an office meeting first thing in the morning, she decided before jotting down some notes. She wanted to plan what she wanted to discuss.

Number One on her list would be Alice Morrison. She had only been working for the accountancy firm of Foster & Michaels for little over a year and for some reason everything about the girl annoyed her. Her laissez fair attitude to work, her timekeeping, her over made up face, her short skirts and most of all her red painted talons. How was she supposed to use a computer keyboard with nails that length? No wonder her work had so many mistakes and had to be checked and double checked. She already spoke to her about the errors in her work many, many times and instead of any kind of apology or explanation for her numerous mistakes, the girl had just smiled sweetly and always promised to be more careful. Well come the morning it would be suggested to her that perhaps having her nails kept at a more suitable length would assist her with being more accurate when inputting data.

She had been working for the company for over twenty years now and was due to retire in the next few months. How would they cope without her at the helm? Who would take her place? She thought of the people working in the office and couldn't think of one person that could fill her boots. Maybe the company would promote someone from one of their other regional offices because they sure as hell couldn't promote anyone from here. She found herself laughing and quickly scanned the office to see if indeed everyone had gone.

The office was empty and so quiet now. Even the clock had stopped ticking and this quietness made the place seem quite eerie. She decided to stay for an extra hour and do some of the work that her subordinates had been offered but declined in favour of the nearest pub. She had overheard them chatting about a few drinks at the pub around the corner and by reading between the lines knew that most of them had already been there for a lunchtime tipple. She shook her head with disapproval. Young ones these days drank far too much alcohol for their own good.

Her thoughts returned to her retirement. She had already discussed with her son that she would travel down to London and stay a few months to spend time with her grandchildren Kayleigh and Jonathan, who were growing up so fast. She thought of her late husband Bert. The fact that had not lived long enough to see their grandchildren saddened her greatly.

A volley of blasts from car horns made her jump and she walked over to the window to have a look. She watched as Alice tried to manoeuvre her black Kia out of the car park and shook her head. It seemed that she was as bad a driver as she was a computer operator.

Eventually reaching the main road Alice glanced up at the office and wasn't surprised to see that the Office Manager was still at the window. The woman was a nightmare even though she looked like a little frail granny with her white curly hair and her little square glasses. When she had first started at the company, she was more than a little surprised to discover that such a small, thin and soft spoken woman could be such a bitch. She had found that out within days of starting work in the place. Shaking her head, she turned her gaze back to the road in front of her. People always say looks can be deceiving and they were right.

Helen Whyte didn't scream and shout at people, she didn't need to. It was more psychological. The little digs here and there; the tutting to show her disapproval; the little notes left on her desk to complain about something or other and worst of all the stares, that would go right through you like a knife. She was the most unfriendly, unapproachable and unpleasant manager that she had ever had the misfortune of working with. No-one in the office knew much about her and with such a high turnover of staff; no one had stuck around long enough to get to know anything about her anyway. Never once speaking of her family or whether or not she had one. If she was ever questioned about her family she would just say her private life was just that, private and then commence her legendary tutting before walking off with her nose in the air. Helen Whyte was an enigma.

Alice shivered with the knowledge that this woman had been watching when she tried to squeeze by cars to manoeuvre her way out of the car park. She felt her legs shaking and couldn't decide whether it was because of the drivers blowing their horns at her with frustration or because of the embarrassment that her unpleasant manager was watching her.

The familiar ring tone of her mobile phone made her pull in along the road. Fumbling through her coat pocket she grabbed it. "Hi" she said and instantly recognised the voice of her sister June. "Swine Flu. Oh, I'm so sorry." she said suddenly wondering if it was too late to get a flu jab. "So, you won't be up this weekend then?" she asked rather relieved but trying to hide it in her voice. June always came up to see her at least once a month. Not alone though, always with her two small children and dog in tow. Her sister lived in Manchester and as her husband often worked away, Alice knew that she was more than a little lonely. As their parents had passed away years ago the sisters always made sure they kept in constant contact. "How are Emily and Joseph?" Alice asked and was told that they too were sick. "Oh, my goodness! Do you need me to come down and help?" she asked offering her help but hoping she wouldn't be needed. Her sister told her that Jim, her husband, had taken a week off work so everything was under control. "Ok. We can meet up next month when everyone is better. Take care. I'll speak to you later. Bye." She threw the mobile onto the passenger seat and started up the car again to continue her journey home.

DI Mike Watson returned to the station after the court case. "Well what did he get?" DS George Wilson asked. On seeing the expression on the other detective's face, he knew that the answer wasn't a good one. "I'll tell you what he got. He got two years." Mike told him. "Two years for battering that poor old man to an inch of his life." he replied feeling more than a little disgusted. "Well that's life George. We catch them but we don't sentence them. Something to do with mitigating circumstances. I didn't bother waiting around to listen." he told him before throwing his jacket over the back of his chair and sitting at his desk.

"How's Melissa. Not long to go now eh?" Mike asked him. "She's fine. On maternity leave now but has made it quite clear that after the baby is born she will return to work as soon as she can. She's a bit stir crazy at the moment but I told her she's only got two weeks to go and she better make the most of her free time." he replied. "How's Susan? She must be due very soon now?" "Fine." Mike replied. "Had a few twinges now and again. I told her to take it easy. The boys are off school this week on holiday so I told her to let them help her as much as possible."

Alice Morrison closed the front door behind her and let out a huge sigh. She had stopped off at a nearby shop and on looking inside her purse decided on what to have for dinner. Her purse was getting quite empty so she would have to economise in order to survive until pay day.

Arriving home with a pizza in one hand and a much needed bottle of red wine in the other, she kicked off her shoes before making her way to the kitchen. After placing the pizza in the oven, she put a glass and the bottle of wine on the coffee table in the living room. Hanging up her coat in the hallway she glimpsed letters lying behind the door and after scooping them up, walked back into the living room and switched on the table lamp in the corner of the room. She closed the curtains before throwing herself onto the sofa. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she turned her attention to the letters and sifting through them quickly realised without opening them that they were all bills. She threw the brown envelopes onto the coffee table.

Gulping down the wine, she poured herself another glass before becoming aware of a burning smell coming from her oven. "Damn it." she screamed before rushing into the kitchen. Luckily, she had caught her pizza before it was too burned to eat and cutting off the burnt edges, placed it on a plate before slicing it into triangles. Returning to the living room, she switched on the television set before sitting back down on the sofa.

Suddenly something brushed past her legs and she let out a shriek before realising it was her cat, Oscar. She chastised herself for being so jumpy but then wondered why he hadn't run out as usual to greet her as soon as she came home. Placing her dinner plate on the sofa beside her, she bent down and picked up the cat. "Hello baby, did you miss me? Do you want your dinner?" The cat made a weird gurgling noise and started to wretch before jumping from her arms and running out of the room. Maybe it was just a fur ball but she had an instinct that it could be something more sinister. She would call the vet in the morning and make an appointment. She would have to find the money to pay the vet from somewhere, as she had a feeling that the trip to the vet would not wait until pay day.

Chapter 3

Alice Morrison awoke to find her cat dead in the hallway. She thought at first it was sleeping but knew by the way it was lying all stretched out that it was dead. Creeping up to check on him she saw that his mouth was hanging open and his tongue was flopping out of the corner of his mouth. As he stooped down to stroke him her eyes filled with tears. He had been a birthday present from Peter years ago when they had first started dating and she remembered the excitement of opening the little brown box to find the tiny ball of white fur that she had called Oscar. Since then he had been her constant companion and now he was dead. Her sadness quickly turned to guilt. Why hadn't she taken him to the vet sooner? She knew he had been off his food and acting really weird for days. She could have found the money from somewhere. Why had she waited so long? Her guilt made the sadness even more painful and she wept over the cat's body for what seemed like an eternity.

Banging on her front door startled her for a moment, until she realised it was the familiar knock of her neighbour Mr Smith. Pulling herself up from the floor she opened the front door in floods of tears and saw the look of horror on her neighbours face. "Oscar." she muttered pointing to his lifeless body. "Oh, I am sorry dear. Anything I can do?" the old man asked putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do you want me to bury him for you? I can do that, no problem dear." Alice shook her head. She needed to know why he had died. The vet would tell her. When she told Mr Smith that she intended to take her cat to the vet to find out how he died, she saw the shocked expression on his face. "What good will that do dear?" he asked. "Sure, you'll only be wasting money and it won't bring him back." Alice was adamant and her neighbour nodded showing that he understood before returning to his flat for a towel in which to wrap up the cat's body. "I'll take you dear. You're in no fit state to drive." he insisted and she nodded appreciating the fact that he had appeared just as she needed help.

Returning to the flat a short time later she thanked her neighbour but refused his offer of tea and biscuits. She had told the vet that she wanted to know what had happened to Oscar and that he was to telephone her straight away when he had any news. The vet had looked at her as if she was some type of nutcase but nodded politely and told her he would get back to her as soon as possible.

When at last the telephone rang she rushed to answer it. She listened intently to what the vet had to say. "I'm afraid Miss Morrison; your cat appears to have been poisoned." There was a long pause while she caught her breath. "Miss Morrison. Are you there?" he asked feeling more than a little concerned. He never liked giving this kind of news over the telephone but she had insisted that she wanted to be notified immediately when a cause of death was established. "But how?" she stammered. "Well it appears that your cat had ingested some rodenticide." he informed her. "What?" she practically screamed down the telephone. "Rat poison." he told her. "I know what it is but where would he get rat poison? Oscar was a house cat and never went outside." she replied getting more and more confused. "I'm sorry Miss Morrison but there is no more I can tell you." he replied. After a short pause, he said "I don't want to be insensitive but there is the matter of the bill which I'm afraid will be a little more than was quoted if we have to include cremation." She immediately became annoyed. "Yes, fine. Just post it to me." she snapped before slamming down the receiver. How she was going to pay the vet bill was a worry but she had other things on her mind. How did her cat get a hold of rat poison?

DI Watson awoke to the familiar clattering of crockery which always indicated that Susan was in a foul mood. Her moods had been all over the place the last few months. Hormones he told himself, wondering what had set off the bad mood that day. He lay in his bed listening to the chattering of his two young sons. Daniel was eight years old, fair haired like his mother and quite the little professor while David at five years old was dark haired like his father and more than a little boisterous.

The chattering which was friendly at first soon turned to screaming. He knew instinctively that it would be David causing all the trouble, he always did. Turning over onto his side, he closed his eyes deciding to let Susan sort it out. Later they would go to the park, have a picnic and tire the boys out with a game of football. That is if the plans they had made the night before would still be the same now that she seemed in a foul mood, if not he would think of something else to do with the boys.

Having two consecutive days off work these days was a miracle and he was determined to enjoy them. He sat up in bed when he heard his wife screaming at the boys about their fighting and wondered if he should sort it out. But he decided to leave it to his wife. He stretched out in the bed and yawned before turning on his side again. A few minutes more in bed and then he would rise. Maybe tomorrow he could have that game of golf that he promised himself. It had been months since he last had a game.

Chapter 4

Alice Morrison sat in her flat all day in her dressing gown, not even bothering to wash her face. She had called to say she wouldn't be into work that day as there had been an illness in the family. She didn't care that she was on her very last warning and could lose her job. Her beloved Oscar was dead. She couldn't understand how he could have eaten rat poison. Where would he have found it? Could the vet have been mistaken? Oscar was a house cat and never went outside. So, the poison had to be inside the flat.

She wondered if any rat poison had been left by the previous owner of the flat and began a frantic search that lasted for nearly two hours. Nothing was found. She wondered how he could have been poisoned. Could someone have put food laced with rat poison through her front door? Why would someone do that? What about the people upstairs could they have poisoned Oscar? Why would they have done that? She knew the police had been called several times about their loud music but that was nothing to do with her. Could they have thought it was her and wanted revenge? Could Mr Smith have poisoned her cat? He had mentioned before that he wasn't a cat lover. Why was he at the door the day Oscar died? That was a bit of a coincidence and he never did say what he wanted that day. Mr Smith was a weird kind of man and most of the neighbours avoided him but they never told her the reason. He lived alone and by the glazed look on his eyes was a bit of a drinker. However, she had no trouble with him and as far as she knew he had no trouble with her. Her head started to pound and she decided to take some painkillers before returning to bed. Oscar's death was a mystery. A mystery that she knew would most probably never be solved.

"It's my turn for a lie in." Susan told Mike nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. "Ok. OK. I'm getting up." he replied rather reluctantly. "Do you want breakfast in bed?" he asked sarcastically. "Of course, I do." she replied moving further down the bed and pulling the duvet up over her chin.

Mike threw his legs out of bed and stretched his arms above his head. He was still tired and could have done with a few more hours in bed but his pregnant wife demanded attention and he reluctantly gave in to all of her demands. He wondered how he would cope with a new baby in the house. He stretched again and made his way to the kitchen.

He was soon joined by his two sons. "What we doing today." David asked. "I don't know, ask your mother." he replied half-jokingly but really meaning it. "Well I want to go to the museum today." Daniel stated and Mike shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was visit a stuffy museum. He had seen enough of those places and racked his brains to think of some other activity for them to do but knew that Susan would already have the day all planned out. So much for a game of golf.

After breakfast, Susan informed him of her plans. A visit to Edinburgh Zoo followed by a visit to Edinburgh Castle and then a museum just to keep Daniel happy. His whole day as usual had been planned out in advance. He loved his wife's organisational abilities but was peeved that he wasn't even consulted before any decisions were made. It was the same when discussing holidays. There was no point as she had always organised everything. Sometimes he felt as if his contribution to the marriage was only one thing, money. "You shouldn't be walking about so much. Not in your condition." he told her on discovering the plans for that day. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. If I get tired I'll rest." she replied. Twenty minutes later they were all out the door.

By the time they reached home again everyone was exhausted. Edinburgh was not the easiest of places to get parked and it took him longer to park the car than to walk around the castle. Susan's ankles had started to swell and her back ached with all the trudging around. On reaching home she went straight to bed. Only a few weeks to go, she told herself, and her body would be her own again. She wondered how she would cope with a new baby in the house.

Chapter 5

Standing in front of her building, Alice Morrison looked over at her car and pondered on whether to go to work or call in sick. Her weekend had been horrendous and now it was Monday morning again. The thought of returning to bed disappeared when she remembered all the bills that she had to pay. Plus the fact, her manager Helen Whyte, would find her absence as an excuse to pay her off. The autocratic manager had been surprisingly understanding when she had said she needed a few days off to look after her ill mother. Alice hoped that she would not find out that she had lied. Her mother had in fact died over five years ago. She wracked her brain to try to remember if that fact had come up in any conversation with her colleagues but couldn't remember. There was nothing for it she had to get to work.

There had been rumours circulating that at least three people would lose their jobs due to cutbacks and she didn't want to give her manager any excuse to get rid of her. Although she had the feeling that she would be the first one to be shown the door if redundancies were announced.

It was still dark outside and the air was cold and damp. Nearing her car, that was parked under a nearby street light; she immediately saw a large dent on the side of her black Kia. Cursing she ran around the car to check the rest of the bodywork. What the hell? She clenched her fists and looked around to see if there were any suspicious looking characters lurking about. The place was empty. She felt herself begin to cry. Why was all this happening to her?

Walking down to look at the bodywork on the car in front of hers she discovered that it too had a large dent. She was immediately relieved. At least it wasn't just her that was being singled out. She chastised herself for being so paranoid. No- one was out to get her. Life was just like that at times

Looking around she saw that someone had vandalised most of the cars on her street. Two cars had their windscreens smashed and the glass was lying on the road, something she had missed rushing out of the building. Three of the cars had huge dents on their bonnets and one had the headlights broken. She needed to report this to the police and then her car insurance company.

She felt the rain beginning to fall on top of her head and as she quickly rushed to open her car door, the clouds burst. As she fumbled with her car keys, trying to open the door, the heavy rain fell on her as if to say life hasn't finished messing with you yet. Jumping into the car quickly and slamming the door shut, she shivered as the rain dripped down her face. Drying her face with a tissue she looked in the mirror to find that her so called waterproof mascara was now running down her face and sighed heavily. She could feel the tension in her body rising as she sat listening to the heavy rain pounding onto the car roof. Cursing under her breath she switched on the car radio, deciding to wait until the rain died off again before attempting to drive to work.

Fifteen minutes later she was still sitting in her car, staring up at the sky, willing the rain to stop. With no sign of the rain easing off, she looked at her watch and decided that she couldn't wait any longer. Being late for work would just annoy her manager, who in turn would make her life hell. She made a quick call to the police to report the vandalism and was informed that someone would be round to see her as soon as they could. When she informed them that she would be at work during the day they told her it would be in the evening but couldn't say which evening it would be. She had no time to call her car insurance company and decided to leave that until she had spoken to the police.

Slowly making her way out to the main road, she joined the queue of traffic on Dumbarton Road. The rain was starting to ease off now and when she looked at her watch she knew she was definitely going to be late for work.

The traffic was horrendous and ten minutes later she pulled in along the road and reached into her bag for her mobile. She would call her manager to say she was stuck in traffic and would be a bit late getting into work.

Helen Whyte was none too pleased with her excuse for her lateness and made a mental note to put her name forward for possible redundancy. The girl was a waste of space and no good to the company anyway. The office could function very well without her. When she hung up the telephone, Helen Whyte looked around the office to see who else she could put forward for redundancy. The Director had asked her personally to come up with the names of six people that they could make redundant if the need arose. The big meeting was at the end of the week and redundancy was definitely on the cards. The truth was that the company could quite easily function without half of their workforce. A point, that Helen Whyte would put forward at the much awaited meeting.

Over and hour later, Alison arrived at work to be met by curious glances from her colleagues and tutting from her manager. She found herself busier than usual at work that day and was glad when it was eventually time to go home. Helen Whyte had not said one word to her all day but the glares she received told her that she was in trouble. The form the trouble would come in, she had no idea.

By the time she left to go home the rain had become heavier again. After speaking to a few of her colleagues, she had decided to take their advice and call a few garages for quotes on fixing the dent on her car. She had thought of claiming on her car insurance but maybe if the price wasn't too steep she would take care of it herself. Her colleagues had told her that fixing it herself would probably be the best option. She had to agree with them after all she could barely afford the insurance premiums now, never mind paying more because of her claim.

The torrential rain made visibility near impossible and turning the corner into her street, she was suddenly confronted with a dark figure in front of her car. Slamming her foot on the brake, she narrowly missed hitting him. He stood in front of her glaring through the windscreen and suddenly, without warning, slammed his hands down hard on her car bonnet, which made her jump. Dressed in dark clothing, she observed, he was barely visible in the heavy rain.

All she could see was the hatred in his eyes as he glared back at her. He stood in front of her car, for what seemed like an eternity, without uttering a word. Then walking around to the driver's side he peered through the window at her and mumbled something inaudible before walking off down the street. She had thought of going after him to apologise but found that her whole body was trembling by the experience and was glad when he suddenly disappeared from sight.

He jumped into a nearby shop doorway to shelter from the heavy rain and watched as the car pulled in to park a little further down the street. He was cold, wet and now very angry. He was in a foul mood since being sacked from yet another job and now he narrowly missed being run over. "Stupid Bitch" he mumbled to himself. The headache that he had suddenly developed had now intensified until it felt like his head was about to explode and he began frantically searching through his jacket pockets for some painkillers. He cursed when he realised that he had left them at home and clenched his fists in anger.

After parking her car Alice looked down the street to see if the frightening stranger was still hanging around. Her heart was pounding so fast it seemed as if it would jump out of her chest. Her legs had now turned to jelly and she found that her hands were still shaking. Seeing that the street was deserted she jumped out and quickly locked her car before running across the road to the safety of her home, unaware that she was being watched.

Reaching home she opened her front door quickly and banged it shut behind her. Now standing with her back against the closed door, she took a few deep breaths in an attempt to try to calm down. It was no use, she was now a quivering mess and without consciously realising it, she fell to her knees in the hallway. The tears came suddenly without warning and the deep sobs she knew were nothing to do with the near accident that had occurred but for her beloved cat Oscar. A few moments later she dried her eyes and chastised herself for being such a wreck and made her way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

It didn't take her long to finish her coffee and when she was done she looked at her watch and discovered that it was still early, only 6.30pm. She now felt more relaxed. The aroma of the coffee beans seemed to engulf her with a sense of ease and the hot liquid warmed her from the inside out.

Now standing at the sink rinsing out her coffee mug, she made the decision to watch television for an hour or to and then have an early night. Walking over to the windows, she looked outside before pulling the curtains shut. She didn't see the dark figure lurking behind the tree across the street.

He stood in the heavy rain staring up at her window cursing under his breath but moved quickly when a car's headlights beamed on him, making him visible in the dark.

Emerging from the bathroom after showering, she wrapped herself in her heavy pink dressing gown before making her way back to the living room and switching on the television. The pink dressing gown was covered in large red love hearts and had been a Valentine present from her fiancée Peter, before they split up, before he walked out on her.

Standing in the hallway she brushed her hand across the love hearts and immediately thought of him. What was he doing now? Has he moved on with his life? Has he found someone else to love him? Walking over to the sofa she sat down only to suddenly hear knocking at her front door. Pulling her dressing gown tight around her body, she made her way towards the front door. "

Hello?" she shouted, wondering who on earth it could be. There were a few moments of silence before a voice spoke. "Police!" The male voice sounded gruff and with more than a little authority. Why would the police be at her door? She suddenly remembered the dent on her car. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" he asked with a voice that sounded like he meant business. She quickly opened the door ready to explain about the vandalism but as soon as the swung open she knew it was a mistake. "Remember me?" he asked pushing her back into the hallway and slamming the door shut behind him. He stood with his back to the door staring at her and laughed when he saw the puzzled look on her face.

When he was finished he returned the lipstick to his inside pocket, adjusted his leather gloves, slowly opened the front door and slipped back into the street unseen. It had not gone as smoothly as he had wanted. She had put up quite a struggle; more than he had anticipated.

Walking home he remembers the look of terror on her face as he pushed her up against the wall. How she twisted her body in an attempt to get away and how she had managed to kick him on the leg which loosened his grip. He had only lost his grip for a moment but in that moment, she could have screamed for help. Any normal person would have. He remembers her pleading. Her endless, pleading. Yes, in that moment when he lost his grip instead of screaming the stupid bitch had begged for her life. She had only succeeded in making him even angrier resulting in him becoming more violent. He punched her over and over again on her head until she fell silent. The walls in the hallway were now covered in her blood. The sight of which made him physically sick and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. Somehow, he managed to compose himself and sneak out of the building unseen. Now outside the sickness in his stomach was rising to his throat and he felt a more than a little lightheaded.

Crossing the road he quickened his step and glancing down at his black jacket, he knew her blood was there even though he couldn't see it. He would deal with his clothes when he got home. Turning the corner onto Dumbarton Road he suddenly felt the sickness rising in his stomach again and could feel it hanging at the back of his throat waiting to be expelled from his stomach.

Rushing over to a nearby lamp post, he soon found himself being violently sick. A few seconds later he lifted his head only to vomit again. The sweat was now pouring from his head and he felt his whole body beginning to shake. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he had some sort of stomach bug but he knew the truth. It was the sight of all the blood that made him sick.

He stood up and wiped the sickness from his mouth before continuing his journey home. As he passed a rubbish bin outside a shop he took of his gloves and tossed them inside. He knew the bin would be emptied first thing in the morning.

As soon as he reached home he immediately threw off his clothes and stepped into a hot shower. The day had started off well, with work being his top priority. Getting sacked for timekeeping from his call centre job was not something he had anticipated when he set off to work that morning. Now he had to look for another job which was not easy for someone with no qualifications to his name.

As the warm water sprayed over his naked body his thoughts returned to the woman that he had just strangled. How she had nearly knocked him down with her car. How his headache had returned and how she was to blame. He recalled how quickly she had lost consciousness and how he felt as he put his two hands around her throat and squeezed the last bit of life from her body. As he did so his headache had disappeared and the anger that he had felt just a few moments before had been replaced by a feeling of elation. By the time she had taken her last breath he felt a calmness, a sense of peace that he had not felt for such a long time.

He immersed his whole head under the shower and for a moment felt as if he was drowning. His whole life flashed in front of him and all the childhood memories that he had successfully suppressed for many years, came flooding back. Pulling his head from under the shower he shook his shoulder length dark hair before jumping out and grabbing a towel. He didn't want to remember anything about his childhood. Standing drying himself in his bedroom, in front of a mirror, he glanced at his reflection and smiled. The man staring back at him was a young, dark haired, athletic, good looking man who appeared to have his whole life ahead of him. He puffed his chest out and pulled in his stomach trying to appear more muscular than he really was and decided there and then to join a gym.

He could do with building up his muscles and maybe losing a stone in weight. The towel dropped from his waist as turned and flexed his muscles and glancing at the mirror he could see the scars on his back and buttocks. A legacy left to him by his mother. The only thing she left him with apart from the lipstick. The lipstick he had taken from her lifeless body.

He dressed himself in an old pair of jeans and walking to the corner of his room lifted an old t-shirt and sniffed it to make sure it didn't smell too bad, before pulling it over his head. Before leaving his bedroom, he went over to the mirror again and smiled at his reflection as if to congratulate himself on a job well done. What he didn't see was the coldness of his eyes. This coldness was the first thing people noticed when they met him, even if he had a great big smile on his face. The coldness could not be disguised and everyone who met him knew that there was something sinister about him. He was one young man that should be avoided at all costs.

He scooped up the clothes that he had left on the bathroom floor, and put them into the washing machine. Looking down at his white trainers he noticed several specks of blood and threw them into the machine with his clothes.

His stomach grumbled with hunger and he decided to make himself some supper. Opening the fridge he found one rasher of bacon and one egg. Shaking his head he knew that he would have to count his pennies to see how much he had left for the next day. Pulling the pennies from his pocket he discovered that he had just enough to last him one more day. He would have to make a trip to the Jobcentre to apply for Jobseekers Allowance and maybe a crisis loan. He found himself laughing. His life was one big crisis after another.

Chapter 6

The next morning when he awoke he felt refreshed and decided to run out to the local shop for the newspapers and something to eat for breakfast. On returning home he made himself some beans on toast with a large mug of hot steaming tea with six sugars, just as he liked it, and settled down at the kitchen table to read the papers. He scanned the newspapers but found no word of her murder. Maybe she hasn't been found yet, he thought. He didn't set off to kill anyone but she had caught him in one of his moods and there was nothing he could do about it. Being sacked from his job set him over the edge, he told himself, and nearly being run over was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was not his fault. He needed to keep control of his life and women always took control away. No woman was ever going to treat him badly again. No, never again. Keep life simple, the simpler the better and that meant no women. There was a word for men who hated women and he tried to remember what it was. Yes, a Misogynist, yes that's what he was. A woman had brought him into this lousy world, beat him, tortured him and made him incapable of love.

That's what he thought until he met Monica, the love of his life. He had thought he had found true love three years ago when he met her. She seemed to understand him and he found comfort in her arms, comfort and love that he had never had in his entire life until she spoiled it all by wanting to finish with him just over three months ago. The anger he felt then was so intense that it took him back to his childhood and the anger he felt for his mother. He couldn't let her go. She didn't die like the rest of them, nor was she discarded like a piece of rubbish. No. She was special. She would stay with him forever. He remembered the intense love that he felt for her and at the end of their relationship, the intense hatred. Love and hate were different sides of the same coin.

He finished eating and took his dishes over to the sink. After washing and drying his plate and cup, he returned them to the cupboard. He then began to clean his knife and fork, taking extra special care to dry them properly before popping them back into the drawer.

He left the pot until last and began scrubbing it meticulously to ensure that there were no traces of beans left anywhere on it. He always cleaned up after himself and had a strict cleaning regime. He liked a clean and tidy home. Taking the bleach out from under the sink, he began cleaning the kitchen table but was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. "Hello?" he answered. "Ian, how's things? No, not tonight thanks. Yes, I'm fine. I'll have to sign on the dole for a while until I find another job. Alright then, I'll see you at the club Friday night. Ok. Bye." he said, putting down the receiver and returning to the kitchen to finish his cleaning.

He never had any real friends. He had met a few people, like Ian, that he could loosely call a friend but the truth was he found it hard to make friends, and even harder to keep them. It was a trust issue. He found it hard to trust anyone. Sometimes he would go for a beer or two with Ian and few of his other workmates after work. That's over with now, he thought, because the bitch sacked me for being late. It wasn't the first time he had been late, and he had plenty of warnings, but he was still shocked when it did eventually happen.

He thought it was nice, but strange, for Ian to call him and ask him if he wanted to go for a drink. He wondered if he should actually go to the club to meet Ian and his other former workmates. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. He would wait until Friday to decide. His thoughts returned to his now ex-manager. She was a bitch and he would sort her out in due course. He knew she went to the gym every night after work and knew exactly how to get rid of her. For now, however, he would keep a low profile.

He finished cleaning the kitchen, went to the fridge for a beer, and settled down on his sofa to watch some television. There was nothing of interest for him to watch and he soon found himself becoming agitated and began flicking through the channels. After an hour he decided to go for a walk and, grabbing his jacket, set off to walk along to the shops in Partick. He bought some bread and a few packets of biscuits then, deciding that as it was still too early to go home, walked along to visit the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. He wanted to have a look at it now that it had been renovated.

The museum in Glasgow has been the most popular free-to-enter visitor attraction in Scotland. The gallery located on Argyle Street, in the West End of the city, on the banks of the River Kelvin is adjacent to Kelvingrove Park and is situated near the main campus of the University of Glasgow. Most people enter the building from the main road and there is a popular myth that the building was accidentally built back-to-front. Many visitors believed this but it is an urban myth as the entrance was always intended to face into Kelvingrove Park. Another myth was that the architect jumped to his death from one of the museum's towers, when he realised that he mistakenly built the museum back to front. The museum was reopened by Queen Elizabeth II on 11 July 2006 after a three-year closure for major refurbishment and restoration. With cost of over £27m it was too expensive as far as he was concerned. He was sure they could have done it for far less money but he always enjoyed the museum even as a little boy.

He spent over two hours walking around looking at all the exhibitions and it was the Egyptian collection that impressed him the most. He didn't much like the stuffed animals but enjoyed looking at all the sculptures and paintings. One special painting that caught his eye was Christ of Saint John by Salvador Dali. Studying it, he noticed that there were no nails, blood or crown of thorns and wondered why.

On leaving the museum, he thought about visiting the new Transport Museum but decided to leave that for another day. He nipped into the local shop for groceries before heading home. At home he made himself some supper that consisted of a ready- made meal of chicken, roast potatoes, carrots, peas and gravy which he quickly placed in the microwave.

As his meal was cooking he took two bottles of beer from the fridge and went into the living room to turn on the television. He called the Jobcentre and arranged for a meeting with an advisor the following day. Just in time, he thought, as money was short. Sitting with his meal on his knees, he began flicking through the television channels to find something to watch that interested him.

Finding a film that seemed to be interesting he soon found that it descended into rubbish. He continued watching the film until the end hoping it would eventually get better, it never did. By the time it finished, he couldn't even remember what it was about.

After another few hours of sitting flicking through the television channels he decided to go to bed early. He tidied up the living room and put the light out before taking the cutlery and empty bottles into the kitchen. He threw his empty bottles into the bin and washed the cutlery before putting them away. He slowly walked over to the large chest freezer and opened the lid. He pushed away the frozen food, as he had done every night for the past three months, and said "Night-night babe. Love you," before closing the lid again and going to bed.

He didn't sleep well that night. As he tossed and turned he could feel the pressure building up once again inside his head. The headache was returning and he reached out to his bedside table for some painkillers. The headaches were becoming more frequent and the pain more severe. When he eventually fell asleep, his vivid dreams tormented him. Suppressed childhood memories that had lain dormant for so long began to re-surface. He tried to avoid thinking of his childhood and was successful, during the day, of blocking out those painful memories. At night however, he had no control over his dreams and this was when he suffered again and again at the hands of his mother and her boyfriend James.

He always had these nightmares but after meeting Monica they had somehow ceased. Now they had returned worse than they had ever been before. He felt that every day was a struggle but at least he still had Monica, no-one could take her away from him. As he drifted into sleep he saw his mother's face and the events of that night played over and over again in his head. Could he have done anything differently? Will he ever see his sister again? He could see his dead mother's eyes staring at him and suddenly he woke up in a cold sweat. His head was thumping and he reached out for yet more painkillers and cursed loudly. He kept having the same nightmares over and over again. His mother screaming at him, calling him evil. His young sister crying and needing him to protect her.

The world to him was a dark, dark place full of pain and at times he wished he had never been born. He had to protect himself and the only way to do that was to have control over his life. Without control he would be helpless and he vowed he'd never be helpless again. He suddenly thought of his father, someone he had not thought of for years. His father had abandoned them many years ago, when he was a young child, and he and his sister were left with their drunken mother, to cope the best way they could. He always heard his parents arguing. The arguments usually began on a Friday night and would continue over the weekend. Every weekend was the same and after the arguments everything would calm down for the rest of the week. There was an unspoken hatred between them and even as a young child he knew that the shouting and screaming that went on in his home was not normal. It was after another one of their violent argument that his father left, but this time he never returned home.

That was when his mother began drinking heavier than usual. Every night he would hear his mother crying and every morning he would find her sprawled over the sofa drunk. He and his little sister always tiptoed around their mother knowing that at any second she could fly into a rage and they would be beaten black and blue. His father was not there anymore to protect them from their violent mother. She always hit him and his sister whenever she was angry, and after his father left, she was always angry. He always tried to protect his young sister but in doing so took the full force of his mother's wrath and still had the scars to prove it.

A few weeks after his father left, he had plucked up the courage to ask his mother when his dad was coming back. "Never, you stupid bastard! He has another fucking family now." screamed his mother, reaching for a cigarette. "Living with a fucking bitch and her two kids. Now fuck off, I have a headache." He remembers running into his bedroom and staying there crying for hours, only venturing out of his room to sneak into the kitchen to get something to eat, and running back to his room again as quickly as he could.

All he thought about when he was younger, was escaping by running away but he knew he could never leave his sister. One day, he had promised her, when he was old enough to leave home, he would find a place of his own and she would be able to live with him.

Suddenly he remembered that his mother always seemed to have headaches. Migraines she called them. That's what the doctor told him that he was suffering from, migraines. Damn it, he thought, he had something in common with his mother. This angered him immensely. He didn't want to have anything in common with that psycho excuse for a woman. The monster of a woman that called herself his mother had migraines. He had headaches not migraines.

He shook his head and tried to think of other things. There was no use thinking of the past. It was the future he had to think about and the most important thing for him at that moment was to find a new job. He decided to spend the next day or two looking for a new job but not a call centre job. He was sick of that type of work. The constant abuse he had to endure each day from customers always made his headache worse. It was too stressful and he was determined to find some other kind of work.

He drifted off to sleep and this time it was a more peaceful sleep. The painkillers took away the pain and in doing so also took away the nightmares from his past.

Chapter 7

"Any breakthrough with the Alice Morrison murder yet?" DCI Aitken asked only for Mike to shake his head. The DCI marched out of the door growling to himself. DI Mike Watson watched him with amusement. The DCI had now been transferred permanently from Govan to Pitt Street Police Station and was not a happy man. He had been drafted in months before when DCI Collins had taken unwell. Now that DCI Collins had retired, DCI Aitken found himself stuck at the station. Something he was not pleased about and his resentment showed in his face for everyone to see.

Hanging his jacket on the back of his chair, Mike sat down and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Taking out some files he said to himself "Right, let's get started." Oh no, he suddenly thought, he was beginning to sound like DCI Collins. For years Mike and the rest of the station laughed about how the DCI usually started his sentences with 'Right'. Now he was doing the same thing. His thoughts turned to his old DCI who was now in a care home outside Glasgow. He had never returned to his normal self after suffering a stroke and had immediately been transferred from the hospital to the care home as soon as he had recovered enough to be moved. The poor devil, thought Mike, and made a mental note to pop in and see him soon.

Lifting the telephone he made a few calls to some of his contacts but no one had heard anything that could help him with the murder investigation. Sitting at his desk he began drumming his fingers on the table, trying to think of anyone else he could contact. Just then DS George Wilson popped his head around the door. "Morning George, are the other two with you?" Mike asked getting up from his desk. "Who?" George asked rather confused. "You know Bonnie and Clyde." he replied before adding "Henley and Norton or are they still at the scene?"

George smiled. "They are still interviewing neighbours and friends of our murder victim. Should be back soon as they are nearly finished, supposedly." he told him with a scornful look on his face. "What's with the face?" Mike asked rather confused. "Nothing really. They just seem to be getting rather friendly with each other, that's all. I just don't want them missing any information that might be useful. They seem to have only eyes for each other. Not a good thing." he told him and watched as Mike threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't that long ago that George was in the same position himself with the psychologist that came to help them catch a serial killer.

"How is Melissa today?" he asked and George got his meaning. "Ok. Ok. I know. But we were different." he replied and the other detective raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Yeh. Yeh." he said before indicating for him to pull out a chair and join him.

They both went over the details of the murder of Alice Morrison. Forensics were still working on the case but preliminary indications were that she had met a violent death. After being violently beaten, she was strangled. Not with a ligature but with gloved hands. Someone had violently beaten her before putting their hands around her neck and squeezing the last bit of breath from her. But why? That was the million dollar question.

Looking at the photographs of the scene Mike saw the blood splattered over the walls and the carpet and wondered how someone could be so violent. It didn't shock him as he had seen it all before but it still made him wonder what kind of animals were out there waiting to pounce on unsuspecting victims. Her home had not been broken into so she may have known the killer. His thoughts were interrupted by George. "What's with the lipstick?" he asked pointing to the picture of the victim. Mike looked down and shrugged his shoulders. The red lipstick smeared all over her mouth, made her look like a badly made up clown. "Why would someone do that?" George asked.

"Why would someone kill her would be a more important question." Mike replied tutting. "Maybe we need the help of a forensic psychologist. What do you think George?" he asked giving him a wink. "Melissa is on maternity leave as well you know." George told him. "Yes but maybe she could help us a little. Just a little." he said to the amusement of the other detective. George nodded and told him he would put it to her that very night.

It was 6.30pm by the time DC Henley and DC Norton called the office to speak to Mike. DC Norton informed him that all the interviews had now been completed and asked if he wanted them to come straight over to the station. He told Mike that the rush hour traffic was horrendous and that he didn't know how long it would take them. The tone in his voice suggested to Mike that all they really wanted to do was go home. He sighed and told them that he would see them first thing in the morning bright and early.

Chapter 8

Melinda Thomas rushed through the front door and shouted. "Sorry I'm late." Jenny Mathews crunched up her nose, as she so often did, and gave a glare as she saw her flatmate rushing past her. "Hurry up for God's sake. I don't want to be late." she said angrily. "And anyway why are you bloody late?" she asked looking at her watch. Melinda stuck her head out of the bathroom and smiled sweetly, a false smile Jenny thought, same as always. She heard the shower running and couldn't believe her ears. Knocking on the bathroom door she screamed in her legendary high pitched voice. "Are you having a bloody shower? I don't believe you." Melinda pretended not to hear her.

A few moments later Melinda opened the bathroom door and quickly ran into the bedroom to get changed. Her flatmate was nowhere to be seen. "I won't be a minute Jenny." she shouted to a now empty flat.

Twenty minutes later Melinda Thomas emerged from her bedroom dressed to kill. She had spent hours after work shopping for the right dress to wear for the night out. It was a red, short, tight fitting dress with a plunging neckline that showed off all of her assets. Her makeup had taken ages to apply, to ensure that the spot just under her left eye that she had discovered that morning was concealed. It was a birthday party after all and she had to make the effort, not like Jenny who was always dressed in black like a nun.

The party was being held in a classy club in the city called The Cube and although Melinda knew she would be more than a little late she always liked to make an entrance. She brushed her long black hair and put on her large gold hooped earrings before rushing over to find shoes to wear. She had at least two dozen pairs of shoes but eventually opted for the black high heel shoes that she had bought the week before. "I'm ready Jenny. Let's go." she shouted only to discover the unbelievable had happened. Jenny had gone without her. "Bitch." she screamed to the now empty flat before retrieving her mobile and calling a taxi.

Entering the club Melinda Mathews saw the group of friends in the corner laughing and joking and Jenny was in the middle holding up a glass of champagne and singing happy birthday to their friend Sandra. She felt the anger rising inside her. The bitch had left her to make her own way to the club. Well revenge is sweet but what type of revenge she hadn't decided yet.

Rushing over to the table she said, "Happy Birthday Sandra." Before kissing her on the cheek. All the time Melinda's eyes did not leave Jenny, who by this time was blushing more than usual. Jenny opened her mouth to speak but Melinda put her hand up to stop her. She was too angry to listen to her excuses and was too busy planning her revenge to give a damn about what she said.

Someone gave Melinda a glass of champagne and the girls started chatting and laughing just like they did at school. The whole group of eight had all been friends throughout their school years and always kept in touch. They usually went out together at least once a month but as this was Sandra McNab's 23rd birthday they made an exception and met up a week earlier than planned.

A few drinks later, the girls took to the dance floor. Melinda being the most flamboyant of the group soon had the men standing around gazing at her beauty. She loved to be admired. She loved all the attention that she received whenever she went out clubbing. Something that Jenny would never have, she told herself. A plan for revenge emerged in her mind and with careful planning she would sort Jenny Mathews out once and for all.

Two hours later most of the group were too drunk to stand, never mind dance. Melinda ensured that she kept her wits about her and plied Jenny with extra alcohol behind her back. The tension between them was there for everyone to see and as soon as Melinda had disappeared onto the dance floor with one of her many admirers the girls began to discuss it amongst themselves.

"What's going on with you two?" Sandra asked with a slurred voice. "She's just being her usual bitchy self." Jenny replied taking a sip of her drink that was now more alcohol than soda. She screwed her face up but took another sip anyway. The alcohol put fire in her belly and maybe after another few drinks she would tell Melinda Thomas what she actually thought of her. "Come on Jenny. Tell Auntie Sandra all about it." her friend laughingly joked, as the others gathered forward in their seats to hear the conversation that was being drowned by the loud music. "We just don't get on. In fact I don't think we really did. I can't live with her any more. Not one bloody second more." she replied reaching out for her drink again. The group of girls nodded their heads in agreement.

It was a strange thing for the two of them to share a place together. Jenny was the more sensible and responsible one while Melinda was reckless and inconsiderate. Melinda was tall, slim with gorgeous long black hair and big brown eyes who always seemed to have a man at her side. While Jenny was short, blonde, blue eyed and more than a little overweight. Nevertheless they were friends and when they both wanted to fly the nest and find a place of their own, they decided to move in together and share all the bills. Truth be known, the bills were mostly paid by Jenny as Melinda's wages always seemed to go on new clothes, better make-up and shoes, endless shoes. Jenny couldn't believe how many pairs of shoes she had, not until she had brought them out to show her one night.

This month was no different than any other. Melinda was short on her share of the rent and short on her share of the household bills but somehow, she still found money to buy a new dress. Melinda's spendthrift ways always infuriated Jenny and that was why she had made plans, plans that Melinda didn't know anything about. Melinda always promised to pay her back. Months would come and go and she would never see any of the promised money. It wasn't just the lack of money that got on Jenny's nerves. It was waking up in the morning with half naked men in the kitchen making themselves at home.

Every weekend was the same since Melissa broke up with her last boyfriend. She would bring home a man, a stranger and Jenny would find him in the kitchen half dressed in the morning. Never the same man twice which was not how Jenny lived her life and she was disgusted with her flatmate's wanton behavior. That was another reason for was moving out and for a second she wondered how Melissa would cope on her own. She shook her head; the truth was she didn't give a damn any more. She had been taken for a fool long enough and it was time for a change.

Melinda had tried not to think of him but she couldn't help but think of him. She had thought of him all last night after returning from the club. She had thought of him all day at work. How could she not think of him? She had met him the weekend before at the club and although he seemed as if he wasn't interested in her she knew that her charm had captivated his attention. She had noticed him standing alone at the bar and leaving her friends went up to speak to him. She immediately noticed his brown eyes and found them both menacing and appealing. She had a little more to drink than usual that night but remembers flirting with him which seemed to amuse him.

With a little coaxing he bought her a drink and then made his way to the door as if to leave. Asking the bar man for a pen she quickly wrote down her mobile and home phone numbers on a beer mat and ran after him. When she reached him she handed him the beer mat and asked him to give her a call. Seeing that he was still unresponsive she had told him her address and asked him to pick her up the next night for a date. He had smiled at her and said he would think about it. She knew he was playing hard to get but he was interested in her, she was sure of that. She always knew when a man was interested in her and this handsome stranger was definitely captivated by her charms.

Jenny had told her that she was too clingy, too needy, and too possessive for any man to stay around her too long. She told her that they all became aware of this very quickly and couldn't stand feeling suffocated by her for long. According to Jenny she always wanted, needed, craved attention, craved love, and craved commitment.

When her other friends had told her she was scaring men away with all the long term plans that she had for them, she didn't know what they meant. That was until they reminded her that she had introduced one of her boyfriends to her parents two weeks after meeting him and how the very next day he had dumped her by text. She had scared him off. How she had wanted, pleaded, to move in with her last boyfriend a few days after meeting him and how he had actually moved out of his flat and moved to another town to get away from her. She never listened to any of her friends. They were all jealous of her popularity with members of the opposite sex.

He had not met up with his friends at the club. Ian had called him but he ignored the call. He felt ill and more than a little depressed. He couldn't or wouldn't waste his last few pounds on some drink at a damn club. He needed to find a job and find it quickly. Scanning the newspapers that day, he had circled a few possibilities. Now sitting in front of the television he wondered if his life would get any better or was this, the best it would get.

Going to bed early he decided that he needed to get life by the balls and figure out a different direction to go towards. He needed to get his life in order, he needed a job and most of all he needed money. Drifting off to sleep the memories, that he had been so scared of, surfaced again.

He was at school, hiding his bruises by always wearing long sleeves and refusing to roll them up, even in hot weather. He was rushing home from school but this time to the aroma of a properly cooked meal. His mother smiled at him when he came through the door and reached out to hug him, but he recoiled from her touch. This was a Friday and his mother was always in a good because she went to the pub with her friend Sally on a Friday.

It's now dark outside and he is awakened by his mother staggering into the house and bumping against the furniture. He stays in his bed, too afraid to come out, and when the sun shines into his bedroom he rises and quietly creeps into the living room. He finds his mother lying on the sofa in a drunken stupor, smelling of alcohol, and her bright red lipstick is smeared across her face,

making her look like a clown.

He suddenly woke up in a cold sweat and jumped out of bed. He didn't want to remember anything about his childhood. These echoes from the past were disturbing and angered him. He decided to watch some television and after an hour and a few glasses of whisky, which was left over from Christmas, he took the chance of returning to bed. He hadn't been sleeping very well for months and constantly felt tired and drained.

He thought of his mother and how she often brought men home, introducing them as 'uncles'. First it was "Uncle Jack" then "Uncle Pete ", then "Uncle John." They would move in for a while and then suddenly leave again, just as fast. When his mother was seeing a new man she was happy, and when she was happy she left him and his sister alone. When the 'Uncles' left his mother would beat them again. 'Uncle James' was the worst, a parasite. He was much older than his mother, a tall man with a huge belly, very little hair and always stank of beer. If his mother didn't hit him then his new 'Uncle' would do the honours.

He was overwhelmed by the hatred he felt for his mother and the swine of the man that invaded their home, ate their food and ordered them around like they were his personal slaves. 'Uncle James' would often take off his belt as soon as he came home from school and beat him black and blue saying that he was the boss, not a snotty little kid like him.

He eventually found himself drifting off to sleep only for the memories to invade his brain like unwanted gatecrashers at a party.

He was back at school again and is surrounded by a group of boys taunting him and calling him names. The leader of the gang is Liam Rogers, the tallest, of the group and nearly a year older than the others. He came from a notorious family, that were always in and out of jail and everyone at school was scared of him.

He prods him in his chest with his finger and keeps asking him for money but money was one thing that was impossible to get. Suddenly Liam orders the other boys to beat him. He feels the pain as they start kicking and punching him but he never cried. He had no tears left to cry. He was all cried out.

Coming out of the English class one day he waits for Liam. And when they all clambered downstairs he sticks out his foot and trips up the bully, who went tumbling down the stairs and ended up in a heap at the bottom. The girls in his class scream and the teachers run out to see what had happened. Liam was dead. That day he felt relieved and enjoyed for the first time the feeling of power. Power over life or death. His bully was dead.

The memories of the day he got rid of 'Uncle James' also came flooding back to him as he slept, and he could see it as clear as day.

James decides to go to Glasgow to buy some new clothes and he pleads to go with him. After nearly an hour of pleading he was surprised when he was allowed to go. On boarding the bus they both go upstairs so that his 'Uncle' can smoke. They sat in silence for the whole journey and when it was time came to get off he used the same trick to get rid of him as he did to get rid of the school bully. His 'Uncle' falls down the stairs, straight off the bus and right into the path of oncoming traffic. The ambulance takes his 'Uncle' to hospital and the police take him home to his mother. His mother is distraught and keeps asking him over and over again how this had happened. He shook his head. He didn't know. When 'Uncle James' eventually passed away from his injuries he feels relieved and elated with the thought that, once again, he had got rid of one of his enemies. The memories of that night, the night when the cruelty stopped, the night when his mother went away, the night he was liberated, the night when he lost his sister forever, crept into his subconscious as he slept.

He is sitting at his school desk waiting for the bell to ring so he can get back home to his little sister. As the bell rings he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and rushes out the classroom door. It's raining and he pulls off his jacket and puts it over his head as he rushes along the street. He runs through some puddles and his trousers get wet. His mother would be angry but he knew he had to get home quickly. As he nears home he's out of breath and running up the tenement stairs, he can hear his mother's raised voice echoing down to him as if daring him to approach. He quickly pushes open the front door and rushes into the living room.

His mother had been drinking. He sees his mother violently shaking his little sister and screaming into her tear filled face and immediately rushes to his sister's aid. He pushes his mother aside and puts himself between her and his beloved sister. Angry as always, her voice is full of venom. "What do you think you're doing?" she barks at him spitting into his face as she speaks. "Get out of my fucking way. Your sister needs a good thrashing and she's going to get it."

Her face is purple with rage and the veins in her neck looked as if they were about to explode. As he stands in front of his young sister he can feel her hands gripping the back of his jacket. "You stole money from my purse, you little ungrateful bitch." his mother screams as she pulls him away from his sister and pushes him out of her way, sending him flying across the room. "No!" his sister cries feebly as she tries to run out of the room only for her mother to grab her by her long blonde hair and pull her back. "You stole money from my purse, didn't you? Don't try to deny it." she yells and begins to slap the little girl around the head. "Where is it? Give it back now!" she demands shaking her intensely until the little girl falls to the floor sobbing. His sister crawls on her hands and knees over to the corner of the room and cowers there with her hands around her head crying hysterically.

He pulls her up from the floor and pulls her towards the bathroom. Pushing her inside he tells her to lock the door. He stands with his back to the bathroom door facing his mother. She reaches out, grabs him and begins slapping him around the head. As she breathes on his face the smell of whisky envelopes him like some sweet but deadly mist. He feels dizzy but doesn't retaliate and as his mother picks up a brush he winches as he knows that she will beat him black and blue. She beats him over and over again and this time he cries.

When she is finished he stares at her with hatred in his heart and as she staggers towards the front door his eyes follow her every movement. The hatred he feels for his mother intensifies until he feels like he could burst.

As she goes out the front door he follows her and as she staggers down the stairs he puts out his hands and pushes her. He watches as she tumbles down the stairs and hits her head on each step and lands in a crumpled heap at the bottom. He calmly walks down the stairs and stands staring at his now motionless mother. He feels nothing. He sees that her eyes are open as if staring at him in disbelief, but she isn't breathing, he could tell that she was dead. He sees his mother's handbag lying at her side with the contents thrown all over the ground. He sees her lipstick and, picking it up, opens it. "You forgot your lipstick mother. Here let me help you." he says quietly. Kneeling down, he applies the red lipstick all over her mouth and when he is finished slips it into his trouser pocket and rushes back up the stairs to his sister.

His sister is crying and he lifts her onto the sofa before running next door to their neighbour, Mrs Simpson. He bangs on her door over and over again, shouting for help until the door eventually opens. Mrs Simpson comes running out of her door and, seeing his mother lying at the bottom of the stairs, lets out a high pitched scream. A few moments later the police and ambulance arrive.

This was the day he lost his sister forever. They had been fostered separately and had no contact with each other from that day on. He awoke from his sleep and realised that he had been crying in his sleep again. He hadn't done that for years and wondered why it would all start up again now. He sat up in bed and pulling up his legs put his head on his knees. The last thing he remembered before wakening was his little sister. They had not seen each other since that night and he wondered how her life had worked out. The last time he saw her they had clung to each other fighting the social workers that were trying to prise them apart.

Over the next few years he drifted from one foster home to another. He couldn't settle. Things hadn't worked out the way he had hoped and all he did was run away from one foster home after another. All he had left from his childhood was his mother's tube of lipstick and he often sat at night staring at it as if it was a precious relic. His social worker wanted him to stay at the same secondary school saying that they didn't want to take him away from his old school friends. What friends? He never had any.

He often got into trouble at school. Cheeky and disruptive, more than one teacher told his social worker. He wouldn't amount to anything, a complete no hoper, said another. He was suspended for fighting many times but his social worker always seemed to persuade the school to take him back. He eventually left school with very little qualifications and a huge chip on his shoulder. When he was old enough to escape the clutches and ever watchful eye of the Social Work Department he felt relieved. He was an adult now and could do whatever he wanted, but the only thing he wanted was to find his sister. He needed to find a job that paid good wages so that he could bring her to live with him.

Over the next few years he drifted from one job to another simply because he always ended up telling the boss where to go. His temper would never let him walk away from any kind of dispute, but his angry outbursts were always verbal, never physical. Physical aggression would get him into trouble with the police and he had three dark secrets that he never wanted the police to find out.

He began dating but his relationships never lasted for much longer than a few weeks. That was until he met Monica, the love of his life. She understood him, having been brought up in foster care herself, after her mother took a fatal drug overdose when she was 8 years old. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her long black hair and piercing blue eyes. He thought he would be with Monica forever and it didn't take long for them to move in together. At last he eventually knew what love was and everything seemed to be going well, even talking about marriage, which he thought would never be something that he would even consider.

However, when Monica found out she was pregnant she wanted an abortion which horrified him. She told him she was too young for the responsibility of a child. He pleaded with her to reconsider, marry him and become a real family. He thought he had convinced her until he returned from work one evening to find her packing her clothes into a small case. She was leaving him. The love of his life was leaving. She told him that she had gone ahead and had the abortion and now she wanted to move on with her life. From the look in her eyes he knew that her life would not include him. An argument ensued and she told him that he was too possessive and she didn't want to be with him anymore. He was devastated and couldn't take the fact that, once again, he had lost his chance for happiness, the chance to live a proper life. That was when his anger returned and returned with a vengeance. Never again would any woman do him wrong. Monica would never leave him, he wouldn't allow it.

Chapter 9

"Anyone call me?" Melinda Thomas asked her flatmate as soon as she arrived back from work. "Not that I know of." her flatmate replied dryly. "Can we talk Melinda?" she asked patting on the sofa to indicate that she should sit down. Melinda looked at her and wondered if this was going to be another one of her long lectures. "What is it this time?" she asked trying to stifle a yawn. "I'm leaving today." her flatmate Jenny Mathews announced. "What the hell do you mean?" Melinda asked astounded by her flatemate's callous but devastating news. "You can't just up and leave." she told her. "The landlord needs notice." Jenny stood up. "He got notice. I should have told you earlier but I'm telling you now. I leave in ten minutes." she said pulling out her suitcases from behind the sofa. "What!" Melinda screamed. "You can't do this. Why would you want to do this?" she asked beginning to sob. "You know I can't make the rent payments by myself." Crocodile tears, Jenny thought suddenly finding that every muscle in her body had become very tense. "By yourself. You hardly paid the bloody rent. I've paid it." she screamed wanting to reach out and throttle her. "But why?" Melinda asked wiping the tears from her eyes. "You can stop that rubbish right now." Jenny demanded. "Those crocodile tears don't work on me. You know why I'm leaving and I'm not discussing again."

As Jenny walked towards the front door, Melinda jumped in front of her blocking her exit. "Please Jenny. Don't do this. I'll do anything you want. Please." Melinda begged but to no avail. "Get another flatmate. It shouldn't be too hard. Now get out of my way before I thump you." Melinda stared into her flatmate's eyes and knew that she meant business. As she stood aside she asked, "Where are you going?" Jenny turned to her as she opened the front door. "I'm going to stay with a friend." was all she replied. As she stepped outside Melinda glared at her. "Well fuck off then." she screamed and slammed the door in her face.

Melinda was furious at her flatmate's betrayal and didn't have a clue what to do next. Grabbing a bottle of Vodka from the kitchen cupboard she poured herself a large measure and drank it down in one go. "Damn bitch." she mumbled to herself before pouring herself another large drink.

An hour later she found herself lying on the sofa, somewhat drunk but not drunk enough to forget her friend's betrayal. What would she do now? As she lay on the sofa she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

Banging on her front door woke her up and she immediately jumped up thinking that Jenny had returned. Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe it was to teach her lesson. She rushed towards the front door and flung the door open wide. It wasn't Jenny standing there it was him. "Hello" he said and she smiled at him. "I knew you would come. You couldn't resist me, could you? She opened the door wider and invited him inside. "Have you been drinking? It's a bit early for that, isn't it?" he asked noticing her slurring her words. "I had one or maybe two." she replied laughing. "It's just been one of those days." His eyes darkened as he watched her. He pushed her into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him.

When he was finished he returned the lipstick to his inside pocket, adjusted his leather gloves, slowly opened the front door and slipped in to the darkened streets unseen.

As he walked along the street he cursed to himself as he felt the pain in his groin increasing with every step. He had put his hands around her throat and after struggling for a few minutes she had suddenly went limp. He had thought that she was unconscious and threw her to the floor to finish the job. When he had knelt down beside her and reached out with his hands again she suddenly came to life and had kneed him in the groin. He had let out an almighty squeal and for a few moments was paralysed with the pain. She had been faking in an attempt to escape and had been very convincing.

He couldn't believe that he had been so gullible to believe that she was unconscious so quickly. That should not have happened. When she had jumped to her feet and made a dash for the door it was a stroke of luck that he had managed to grab her by the legs which send her crashing to the floor. She could have got away and then what would have happened? He dared not think about it.

When she crashed to the floor and hit her head she was stunned for a moment but a moment was all he needed. He was soon on top of her, squeezing her throat with all the strength he had left in him. But with each squeeze he felt the pain in his groin increase which deflated the elation that he should have felt, which angered him. He wanted this to be perfect. He needed this to be perfect. He needed that feeling of elation again but it didn't happen. She had thrashed about like a fish out of water gasping for breath. Damn her, he thought, she had ruined his night.

The pain in his groin was excruciating and now his headache was returning. He had to get home and take some painkillers. On reaching home he swallowed a handful down with some lager. Sitting on the sofa he remembered how he had met her. It was in a club the week before when she had struck up a conversation with him at the bar. She was an assertive kind of girl, slim, pretty with long black hair and had seemed to have taken a shine to him.

He remembers that she was a bit tipsy then too, which annoyed him. He bought her a drink to get rid of her but she had followed him as he was leaving the club. She had thrust a beer mat, with her telephone number into his hand but he wasn't interested. He had tried to walk away from her but she ran after him to give him her address. She had asked him to pick her up to go to the club the next night. He remembers getting more and more annoyed with her and in an attempt to get away told her that he would think about it. Well he did think about it and as he walked along the street, he found himself laughing. The look of sheer delight on her face, when she opened the door and saw him. "Stupid bitch." he mumbled. She got what she deserved. It wasn't his fault.

Throwing his gloves into an open bin, he quickly made his way home. The leather gloves were costing him a fortune. He only had two pair left and he knew he wouldn't be able to afford them anymore not now that he was unemployed. He had to choose his victims more carefully. But then again, his victims always chose him. It wasn't his fault.

Reaching home he threw his clothes into the washing machine before rushing off to shower. A few whiskies' later he felt more relaxed and sat watching television for a few hours before going to bed. Tonight he would have a more peaceful sleep; he was sure of that.

DI Mike Watson got up early and made breakfast for his family. "Come and get it." he shouted, "Breakfast's ready." The boys ran out of their bedroom and sat up at the table. "What have you made today dad, beef burgers?" Daniel asked. "Don't be silly. We're having porridge." he replied looking at the two boys turning up their noses as if disgusted with the suggestion. "You can put sugar on it if you want." he suggested as he poured out their porridge. They both poured far too much sugar onto their porridge, he observed, but what the heck, as long as they eat it. His thoughts were interrupted with his wife Susan shouting from the bedroom. "Any chance of a cup of tea honey?" "Two minutes." he replied. "Any pains today?" he asked his heavily pregnant wife as she tried to sit up in bed. He reached out and helped her. "Just a twinge now and again. Nothing to worry about." she replied. Before going to work he reminded her to call him if she had any more pains. "I will." she answered sipping her hot cup of tea that he had so lovely made for her. "And don't take any nonsense from those boys." he told her as he rushed out the door into the early morning rain.

Now sitting at his office desk he watched DS George Wilson sauntering up the corridor. "Any news yet George?" he asked as soon as he entered the room. "No news. How about you?" he replied taking off his jacket and hanging it up on the coat stand in the corner of the room. "A few twinges now and again." Mike replied and George added "Same here."

"Right. Let's go through the statements. Are Bonnie and Clyde in yet?" Mike asked and saw the other detective pointing out towards the corridor. "Just coming in now." he replied. DC James Henley and DC Joanne Norton had both been transferred from Govan just over three months ago but that was as much as anyone knew about them. They seemed to keep themselves to themselves and looking at Mike shaking his head, George wondered what he knew about them. "Well get those two detectives in here on the double. Let's get this investigated started." instructed Mike.

He watched as George rushed out the door to confront the two detectives who were standing talking and seemed to Mike of not making any headway of starting work. Looking at DS Wilson he found himself smiling to himself. George reminded him of himself about 8 years ago, fresh-faced, running around trying to please everyone, desperate for promotion. George was a lot younger than he was when he made it to Detective Sergeant, and if he made Detective Inspector he would be the youngest Inspector ever at the station. He wished him well and with the knowledge that he was a cousin of the Chief Inspector knew that his promotion would be sooner rather than later. But he still had exams to pass first and with his wife due her baby any day, knew that he had his hands full at the moment.

Chapter 10

As DI Mike Watson arrived at Pitt Street Station he heard a commotion down the corner. Quickening his step he approached DS Wilson and jabbing him on the back and asked him what was going on. "Another Murder." George told him. "And?" asked Mike rather confused wondering why there was such a flurry of activity. George turned to him and told him that the murder may be related to their murder. "Why would they think that?" Mike asked walking towards his room. George followed him and explained that the young girl that was found had been strangled and lipstick had been smeared all over her lips. "Right." Mike replied. "The DCI wants everyone together straight away." George told him.

Ten minutes later DCI Aitken popped his head around the door and asked if everyone had arrived at the station yet. "I don't think everyone is here yet." Mike told him. The DCI grunted and rushed down the corridor. Mike shrugged his shoulders wondering how all this was going to pan out. He was sure that he wouldn't be lead detective as the DCI made it well known that he couldn't stand him. Well the feeling was mutual.

An hour later the detectives were gathered in the Incident Room and Mike sat down beside George. With a loud bang of the door, which nearly took it off its hinges, DCI Aitken walked into the room and scanned his detectives. "Well as everyone knows we have another murder on our hands boys." he said to the disgust of DC Joanne Norton who snorted on hearing the word 'boys'. It was typical of the old boy network, to forget all about their female detectives. Looking around the room she found that she was the only female there and wished she was back at her old police station. At least at Govan there were four female detectives but at this station she stuck out like a sore thumb.

"DI Henderson, you are to be lead detective in these murders." DCI Aitken announced glaring at Mike as he spoke. DI Henderson nodded and moved from his seat at the back of the room and walked to the front to face his colleagues. George glanced over at Mike who by this time was staring at the floor. There was no love lost between DI Henderson and DI Watson and George wondered what would happen next. "DI Watson. I want all the information you have on the murder of Alice Morrison ASAP." DI Henderson instructed and Mike nodded before rising from his chair and rushing out the door to his office for the files. On returning he handed the files to DI Henderson and took his seat again.

DI Henderson glanced briefly at the detectives before opening the files and reading them. The room was silent apart from the odd sneeze and the noise of people shuffling in their seats. A few moments later DI Henderson closed the files and put them on the desk behind him before addressing the detectives. "First murder victim. Alice Morrison, 25 years old. Lived alone. Viciously beaten and then strangled. No sign of sexual assault. No sign of a break in. That implies she let the killer into her apartment willingly. Remember that everyone. The killer didn't break down the door, he was allowed in by the victim." George thought about that. Yes, she let him in. Why did she let him in? Did she trust him? Why did she trust him? Did she know him? Yes, George thought, being a detective was the best job in the whole world. A job he was meant to do. Trying to unravel mysteries and find a killer before he killed again. Yes, he loved his job.

"What's her background?" DI Henderson asked scanning the room and wishing that DI Watson would just disappear. "Parents deceased. One sister and she has been informed. She worked as an Admin Assistant at an accountancy firm called Foster & Michaels. Recently broke up with her boyfriend and lived alone. Statements were taken from her friends, neighbours and work colleagues. You will find them all in the folder." Mike told him. "What about this ex-boyfriend. Did you speak to him?" DI Henderson asked in a gruff voice. "Not yet. We haven't managed to locate him." Mike replied and watched as DI Henderson shook his head and let out a deep sigh.

He had always disliked Mike Watson. On their last big serial murder case DI Watson had been made lead detective, much to the annoyance of more senior detectives. The man was arrogant and too friendly with DCI Collins and now that he had retired seemed to be too friendly with DS Wilson who everyone new was a cousin of the Chief Constable. DI Henderson was sure that he was brown nosing himself up the ranks and he despised him for that very reason.

"Next murder victim, who was she?" asked DI Henderson. George explained that the second murder victim was Melinda Thomas who was 26 years old. Melinda lived with her friend Jenny Matthews. They had shared an apartment together for over two years and had been friends since they were at school. DI Henderson looked at him. "What did the post mortem reveal about this victim?" he asked. "The time of death has been put at between 7pm and 8pm. It's only a preliminary report but cause of death has been put as asphyxia as a result of manual strangulation. No signs of sexual assault either." George replied. "What's her background?" DI Henderson asked staring intently at her photograph. "Mother and father still alive and have been notified. Worked as a hairdresser in Hair Design in Partick." explained George.

The room fell silent everyone waiting for DI Henderson to speak. "This is the way it's going to work." he said in his very loud and gruff voice. "DI Watson, DS Wilson, DC Henley and DC Norton. You will all work on the Alice Morrison case. I along with DS Robertson, DC Peterson, and DC Brunton will work on the Melissa Thomas case. The rest of you can carry on with the cases you are working on and I will call you if and when I need you." DI Henderson looked at his watch. "Time for a tea break lads and then back to work. We have a lot to do." he said and immediately everyone jumps from their seats and made their way towards the door.

"Did you hear that?" DC Joanne Norton said to DC James Henley. "What." he asked not having a clue of what she was talking about and wondering what he had missed. "Lads, that's what. We are not all lads." she whispered making sure no-one was overhearing their conversation. "Oh that." DC Henley said throwing his head back and laughing. "Not a laughing matter. I'm bloody sick of it. It's not like this at Govan." she said really annoyed at his cavalier attitude. "Keep cool babe." he whispered in her ear gently touching her hand. "Don't do that. Someone will see." she chastised him. "You know we are not allowed relationships in the same station. If they find out then one of us will be moved. If it was a move to Govan I would go but there is no guarantee where we would end up." she told him and he nodded in agreement. Their romance had to be kept secret for now but one day he would shout it from the rooftops.
Chapter 11

The office was buzzing all afternoon. Speculation of there being another serial killer so soon after the last murders, less than a year before, were rife. But nothing much could be done until it was confirmed by forensics.

Eventually the call came through to DCI Aitken and he immediately rushed along the corridor to inform his detectives. "It's confirmed," he said. "Both victims were wearing the same lipstick and I don't mean the same colour of lipstick, I mean the same lipstick." "So," said DI Henderson, "They were killed by the same person." DCI Aitken nodded. "Yes exactly. "I want everyone, and I mean everyone, together at 3pm sharp for a briefing. There's a lot of organising to do." he said, brushing the sweat from his forehead and rushing back out the door again.

At 3pm sharp the DCI entered the room, carrying a large folder and immediately looked around to see if anyone was missing. Satisfied that everyone was in attendance he walked over to the large white board and studied the photographs of the murder victims. Something linked these two women but they did not know each other so what could be the link? He opened his folder and began to go over the murders again. When he was finished he noticed that his detectives were becoming restless. "Any questions?" he asked, but was met by a stony silence. "OK then. Get to work and find this killer. Remember these two women did not know each other so what kind of connection did they have with the killer."

DI Henderson immediately started to contact other police forces throughout the country and set his team the task of looking into all unsolved murders to see if they had the same M.O. He knew that there were plenty of unsolved murders to look into and wondered if any could be connected to his two murders. He sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his table, trying to think of anyone else he could contact. Just then DS George Wilson popped his head inside the room and told DI Henderson that Melissa had arrived at the station to see if she could help in some way.

DI Henderson greeted the heavily pregnant Melissa Wilson and pulled out one of the more comfortable chairs for her. George sat down beside her without being asked and received a stern look from his superior. Melissa was a forensic psychologist and helped the detectives when they were working on their last serial murders less than a year ago. That was when she met her now husband George Wilson and when he suggested that they needed her help, she was more than willing to give it.

Pointing to the photographs on the large white board DI Henderson stated that the killer put the lipstick on his victims, presumably after he killed them, and asked Melissa the significance of this discovery. "The killer obviously has some connection with red lipstick. Perhaps his mother wore it or his girlfriend, or wife. He is using the lipstick as some sort of signature." she said, feeling somewhat self-conscious. "Does the fact that the killer puts red lipstick on his victims after he killed them mean anything? It does to him, but what does it mean to us? You know about signatures, don't you?" DI Henderson asked glancing at George. "Signatures being left by the serial killer are not always true. It is in movies but not usually in real life." said Melissa. "But the red lipstick, surely that is some sort of signature, isn't it?" George asked. "Maybe. The killer may be playing a game. As I said, a signature is extremely rare in real life." she continued, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

"Anything else you can tell us at the moment?" DI Henderson asked. "Well the women were not sexually assaulted so these are not sexually motivated crimes, and I believe that there were no signs of robbery either. More than likely the killer is a misogynist." she said, looking at George before continuing. "He finds it hard to form a relationship with a woman. He was badly let down by a woman, maybe a girlfriend, wife or even his mother. Perhaps this red lipstick was, or is, the shade that his girlfriend, wife or mother uses. When he is killing these poor women he is really killing this woman who let him down or hurt him over and over again." Melissa explained.

Melissa suddenly yelped with pain and George immediately rushed to her side. "Just some backache." she told him. "Don't worry." She looked at the worry on his face and put her hand out and stroked his cheek. "Maybe we should go to hospital and get you checked out?" George suggested much to her horror. "No don't be silly it's only a twinge. Just take me home please." she told him and DI Henderson nodded to George indicating that he was to do just that.

Reaching out DI Henderson shook Melissa's hand and thanked her for coming into the station. He told her that the information she gave would be very helpful to their enquiries. Melissa smiled and walked towards the door closely followed by her husband DS Wilson who DI Henderson noticed was whispering into her ear about going to hospital for a check-up. By the looks of it George Wilson would soon be on paternity leave and he knew that DI Watson's wife was due her baby very soon. Two murder enquiries and two experience detectives due to take paternity leave. Not a good situation to be in, not a good situation at all.

Chapter 12

DI Watson arrived at the station earlier than usual. He wanted to solve these murders before his wife gave birth. As he sat in the office, looking out of the window deep in thought, he saw DS Wilson coming into the station. So it looked like Melissa, just like Susan was hanging on and he knew that George was as eager as him to solve these murders before he took paternity leave. "How's thing George?" Mike asked and George replied "Just the same. Any day now." "Do you fancy getting some breakfast at the café across the road? I haven't eaten yet." Mike asked him. "Yeh why not." he replied and the two detectives made their way out of the station again.

Mike gestured for the young flame haired waitress to take their order. "Good afternoon Alice." he said, glancing at her name badge pinned to her uniform and smiling. She smiled back at him and was really pleased that he had even bothered to call her by her first name. No one had bothered to call her by her name for years now; it was a dying trend she told herself. Everyone was too busy these days to bother about little things like that but it was those little things that brightened up her rather dull days. "I'll have tea and a bacon roll with plenty of onions, thanks. What are you having? he asked turning to George. "Just a coffee please, I'm not really hungry." he replied.

"Well what do you think of DI Henderson being made lead detective?" George asked not really expecting an answer as he already knew what Mike thought. "It's up to DCI Aitken so whatever." he replied. "All I'm interested in is solving these murders before I have to go on leave." George sighed before saying "Me too. You know Melissa is due any day now. I hate the thought of going on leave without these cases being solved. It would do my head in." Mike laughed at the funny expression on the other detective's face.

George always had the tendency to screw up his face when he was concerned or confused. "What?" George asked. "Oh it's nothing. Anyway these murders are an absolute pain. It's not long since that last bout of murders and now this." Mike told him. "Yeh. The world is going nuts. Don't you think?" George asked and Mike had to nod in agreement. He knew that Glasgow had the reputation for being the murder capital of the world. This was something he dismissed as rubbish but now. Well now he wondered if the myth could turn out to be the truth after all.

He felt wound up and tense and his headaches were becoming worse. He hadn't gone out much over the last few days. He filled his days by applying for jobs and he was now waiting for the job interviews to come rolling in. Any day now, he thought, and he would get his life back again. But one thing bugged him and that was Christine Riley, the bitch who sacked him and he knew that he had to get his revenge, before he had any chance of moving on with his life. He would need to be careful and make it look like an accident but he knew he was an expert in 'accidents.' So that evening his thirst for revenge would once again be satisfied. He knew where she went to after work and knew exactly how to get rid of her.

As Christine Riley left work, she walked along the road to the nearby Gym, just as she had done for the past six months. It was dark but she felt safe as the streets were full of people rushing around. She knew that two women had been murdered in the city and only yesterday she had purchased a personal alarm. As she walked along the road the alarm was held firmly in her hand. She was not taking any chances and neither were her friends who encouraged her to buy the alarm in the first place. She was determined to go to the Gym as usual as she had been on a diet now for nearly two years and had almost reached her target weight. The last stone was impossible to shift but her determination drove her on and she visited the Gym for an hour each evening after work. As she walked along Bath Street she was unaware that she was being followed.

Standing among the crowd of people waiting to cross the busy road, she suddenly she felt herself being pushed into the path of oncoming traffic. A car screeched to a halt but it was too late, she was hit and sent flying across the road into the path of the traffic travelling in the opposite direction where she was hit by another car.

People screamed and cars screeched to a halt. Everyone at the scene was sure that she was dead. He stood amongst the crowd of onlookers and as soon as he saw the police arriving on the scene, decided to make a quick exit. "Another bitch bites the dust." he muttered to himself, and on reaching home celebrated with a large glass of whisky.

Settling down on the sofa with some newspapers he went through the job adverts to see if there was anything else he could apply for. He knew with Christine gone he would get a good reference from Ian Cartwright, who would most probably get her job. Ian had been one of his friends from work and they often went drinking at the weekends together. He thought of calling him and meeting up for a drink. Yes, that was a good idea.

Moments later he was talking to Ian and they soon arranged to meet up on Friday night with some other of his old workmates. "The club as usual?" Ian had asked and he agreed even though it was a place that he didn't find himself to be comfortable in. His Job Seekers Allowance had arrived that morning and he knew he would spend as little as possible in the club. He would just stay for an hour and make some excuse to leave as he knew his money would have to last a whole fortnight.

Returning to the newspapers, to look for more vacancies, he came across a job that interested him very much. It was for an Administrative Assistant based at Pitt Street Police Station. Call centre and data entry experience required. This was the job for him, the perfect job and he immediately took down the telephone number. He would call in the morning for an application form.

Chapter 13

On Friday night he arrived early at the club so he could find a seat before it became too crowded. He sat in a darkened corner, surveying his surroundings, as the music blasted from the speakers all around the room. He didn't go out often but tonight he wanted to have some fun and had arranged to meet up with his old workmates for a few drinks.

When his friends arrived they all bought themselves a drink before joining him at the table. All they could talk about was Christine's 'accident' and how shocked they were at the news. If only it had been a few weeks earlier he would have still had a job, they joked. He told them he didn't care and had a few job interviews lined up for the following week. This was a lie of course; he had applied for many jobs and as yet had not received any replies. As he lifted his glass to his mouth, he heard cursing and screaming from the dance floor. A young girl with long black hair and a very short black dress was arguing with a man who he assumed was her boyfriend. The shouting match turned into a full scale brawl as she launched herself at him, hitting and kicking him and calling him all the names under the sun. She suddenly kicked her him in the groin and pushed him so hard that he fell onto the dance floor taking another two people down with him and then marched off, swearing at the top of her voice.

He and his friends were laughing and trying to speculate why the couple had been arguing. "He's been screwing around." said one of them. "He probably told her she looked like a tart. Do you see what she was nearly wearing? I would kill my girlfriend if she came out like that. Her arse and tits aren't even covered with that dress." said another. He watched as the girl collected her coat and rushed out of the club. Quickly gulping down the last of his beer he told his friends that he had to go; making an excuse that he had to meet his new girlfriend from work, and promised to meet up with them again soon.

She felt the cold air as soon as she stepped out of the club and found herself shivering. The ice in the wind quickly engulfed her and she pulled on her coat to protect herself from the elements. She was slightly tipsy and was rushing home so that she could smash her boyfriend's guitar into tiny pieces. He had left his very expensive guitar at her place because he was to play at a gig the following night with his band. Well, he won't be fucking staying with me tonight the bastard, she thought. She had seen him all over another woman. This came as no surprise as she had been suspicious that he was cheating on her for a long time but he had assured her that it was all in her imagination. That was until tonight when she saw them talking, when she saw them kissing. They were hiding in a corner and thought they were unseen but she had seen the lot. As she walked along the road she muttered to herself, her words inaudible to anyone nearby.

He watched her staggering along the road and reached into his jacket pocket pulling out his black leather gloves. What an easy target she was, he thought, a drunken whore was easier to kill than a sober one. He wondered if she would still be able to put up a fight as he enjoyed a little bit of a struggle.

She had left the club very early and the street were deserted, not a soul to be seen in any direction he observed. As she turned the corner into a short but dark lane, he pounced. "What the fu..." she never finished her sentence. He grabbed her in a headlock, one arm around her neck and the other tightly gripping her mouth and nose. She tried to struggle but he was too strong and, as she fell to the ground, he turned her around to face him. She saw the hatred in his eyes but didn't have the strength to fight back. She blacked out and as she did so he put his hands around her throat and squeezed the life out of her. He felt intense pleasure and with each squeeze his needs were being met.

When she gasped her last breath he threw her away just like he was discarding a piece of rubbish. He quickly brought out the lipstick, his mother's red lipstick and smeared it all over her mouth. When he was finished he looked around and saw that the streets were still empty but could hear the loud noise of a car radio. It was getting closer and closer.

Reaching out he pulled her body closer to the wall and hid in the dark as the car sped past. Jumping to his feet, he placed her body unceremoniously in between two large bins that were over-spilling with rubbish and scurried off back into the darkness.

On reaching home he felt euphoric and went straight to the bathroom, stripped off and had a hot shower. After showering he walked through to the living room and, reaching into the cupboard, took out a bottle of whisky. Pouring himself a large dram he gulped some down and felt the warmth of the liquid running down the back of his throat. It seemed to warm his entire body up from the inside out. It felt good and reaching for the bottle, he topped up his glass with more of the fiery liquid. She got what she deserved, he thought, she was a fucking whore anyway. He laughed as he remembered her eyes pleading with him as he was strangling the life out of her. He shook his head and grumbled to himself when he thought of the car and how he had to hide like a scared rabbit from its' headlights.

After throwing his clothes into the washing machine he looked at his gloves. Unsure what to do with them he decided to put them into a plastic bag and take them to an outside bin in the morning. After another few drams of whisky he switched off the living room light and went to bed. He knew he would have a good sleep that night; a peaceful sleep awaited him.

Chapter 14

Mike was called into the station early the next morning and immediately informed that another body had been found. The whole team where sitting in the Incident Room and when he entered he found George standing looking at the new photograph that had just been added to the collection on the board. Looking around the room he concluded that everyone, like him, had just jumped out of bed and rushed to the station without even as much as putting a comb through their hair.

Apart from George, DC's Henley and Norton, who were all immaculately dressed and groomed as usual. They put the rest of the detectives to shame.

Everyone glanced at the room door when they heard heavy footsteps approaching. It was DCI Aitken with DI Henderson closely following behind him. "Take a seat everyone." the DCI instructed and the detectives immediately obeyed. A few loud coughs later and DCI Aitken was ready to speak to the team. "As everyone is probably aware there's been another murder." he informed them, pointing to the new photograph on the board. "Anne Duncan. 24 years old. Found strangled in a lane off Sauchiehall Street in the early hours of this morning." he said, looking at his notes. "She left a club, The Cube, around 1.30 am after an argument with her boyfriend and went home alone. She never made it. Her body was found at 3 am this morning." He paused for a few seconds and then slowly continued. "At the moment we don't know for sure, although a preliminary examination of her body suggests, that her death may be connected to the other victims. Until we are told different, her photograph will remain with the others. The post mortem is being carried out today so we will have some more news shortly. Forensics, as you know, will probably take longer to come up with some results."

"DI Henderson will instruct you." he announced before ushering the detective to the front of the room. "DI Watson and DS Wilson I would like you both to visit the boyfriend and get as much information as you can. DC Norton and DC Henley, I want you both to interview friends, family, workmates and neighbours." DI Henderson instructed. "Yes Sir." Mike and George replied in unison. "Yes Sir." DC's Norton and Henley replied. Mike had investigated many murders in his years as a detective and he knew that most murders were committed by someone known to the victim. It could be a boyfriend, husband, friend, neighbour or even a family member. The boyfriend had to be interviewed in order to determine if he was to be eliminated from the murder enquiry.

DCI Aitken walked towards the door and beckoned on DI Henderson to follow him. When he entered his room he slammed newspapers down on his table. "The bloody newspapers are having a field day calling us incompetent. Are my detective incompetent DI Henderson?" he asked with a scowl on his face that showed that he thought they were. "No Sir." he detective answered. "It's just unlucky that we have a string of murders again so soon after the serial killings of last year." DCI Aitken pounded his hands down hard on the old oak desk that had been gifted to him by the old DCI after he retired. "Unlucky! Unlucky! What kind of shite thing is that to say?" the DCI sprayed the older detective with saliva as he spoke.

As DI Henderson wiped the spit from his face he had something else to tell the DCI. "I don't think I'm the right person for lead detective. I think DI Watson should take over after all he has past experience with serial killers. He was in charge when they caught Paul Dillon for the last spate of killings." The DCI stared at him. "Is that so? Well I know for a fact that it was Detective Peterson who put one and one together and solved those murder cases. Not DI Watson." the DCI said with anger in his face. He knew that he would need to put DI Watson in charge and it would be better if he did it before he was ordered to do so by higher command.

He heard all about DI Watson from his old friend DI Brown who because of Mike Watson was transferred to Govan. There were also rumours flying around Govan that Mike Watson had dobbed another detective DI Taylor in for withholding evidence in a case a few years back. All the information was sketchy but on meeting Mike Watson he took an instant dislike to the man. "Send DI Watson to me right away." he ordered and with that DI Henderson was relieved. Even though he had no time for DI Watson, he knew that he himself was way out of his depth with these murder cases. Mike Watson had experience and if the shit hit the fan then it would be him who took the fall.

When DI Henderson told him that the DCI wanted to see him immediately, Mike was apprehensive. What was going on? Why would he want to see him? On reaching the door he knocked twice before the DCI shouted for him to enter. "Take a seat DI Watson." Mike did what he was told still uneasy about the situation. He never much liked DCI Aitken. He was a ball buster and a very unpleasant man to work with but he obeyed like a schoolboy meeting his head teacher "Seems like DI Henderson is out of his depths with these murders. So in light of that I have decided to make you lead detective in these cases. Any objections?" the DCI asked noticing the surprise in the detective's face. Mike was dumbfounded and wondered what on earth was going on. "DI Henderson suggested that you were a better man for the job as you have had experience with solving serial murders." The DCI went on. "I know you may be going on paternity leave soon so I want you to get stuck in. Someone else will take over if and when you go on leave." Mike didn't know what to say.

Over the last few days his wife, Susan, was becoming more and more uncomfortable and although the midwife said she had over 10 days to go, he wouldn't be surprised if she actually had the baby sooner. His thoughts were interrupted by the DCI. "Well what do you say?" he asked frustrated by the lack of enthusiasm shown by the detective. Mike stood up and said "Right Sir. I will do my best. Thank you for this opportunity. If that is all, I will get back to work." DCI Aitken nodded and with not another word said, Mike left the room much to the bewilderment of his superior officer.

Walking along the corridor Mike bumped into DS Wilson. "You will never guess what?" he said. "I'm now lead detective. DI Henderson couldn't hack it and the DCI gave the position to me. What the hell is going on?" George smiled at him and said "You are the best man for the job in fact I would go one further and say the only man for the job." "Did you have anything to do with this George?" Mike asked but the other detective shook his head. "You can thank DI Henderson." he said and Mike laughed. "That will be the bloody day."

"I was coming to find you to tell you that Anne Duncan's boyfriend is in the station and wants to talk." George told him. "Right. Well we better get this over with. Then I will call a meeting to discuss how things are going to be from now on." Mike replied and laughed again at the screwed up face of the other detective. "Don't worry George. We make a great team but only if we have DC Peterson with us." This time George laughed and with the tears running down his face he looked through the window and saw DC Peterson staring out at them. This only made him laugh even louder. "Control yourself George it's not that funny. Remember it was Peterson who caught the last serial killer. Well that's what he's telling everyone at the station." Mike told him. "Little swine. Sorry Mike, you may think he's great but I still think he is a little shit. Team work. That little shit doesn't know the meaning of the word."

When Mike and George approached the interview rooms they were told that James Gallagher was waiting for them at the front door. They decided to go back to Mike's office first and let the boyfriend stew for a few more minutes. "What do we know about him?" asked Mike. "Well it says here." replied George, looking at the file that the DCI Aitken had given him earlier. "He's a musician, a guitarist. He plays with a band called 'The Damned Evil Dead.' "Charming. Very original" laughed Mike. "Has anyone heard of them? I mean is the band famous?" he asked, trying to remember if he had ever heard of them. "No. They mostly play, according to these notes, the clubs around Glasgow but they don't get paid. It's mostly like a showcase, hoping that some big music executive will discover them." George replied.

"What's his day job then?" asked Mike. George looked at his notes. "Doesn't have one." he replied. "So he's an unemployed, would-be musician looking for a break." said Mike to himself under his breath. "OK. Let's go interview him."

Mike and George met James Gallagher and expressed their condolences before asking him to follow them to a quiet room so they could speak. They looked at the young man who was now sitting nervously tapping the table with his fingers. "Hello James." said Mike. "My name is DI Watson and this is DS Wilson." The two detectives sat down directly opposite him and George immediately opened a notebook to take notes. "What can we do for you?" asked Mike. "Catch the bastard that killed my Anne. That's what you can bloody do." he spat at them. "We are doing our best. Now can you tell me about the last time you saw Anne?" Mike asked. The young man dropped his head onto his hands and began to weep. "Let's start at the beginning. How long have you known Anne?" asked Mike. "Two years off and on." James replied. "Did you live together?" George asked him. "Only for a few months." the young man replied, glancing at George who was busy scribbling everything down on his notepad. George looked up. "Did you move in with her or did she move in with you." he asked. "I moved in with her." James replied, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"So what actually happened at the club? What lead up to the argument and what did you do after she left the club." asked Mike. "How did you know about the argument?" the young man asked rather confused. "There were at least a hundred witnesses." "Anne was the jealous type. I'm a musician you know. Girls hanging around me and that sort of thing. Anne was jealous of all the attention I was getting." he said with a smirk on his face.

Mike looked at the long greasy unkept hair and the young man's spotty face and had to stop himself from laughing. James Gallagher was in his early twenties. His long dark hair nearly reached his waist and looked like it could do with a good wash. He wore a black bandana on his head and had tattoos on the top of both arms. Mike couldn't quite make them out but thought he saw a snake wrapped around a sword. His clothing consisted of tatty blue ripped jeans and a very washed out black t-shirt. He had arrogance about him that Mike disliked.

"Well, the row was about nothing really. A chick recognised me from a gig the week before and we just got talking. One thing led to another, you know how it is." James Gallagher said with pride in his voice. "Where was Anne when this was going on?" asked George. "Oh. I think she went to the loo. You know, to spend a penny." James replied. "So what happened when she returned?" George asked. "I told you. She went nuts. Started shouting and swearing, calling me every name under the sun. I tried to calm her down but she wouldn't listen." replied James. "But it got physical didn't it James?" said Mike. "Yeah. She started hitting me. I backed away. I would never hit a woman. Anyway, she shoved me and I went flying across the room and landed on my arse in the middle of the dance floor. The last thing I saw was her storming outta the place. That's the last time I saw her." said James, beginning to sob again.

"Did you notice if anyone followed her outside?" George asked. "Naw." he replied shaking his head. "What happened after that James?" asked Mike, wondering if the tears were real or only crocodile tears. He had seen so many boyfriends, husbands and even wives of murder victims burst into tears only to find out later that they had killed their loved one themselves. "I went straight to the bar and ordered a Jack Daniels. I was mortified, everyone looking at me, knowing I'd been pushed about by a woman." James replied, wiping the tears from his eyes. "When did you leave the club?" George asked. "Around 2 am or shortly after that." he replied. "Did you go straight home?" Mike asked. "Naw, I went back to the bird's house." he replied staring at the floor. "The bird?" Mike asked. "Yeah, the bird that I met at the club. I think her names started with an S. Susan or Sally or something like that." said James, trying hard to remember her name.

"Have you got her address?" George asked. "Yeah, she just lives across the road from the club. Ground floor flat, you can't miss it. It has transfers of cats all over the windows. She loves cats, she's got five you know." James replied. "So you let your girlfriend, who had a few drinks, go home on her own. Why didn't you follow her?" Mike asked. "Well, I never thought. I was angry." James replied, bowing his head and beginning to weep again. "Did you call her?" George asked. "Call her? What for?" James asked, lifting his head. "To see if she got home safely." George replied. James Gallagher paused for a moment wondering where these questions were leading. "Naw." he at last replied, shaking his head. "Did Anne wear red lipstick?" Mike asked. "That's a weird question. How would I know?" James replied. "Think about it, please." said George. "This is important. "James thought about it for a few moments. "Naw." he answered. "Naw You mean No?" said Mike, shaking his head and now drumming on the table himself.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw George giving him a look and he immediately stopped. "Anne wore a pinkish lip-gloss. She was always topping it up every couple of minutes. It used to drive me nuts. Every time I looked over at her she was using the lip-gloss." James said. "Ok." said Mike. "Anything else you can remember about last night?" "Naw. Nothing." James replied. "I remember I was sick a couple of times. I must have had too many Jack Daniels."

George slammed his notebook shut which startled the young man for a moment. "Look I don't know nothing, Ok? I didn't kill her." James said, now getting agitated. "We never said you did James." Mike said looking at George. "I bloody came to speak to someone to see when I can get into the flat. It's all closed off and I need my guitar and shit. I have a gig coming up in a few days." the young man said with urgency in his voice. "It will be a few days. Ring us in a few days and we will let you know." Mike replied disgusted by the young man's attitude. How could he think of playing a gig when the lifeless body of his girlfriend was still lying in the mortuary? Sometimes people astounded him but this excuse of a boyfriend took the biscuit.

"Well, can I go then?" James Gallagher asked. "Yes. Sure. I think we have everything we need but we may need to talk to you again." replied Mike. The young man got up from his chair and walked towards the door. Opening the door, James Gallagher turned to Mike. "If you want to talk to me again I'm gonna make sure I have a lawyer with me." The door slammed shut.

"Well. What do you make of that then George?" asked Mike. "That," replied George "is a poor excuse for boyfriend." "In other words George, that is a fucking moron." said Mike, pointing at the door. "But I don't think he's got anything to do with his girlfriend's death." George nodded in agreement. "A moron yes, a murderer no." said Mike and with that the two detectives left the interview room. "Check out his alibi, see if he really was with that girl all night. Go to her flat, find out her name and remember the windows are covered with cats. Shouldn't be too hard to find." instructed Mike with a big grin on his face. "You know fine well that I hate bleeding cats. I'm allergic to them." George said and Mike nodded. "I know I was only joking. I will send DC Peterson to interview her."

An hour later DC Peterson returned and informed Mike that James Gallagher's alibi checked out. The girl's name was Susie Walker and she was with him all night on the night of the murder. The detective told him that, according to her, James Gallagher never left her side after Anne walked out the club. "I want everyone in here right now. Gather them up, time for a bit of motivation." ordered Mike. DC Peterson nodded and left the room to gather up the troops, who he was sure, were in the canteen.

A little while later Mike heard everyone pouring into the room ready for another briefing. "Right, let's get down to business" he said, scanning the room. "Just letting you all know that I am now in charge of the murder investigations." he told them glancing over at DI Henderson who was staring at the floor. "As everyone is aware, there's been another murder. Anne Duncan." he said, pointing to her photograph on the board. "DS Wilson and I spoke to the boyfriend a short time ago. Not much help unfortunately." he said "The post mortem results came in and concluded that the injuries matched those of the other victims. No forensic results yet. So it looks like our killer has struck again." he continued, looking at everyone nodding their heads as if they all knew that already, before the post mortem results confirmed it. Mike glanced over at DI Henderson who by this time was scribbling on a notepad. "Everyone pull your fingers out and get on with your work there is a killer to catch."

As the detectives began to move Mike stopped them "Another thing I want undercover detectives in Club Cuba. I've spoken to the Manager. Not very co-operative at first but as soon as I pointed out that the last victim was murdered shortly after leaving the club, and that there may be some connection to the club, he became very co-operative indeed. "I think a male and female detective." Mike stated, looking around the room. "DC Norton and DC Henley, you will be spending your time at Club Cuba. Keep an eye out for anyone acting suspicious. Mingle and mentally note down anything that you think might be relevant." Mike instructed.

James Henley and Joanne Norton glanced at each other. They had secretly been seeing each other over the last few months. They kept it very quiet and were sure no one at the station knew about it. Did Mike know? "Yes Sir." replied DC Henley. "Yes Sir." replied DC Norton. "Remember, you are both working." he said, winking at them. They both looked at each other again and their faces reddened.

"DI Henderson I want you to check anyone released from prison into the area in the last year. It's worth a chance you never know we might get lucky." DI Henderson nodded. Everyone else, I want door to door enquiries around a 5 mile radius of the murder victims and look into homeless units. See if anyone is missing or acting strangely. I want you to split into three groups. You decide who does what." Mike said looking around the room. "Everyone hop to it. I want results." continued Mike, slamming his hands on the desk with frustration.

As the detectives left the room to get on with their investigations PC King popped his head inside to tell George that he had a telephone call. Mike nodded to him to take the call.

On his return he announced that his wife Melissa was in labour. "What will I do Mike?" he asked. "Get to the bleeding hospital that's what." he replied with urgency in his voice. If it was Susan who was in labour he would have darted out of the station without a second thought of informing anyone.

As George grabbed his jacket and rushed towards the door Mike shouted after him. "Phone us and let us know if it's a boy or a girl." George nodded and within a few seconds had disappeared out of sight. Well, thought Mike, one detective down and he would be the next if Susan suddenly went into labour. Taking out his mobile he decided to call home and see how she was. No answer. Just typical of her, Mike thought, out and about as usual even in her condition. He made a mental note to chastise her and tell her to take it easy, after all it would be their third baby and because of that it could arrive very quickly.

Chapter 15

George and Melissa strolled around Kelvingrove Park pushing their new baby daughter in her pram. Her being out and about at only a few days old concerned George but he was reassured by Melissa that fresh air was good for her. "Lisa is beautiful. I've never seen anything so beautiful before in my entire life." he declared looking down at his new baby daughter and pulling her bonnet out of the way for a better look. "Look at all that black hair. I thought babies were all born practically bald but she has a full head of hair. Your hair, Melissa. She looks just like you." "Pull her bonnet back on its quite chilly." Melissa instructed smiling at her over enthusiastic husband who was now on paternity leave.

They were unaware that they were being watched from afar. He was transfixed by the woman's beauty. Who was she?

They sat on a nearby bench and ate the sandwiches that Melissa had lovingly prepared freshly that morning. George put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him as they sat enjoying being out together as a family. Melissa brought out a flask of hot coffee and poured out a cup for each of them. When they had finished George leant over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on, it's starting to get really cold. We need to get little Lisa back into the warmth." he said, pulling his wife up from the bench.

"Any news about your friend, DI Watson's wife? Has she had her baby yet?" Melissa asked. "No not yet but any day soon." he told her. "Not caught the murderer yet then?" she asked and he shook his head. "You know he will kill again if he isn't stopped." she told him and he nodded. "We have to think about the Christening. Who do you want as Godparents?" he asked trying to change the subject to something more cheerful.

He immediately saw her mood changing to something more somber. "I don't know it's up to you." she told him saddened by the fact she had no family to support her. Her mother and father had died many years ago and with no siblings she was on her own.

George instinctively knew what she was thinking and put his arm around her again to comfort her. "We have our own little family now babe. All we need from now on is each other and our beautiful little daughter." Melissa smiled at him. For some reason he always knew the exact thing to say to her to brighten her mood if she was feeling a bit down. "Tonight I'm going to cook dinner. You my lady are going to put your feet up." he told her before kissing her on the cheek again. "Hey, I might get used to this treatment." she told him.

They walked away laughing but as they were walking towards the exit, Melissa suddenly felt a cold shiver travel down her spine and she stopped dead in her tracks. "What's up?" he asked as he felt her grip on his arm tighten. "I don't know. It's weird. I have a strange feeling we are being watched." she replied, looking around the park. "All this talk of murder has unnerved you, that's all. Come on." he said continuing to walk and pulling her behind him. She shook off her uneasy feeling and continued walking through the park and through the iron gates towards home.

He saw her glancing over at him and lifted his newspaper up to cover his face. As he watched them walking off into the distance, he was puzzled. She seemed to have sensed that he was watching her. This was not his local park and had only gone to it as he was in the area visiting the nearby museum. On seeing this intriguing woman he thought that he might visit this park again.

Chapter 16

DC James Henley and DC Joanne Norton arrived at Club Cuba at around 11pm. It was nightshift work for them and although they were working, as Mike had reminded them, they were determined to enjoy themselves too. James brought the drinks over to the table and they immediately scanned the club for anything or anyone unusual. "Well, bottoms up." he said, downing a glass of whisky in one gulp. "Steady on, we're here all night? Pace yourself for God's sake." Joanne told him, daintily taking a sip out of her lager and lime. "OK love." he replied giving her a wink.

Joanne smiled at him and again scanned the room. "It's really dark in here. How are we supposed to see anything anyway?" she asked him. "Look, we just enjoy ourselves and keep our eyes open for anything unusual." he replied. "If you ask me everything about this place is weird." she said and watched as he flung his head back and began laughing. "That's not what you said last week when we were here." he told her. She gave him a growl before saying "Don't talk about last week. Do you think Mike Watson knows we were here on the night that poor girl was murdered?" she asked and he shook his head. "We didn't see anything. We didn't see the girl fighting with her boyfriend. We were away by the time that happened. So we don't need to tell anyone. Now come on relax and enjoy yourself. Remember we're being paid to be here and I for one intend to take full advantage of a night on the tiles that is paid for.

The next few hours were spent planning their first holiday together and trying to decide whether to go to Spain or Portugal. After discussing the pros and cons of going to either one of these countries in March, they opted for Portugal and the Algarve, deciding to book up on the internet the next day.

They left the club around 3am and James hailed a taxi. Stopping outside Joanne's apartment, he bent over to kiss her goodnight. "Are you coming in?" she asked. "Do you want me too?" he replied. "Of course." she answered, taking his hand and pulling him from the taxi. He paid the fare and they both ran up together to her apartment, holding hands and giggling like teenagers.

Chapter 17

DC James Henley usually made a point of returning to his own home to sleep, but somehow Joanne had persuaded him to spend the night with her. He awoke in the morning to the aroma of freshly cooked bacon and jumping out of bed, immediately raced to the kitchen. Joanne was standing at the cooker, frying bacon and eggs when James sneaked up behind her and put his arms around her waist and began kissing the back of her neck. "Stop it you." she said, turning to face him and pushing him away. "I'm trying to be a good girlfriend and cook breakfast for you. You could try to be a good boyfriend and go have a shower." she said, pointing to the bathroom. "Ok mummy." he answered and went off to shower, leaving her to put the breakfast out.

After breakfast he offered to wash the dishes and Joanne was pleased that he did. She liked a man that pulled his weight around the house and sipping her coffee, watched as he put the dishes into the sink.

A few minutes and one or two smashed plates later, he was finished. "We have to report into the station this morning." she told him. "I know but we have nothing to report. So we will be back at the club tonight." he replied. "Happy days." he said rubbing his hands together with glee.

That night they returned to the club. They had spent all day together and without prying eyes. Joanne was scared of them being found out. As well as being in a relationship with James she enjoyed working with him. They made a great team but if one or other was moved to another station she wondered if they would soon drift apart. So their relationship had to keep secret and she hoped they were doing a good job of covering up their love but she was suspected that DI Watson may have sussed out that they were an item.

This time they were dressed more casually to ensure they blended in better than the night before. James had told her that they stood out like a sore thumb as they had been dressed too smartly.

"God it's busy in here tonight. We'll be lucky to get a seat." he informed her. "Maybe we should just stand up at the bar. Look there's some bar stools. We can sit over there and we'll get a better look around the place. What do you think?" she asked him. "I think." he whispered into her ear "You look good enough to eat." She smiled at him and shook her head before informing him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to keep his mind on the job. There was plenty of time later for him to be so flirtatious.

They sat at the bar sipping their drinks and once again scanned the sea of faces around the club. After a few hours and a few drinks later they decided to throw caution to the wind and take to the dance floor. James looked at Joanne and smiled. It was good to see her enjoying herself, as she was sometimes too serious for her own good. She, in turn, looked at James and thought of how lucky she was to have met him. He was everything that she had ever wanted and hoped their relationship would last the distance. They stayed at the club late that night simply because they were having so much fun.

As they stood waiting to hail a taxi they noticed how crowded the streets were, and decided to walk along the road a bit instead of standing freezing outside the club. James put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. "Well?" he asked "Do you want me to stay tonight too?" "Of course." she answered, giving him a dig in his side with her elbow. "Do I get breakfast in bed this time?" he asked as he put his hand out to hail a taxi.

Chapter 18

He looked at himself in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was wearing a blue suit that he had bought cheap from a charity shop and his shoulder length black hair had now been cut to a more suitable length to make him look respectable. He wanted to give a good impression at his interview. An Administrative Officer at Pitt Street Police Station, that would be just crazy, he thought. He wanted this job more than he had ever wanted a job before. He needed this job and not just for the money.

He arrived at the station ten minutes before his interview time and as he entered the building he was filled with a sense of anticipation. As he approached the desk to give his name to the police constable he saw that another man was speaking to him. He recognized the man as the same man he saw with the dark haired woman in Kelvingrove Park just a few days ago. The woman had intrigued him and seemed to sense that he was watching her. But this man irritated him by laughing and joking with the police constable and keeping him waiting. By the snips of conversation he overheard the man was making jokes about the candidates. Something to do with how they looked like a right bunch of criminals and that most of them were wasting their time coming for the interview as they had a snowballs chance in hell of getting the job. He suddenly stopped talking and glanced at his watch before turning towards him and smiling. "You really shouldn't sneak up on people. Speak up and make your presence known." the man said as he looked at the policeman behind the desk and laughed. DS Wilson the policeman had called him and as the detective walked away he found himself getting angry.

He gave his name to the PC King at the reception desk and sat down to await his interview. As he watched the detective leaving the building he felt his body becoming tense and found his fists clenching with anger. His thoughts were interrupted when his name was called and he entered the room to find that it was a panel interview. Three interviewers sat behind a huge table looking at him, as if scrutinising his every move. He was nervous but tried to remain focused. Each person, in turn, asked him a series of questions. He tried to appear confident and was told at the end of the interview, that he would find out if he was successful by the end of the day.

He left the station felling elated and went across the road to the café for something to eat. The interview had gone well, he was sure of that. He had made a good impression and all he had to do now was to wait for that call. He left the café and returned home quickly. He didn't want to miss the call, the call that would tell him that yes, he had the job. But he waited and he waited. He sat in his apartment not wanting to go out in case he missed the call. The call never came. He spent the evening flicking through the television channels trying to find something interesting to watch. By 9 pm he had had enough and went to bed. He was in a foul mood. Why didn't they call? He wondered if he made a mistake and that they really said they would send a letter. Yes, he thought, they would send him a letter.

Chapter 19

The letter he was waiting so impatiently for arrived early in the morning and, as he stared at the envelope for a few moments, he pondered at what it might say. It informed him that he was unsuccessful and thanked him for attending the interview. He tore the letter into a hundred bits, cursing as he did so, and began to feel the tension rising in his body. Every muscle ached. He felt the headache returning and sat down on the sofa with his hands on his head. He couldn't believe that he never got the job. What went wrong? He was sure he had a good interview so why?

He spent the rest of the day sitting watching television, not actually taking anything in. He was in a dark, dark mood and knew he would be like that for the rest of the day. By 6 pm he was starving and made himself some dinner consisting of bacon, two fried eggs and baked beans.

After dinner he washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen table with bleach before throwing himself onto the sofa. He started flicking through the television channels trying to find something to watch. Something that would hopefully lift his headache and his black mood.

After an hour he gave up and went to bed. He found it impossible to sleep. His mind was tormented. Damn them, he thought, damn them all to hell. His head was pounding so he took a handful of painkillers and spent the next hour pacing up and down his bedroom floor before eventually falling into bed, only for the memories to return.

It is night time and his mother is getting dressed to go out to the pub with her friends. She is in a good mood, laughing and singing to his little sister. He watches as she applies her makeup and takes extra care with her bright red lipstick. He and his sister would be left alone again to fend for themselves. His sister begs her mother to put some lipstick on her. His mother laughs and he watches with anger as she applies the lipstick to his little sister. His sister immediately parades around the living room with her hand on her hip as if she was a model. She looks like a mini version of his mother which angers him even more. She has their mother's face, long black hair and hazel eyes.

As soon as his mother leaves he pulls his sister into the bathroom and wipes the lipstick from her face. His sister cries and cries but he doesn't care there was no way that he wants her to look like their mother.

It's now light outside and he is awakened by his mother staggering into the house and bumping against the furniture. He stays in his bed for hours, too afraid to come out, and when he thinks it's safe he rises and quietly walks into the living room. He finds his mother lying on the sofa in a drunken stupor, smelling of alcohol, and her bright red lipstick is smeared across her face making her look like a clown.

The memories of that night, the night when the cruelty stopped, the night when his mother went away, the night he was liberated, the night when he lost his sister forever, crept into his subconscious as he slept. These were memories from his childhood that he tried hard to hide in the recesses of his brain but they always resurfaced. There was no escape from them.

Chapter 20

He sat in the café across the road from the police station, drinking his second cup of coffee thinking of revenge. He saw a man coming out of the police station and as he walked along the road immediately recognised him as DS Wilson. He had seen him on the day of the interview and had taken an instant dislike to the man. He was talking and laughing with the PC on the reception desk and making jokes about the candidates. He had been rude accusing him of sneaking up on him and had put him off his stride so by the time he had the interview he was tense and angry. He was the reason that he didn't get the job. The arrogant detective had spoiled his chance of getting the job that he had so desperately wanted. Now here he was sauntering down the road talking to someone on his mobile, without a care in the world. He didn't have to scrape for pennies to pay bills and buy food. He didn't scour the newspapers desperately needing a job. No, he was set for life. Thinking about him made his blood boil. Some people have all the luck in this life and other like him, were doomed to a life of misery.

When Melissa answered the telephone his heart skipped a beat. "Hello" she said. "Hello yourself. It's only me." answered George. "Well detective are you needed at the station again or can you enjoy you paternity leave now?" she asked. "If you must know I'm not at the bleeding station I'm out shopping." he told her. "They only wanted me in for an update on the murder investigations. I need to be kept in the loop. I told you this already but now that I'm in town I'm shopping for your birthday present my darling, I want to know if you need anything brought in." There was a few seconds of silence before Melissa answered. "My birthday present! Well I'm asking no questions then but could you bring me in some nappies. You know the size. She seems to go through packs and packs of them." she told him. "Ok then nappies it is." he answered. "And my birthday present." she told him. The detective looked as if he had a lot on his mind. If only he knew the person he was so desperate to catch was actually only a few yards away. He laughed to himself and knew that he was so much cleverer than all the detectives put together. They would never catch him, as he was always a step ahead.

He left the café, deciding that now was as good a time as any to get rid of him. Why should he live the good life when others like him, had to make do with whatever meager amount that the government threw at them? What kind of life was that? He would have his revenge on the man who ruined his chance of obtaining the dream job.

The traffic was horrendous at that time of day and only a small push would send him flying into the oncoming traffic. He just needed to find the right moment. George suddenly stopped to look in the window of a nearby electrical shop.

Through the window he noticed a young dark-haired man standing further down the street, who seemed to be staring at him. He continued walking along the street and after a few minutes, stopped to look in the window of a newsagent. Once again, he noticed the same young man's reflection in the shop window.

George turned to face him and watched as he suddenly rushed past him towards the bus stop and joined the queue of people waiting at the stop. He shook his head and continued on his way, telling himself that he was too edgy these days and his imagination was running away with him. He never gave the man another thought and made his way along Sauchiehall Street and the many shops that he was sure he would visit before he found the perfect present for Melissa's birthday, which was in a few days. It's funny, he thought, no-one seems to use the zebra crossings anymore. Instead they take their lives in their hands by dodging the traffic and DS Wilson was no exception. He stood behind the others at the pavement and looking at the detective, noticed that he seemed distracted by his thoughts. One minute George was standing next to the pavement and the next he was sent flying across the road and was hit by a car.

He stood amongst the crowd watching as the detective tried to get up onto his feet and heard people shouting at him to stay still, as the ambulance was on its way. The arrogant detective ignored their pleas and got to his feet anyway and staggered around before falling to his knees. He watched as an ambulance arrived and ferried him away to the hospital. This did not go as he wished. The arrogant detective was still alive.

After having some x-rays, George was told that he was lucky not to have any broken bones after his accident. They wanted him to stay for a few hours for observation but he declined saying that he only had a few bumps and bruises. The doctor told him to take painkillers and if he felt dizzy in any way, to call the hospital. George thanked him and left the hospital and called Melissa, who flipped when she heard he had been knocked down. He reassured her that he was fine and was continuing his shopping before returning home.

By the time he returned home his bruised ribs were aching and of course he forgot all about the nappies. Melissa didn't care and had thrown her arms around his neck as soon as he came through the door. "How are feeling now? You should have come straight home." she said thankful that he was still in one piece. George was ushered straight to bed. "You need your rest." Melissa had told him and he didn't have the strength to argue. As he lay in bed he thought about the accident and how it could have happened. Did he trip? He couldn't remember as it was all a blur. The strong painkillers that the hospital prescribed made him tired and he was soon fast asleep.

Chapter 21

He sat in Victoria Park reading his newspaper. The park was his favourite place to come to and just relax. It was within walking distance from his home and he often jumped the iron fences in the middle of the night when the park was closed. This was a place that he remembered visiting as a child and held good memories for him. It was full of flower beds which came to life in the Spring. Although this was October the place was still beautiful and always full of families, joggers and people walking their dogs. The park was built in 1887 and although part of it was taken away to make slip roads for the Clyde Tunnel it was still a large and beautiful park. It had a unique feature that set it apart from other parks and that was The Fossil Grove, which was discovered when builders cut through a large area of rock to build a road. The route of the road was soon diverted when they discovered preserved fossilized tree trunks. The park also had a memorial honouring the local residents who died in World War I and World War II, a swing park and a pond with two small islands connected on both sides by iron bridges.

When he was a child he would often skip school and play in the park for hours before having to drag himself home. The park soon became his haven. A place where he could sit and let the world go by and all his worries would disappear. His thoughts of happier times were interrupted by the sound of children's laughter. He saw their faces filled with happiness as they squealed with delight on the swings and suddenly he felt a sense of loneliness. For the first time he felt lonely, and this was an emotion that he had never felt before. The emotion was unfamiliar and unwanted.

A little red haired boy fell from the swing and his mother immediately ran over to comfort him, cradle him in her arms and whispering soft reassurances to him. This was the childhood that he had craved for. Why was his childhood so different? Why was there no one to comfort him when he was hurt? Why was his mother such an uncaring, brutal bitch?

He never knew what love was until he met Monica, and now that she was gone he was sure that he would never love again. This is why he turned out the way he was, angry, lonely and full of bitterness, he thought. The only emotion he had felt for most of his life was anger. No one cared about him. No one loved him. He hated the world and everyone in it. He had in the past thoughts of ending it all, but those feelings were quickly replaced with thoughts of vengeance. Vengeance against a cruel world that had abandoned him to his fate.

He wondered if these so called caring mothers in the park, were actually as caring at home or if it was all for show. He knew how devious his mother was and how she could put on the façade of a caring mother whenever it suited her. He remembers the beatings that he had endured for years. Why was no one there to help him? Why did no one care? He shook off his thoughts. Whenever he thought of his mother it made him tense.

He suddenly heard a small girl screaming and witnessed her mother smacking her across the legs. He wanted to run over there and give the mother a smack but decided to get up and walk away from the commotion. He needed to clear his head.

Chapter 22

This was a special day for him, his birthday. He got out of bed as soon as he had heard the postman. A solitary white envelope lay beside the door and he eagerly opened it, ripping the envelope like an excited child. Opening the birthday card he reads the message aloud, 'Happy Birthday from your loving family' and smiles to himself as he takes it into the living room and places it on the fireplace. He knew exactly who had sent it. It was the same person who had sent him a birthday card every year for the last ten years. He had made sure he had put a 1st class stamp on it this time as last year it had arrived a day late.

He reached out for the whisky bottle and poured himself a generous measure before lifting his glass in the air and shouting "Happy Birthday." He gulped the whisky down in one go and the warmth of the golden dram made him feel happy and warm inside. He couldn't wait until the evening. He had arranged to go out with Ian and his old work mates to have some fun. They would go to their favourite club, get drunk and enjoy themselves. Everyone should have fun on their birthday; after all, today was a special day.

Later in the evening, at the club, Ian told him to apply for his old job back. This surprised him until he informed him that he was now a manager and that he could make sure that he got his job back. He thought about it for a moment before declining the offer, telling him that he wasn't interested in call centre work anymore and that he had a few interviews lined up. Ian told him to think about it and he agreed before ordering another round of drinks.

When he returned home he sat on the sofa with a can of lager laughing to himself. There was no way on earth he was going back to work in a call centre even if his friend Ian was a manager. He had more important things on his mind now.

Chapter 23

He stood on the corner looking down the street at where DS Wilson's car was parked. It was beginning to get cold so he pulled up the collar of his black jacket before searching his pockets for his leather gloves. He pulled his woolen hat down further down his head to mask his face before making his way towards the car. It was only by sheer luck that he had found out where he lived. He had been on a bus returning from Glasgow when he had glanced out of the window and saw the detective's car parked in Hill Street. The next evening he had stood across the street and saw them pulling up to the three bedroom villa.

He watched as they entered the house and saw them switching on the light in the living room before closing the blinds. They lived in a newly built housing area which still had a lot of building work being carried out on it. It had a mixture of Town Houses, Semi-detached and Detached houses. Most of them were still to be finished off and most of them were still empty. That was when he had formulated his plan. All he needed now was opportunity.

At 8pm DS Wilson left the house to nip to the shops and was unaware that he was being watched from the shadows as he walked towards his car. George Wilson didn't notice his attacker sneaking up behind him. He pulled out a heavy lead pipe that he had concealed in his jacket and hit him full force across the back of the head, sending him across the bonnet of his car.

Immediately the car alarm went off and he knew he wouldn't have much time. As George turned to face him with blood pouring down his face he was hit again and again. George reached out and pulled the hat from his head which startled him and he immediately ran off down the street taking the hat and the weapon with him.

When he rounded the corner he pulled his hat back on and took off his leather gloves and put them in his jacket pocket. Cursing to himself he kept to the shadows making his way home. The detective had been stronger than he had anticipated and had reached out and pulled the hat from his head. Did he see his face? Did he recognise him from the police station? His head was filled with all eventualities. Will he be caught and charged? Will they find out about the rest? He felt his headache returning and rushed along the road as fast as he could in order to get home quickly. He would need to stay at home and keep a low profile until it all blows over.

Melissa, hearing the car alarm, looked out of the window and saw her husband lying on the pavement against the car, and immediately rushed outside. She screamed when she saw him covered in blood. She cradled him in her arms and he tried to speak for a moment before slipping into unconsciousness.

Neighbours came running out of their apartments as soon as they heard her screaming and one of them called for an ambulance when he saw the extent of her husband's injuries. Melissa sat on the cold pavement cradling George in her arms, crying hysterically. When the paramedics arrived they had to pull her away from him in order to get him into the ambulance.

It was the first time that he had used a weapon and was unsure whether or not the blows that the detective had sustained were enough to kill him. He must be dead, and if not dead then severely brain damaged, he hoped. By the time he reached home his hands were shaking. He felt scared and he didn't like this new sensation as it reminded him of how he felt as a child.

As soon as he reached home he took a handful of painkillers before removing his blood stained clothes and jumping into a hot shower. He hoped this would calm him down but his hands were still shaking as he gathered up all his clothes, including his shoes, and placed them in a carrier bag ready to dispose of the next day.

He had one more thing to do first. Cleaning the blood from the iron bar, he wrapped it in some newspaper before also placing it in the carrier bag. Taking bleach from under the sink he began to clean the shower, trying to ensure that all the blood had completely disappeared.

When he was finished he splashed some cold water onto his face and glanced in the mirror above the bathroom sink. He didn't recognise himself. Who was this man looking back at him? His face was thin and gaunt and he had dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like a scared rabbit caught in a car's headlights. Then he saw his mother's face looking back at him, which startled him. 'Bitch' he shouted before smashed the mirror with his fist.

He hid the bag of blood stained clothes under the sink. He knew exactly where to dispose of them but that would have to wait until the next day. His hands were still shaking as he reached for the whisky bottle.

Chapter 24

Melissa called the police station and told Mike about the attack on George. He was shocked but assured her that he would go immediately to the hospital. George Wilson was now in Intensive Care. He had sustained a hairline fracture of his skull, broken collar bone and several broken ribs. He was being kept sedated in order to reduce the swelling in his brain. All Melissa could do was pray.

When Mike saw him lying in the hospital bed, all battered and bruised with a drip in his arm he was shocked. Why would someone attack George? A nurse rushed to his side informing him that the patient was too ill for visitors. He had a serious head injury and would be kept sedated to give his brain time to heal.

"Oh Mike." cried Melissa rushing out to the corridor and throwing herself into his arms and weeping. "He could have been killed." Mike patted her back and said "Don't worry. George is as tough as old nails. He'll be up and about in no time, just wait and see." He was trying to reassure her but George looked bad, he thought, really bad. "We will start a full investigation immediately. An officer will be coming to see you soon to take a statement." he told her. "Where is the baby?" he asked and she told him that a neighbour was kind enough to watch her until she was able to get home. "Have you told his family yet?" he asked. "Yes they are on their way down. They should be here soon." she replied beginning to cry again. "Why would someone do this to him Mike?" she asked and all he could do was shake his head. "Maybe it was a mugging." he suggested but she told him that he still had his wallet with him so it couldn't have been a mugging. There must have been another reason for the attack, Mike thought. Was it someone who wanted revenge in some way? Someone he sent to prison?

He left Melissa when George's family arrived at the hospital. His mother and father, brother and sister were all asking questions but at that moment he could not give them any answers. He assured them that everyone at the station would leave no stone unturned in their pursuit of the person responsible for the attack.
Chapter 25

When he saw the article in the newspaper the next morning he was angry. How was he still alive? He had hit him several times and was sure that he was dead. That man has a skull like a rock, he thought. It said in the paper that a man had sustained multiple head injuries and was in a comfortable condition at a local hospital. He knew instinctively who it was. Damn it, now what was he going to do? He must get away for a while and clear his head.

He thought of trying to get to the detective in the hospital but he knew that it would be difficult, if not impossible. He was annoyed by the fact that the detective may have seen his face. It was no good, he told himself; he had to find out for himself whether he would remember him, after all he may be severely brain damaged. He might not remember anything.

He walked towards the hospital, unsure of what actions he would take. If he looked like he was at death's door or brain damaged, he would leave him. However, if there was even a chance that he could recover then he had to take the risk of trying to kill him. If he was arrested for attacking him then all his other little deeds may be found out. He couldn't take the chance. He wouldn't take the chance.

He saw Melissa and another man coming out of the hospital doors and hid in the shadows. As Melissa said her goodbyes to Mike she turned and walked into the hospital again. But something made her turn her head and she saw him standing at the corner. He looked familiar somehow, she thought, but shook her head. He felt the excitement rising within him. She saw him. She actually looked into his eyes. Damn it, does she know something? He had no time to think, he had to follow her. She would lead him to the detective and if he had the chance he would make sure that he never recovered.

He saw her going into a lift and quickly rushed to catch the same lift, only making it by a few seconds before the door closed on him. The lift was crowded and he made his way to the back as to try and hide himself amongst the crowd.

He noticed that she got out at the 4th floor \- Intensive Care Unit. The detective must be in a bad way then, he thought to himself, not taking his eyes off her even for a moment as she rushed along the corridor. This was going to be quite difficult, he thought, but he felt that he didn't have a choice. He slowly left the lift and followed her along the corridor to ICU.

He would ask how he was and then he would have a better idea of what to do. She eventually came out, after only 20 minutes, and was wiping the tears from her face with her handkerchief. "Hello?" he asked, moving slowly towards her. "Sorry, I'm a work colleague. I heard what happened and I was wondering how he was getting on." he told her and she smiled at him as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "He's got a fractured skull, broken collar bone and broken ribs but the doctors say they're confident he'll recover. Do you want a statement at this moment because I would rather wait until tomorrow? If you don't mind" she told him. He wanted him dead and now it looked like he was going to recover. FUCK! He looked at her and said "Tomorrow will be fine."

Just then other friends of George appeared and he knew that this was not the time to finish the job that he had started. He would have to think this through and come up with a fool-proof plan for killing off this fucking detective that seems to have a rock for a skull. Another problem entered his mind. She saw him. She spoke to him. She looked into his eyes. There was nothing for it; he would have to get rid of her too. He decided there and then that the detective could wait; he had to get rid of her first.

Chapter 26

Melissa stayed at the hospital day and night not wanting to leave her husband's side. His sister took over babysitting which left her time to stay with him and talk to him. He never answered her but she always talked. It would be a few days before he would be brought out of his induced coma. The MRI had shown a reduction in the swelling on his brain and any day now they would bring him round and hopefully he would be fine.

The nurse told her to go home and rest. She refused. The nurse suggested that she should at least go home and have a shower and something to eat. She thought about it and had to concede that it seemed a good idea. George had his family about him and she should really spend some time with her daughter. She agreed.

On returning home, his sister Patricia said she wanted to visit her brother and Melissa thanked her for babysitting and told her to take as long as she wanted. Closing the door shut behind her Melissa suddenly felt a sense of unease. Walking into the living room she switched on the light and immediately felt that something was amiss. Something wasn't right but as she looked around the room she saw that everything was exactly the way she left it. She shook her head. George being attacked had unnerved her and she was letting her imagination run away with her. She went upstairs and tiptoed into her daughter bedroom and seeing that she was fast asleep in her cot, planted a kiss on her forehead.

Returning to the living room, she walked into the kitchen to make something to eat and suddenly heard a crash coming from one of the bedroom. She let out a shriek and crept out of the kitchen, through the living room and into the hallway.

Rushing up the stairs she checked each bedroom and saw nothing amiss. Shaking her head she made her way back down the stairs towards the kitchen. She was far too jumpy, she told herself, she needed to get a grip and calm down.

As soon as she returned to the kitchen she saw him. He was standing at the sink with his arms folded across his chest. "Hello there." he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry for scaring you." he said, moving towards her. She slowly backed away from him and knew she had to remain calm. "Sorry but what are you doing here?" she asked confused that he had walked into her house instead of ringing the doorbell. "What do you think I'm doing here?" he replied. "Well there is no more news about George." she told him and he threw his head back and laughed. "You think I care about that bastard?" he said through gritted teeth. "I don't understand. You were at the hospital." she said staring at him. "I was there to finish the job." he told her and she felt a thud in her heart. She knew at that moment that he had attacked and tried to murder her husband.

She tried to recall everything she had learned in her many years as a psychologist. "Would you like some tea." she asked, moving towards him and reaching out to switch on the kettle. "We could sit and have a chat. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" He looked at her suspiciously but decided to play along with the game. What was she doing? What was she thinking? No harm in playing along just for a bit, he thought. No need to rush things. He always wanted to be psychoanalysed, "Yes thanks, tea would be fine. No sugar though, I'm sweet enough." he replied, walking over the worktop where she was standing.

For a second she wondered if she should throw the hot water from the kettle in his face and make a run for it but she would never have time to grab her baby and get out the front door. No, she thought, I will try to talk myself out of this situation. Taking the two mugs into the living room, she laid them down on the coffee table. She sat down on the sofa and he sat on the armchair, directly across from her, his eyes never leaving her not even for a second. "What will we talk about." he said, smiling at her. "Whatever you want." she answered, taking a sip of tea and feeling it hard to swallow. Her insides were like jelly while he seemed to be very much in control.

"Well. Let's talk." he said, looking over the rim of his cup. She immediately looked up and when her eyes met his, she could see the hatred. She held his gaze for a few seconds before dropping her gaze to the floor. She was silent, how could she respond to that? She didn't know how to reply to him and decided to keep quiet instead. She suddenly remembered his face, his eyes. He was at the hospital. How did he find out where she lived? Who was he? Why was he doing this? Panic started to rise within her and her heart felt like it was trying to jump out of her chest. He was sitting in her living room drinking tea with her. Someone please, please come and rescue me, she screamed inside her head. Please God, let someone come and rescue me.

He put his mug down on the table and gave her a smile. He knew what was going to happen and suspected that she did too. He wondered what kind of resistance she would put up. She didn't look very strong definitely not a match for him. "Well how did you know where I lived." she said, trying to appear calm but all the time shaking inside. She felt as though she would have a panic attack at any moment. She used to suffer from panic attacks quite often when she was younger. "I followed you. I've been following you for the past week or so." he replied, staring at her and noticing how uncomfortable she was which made him feel very much in control.

So he has been watching me, she thought. Why hadn't I noticed? She was sure he was going to make a move very soon and wondered how she was going to handle it. She had a mug in her hand and wondered if she could use that as a weapon. No, that wasn't good enough, she decided. The best thing to do was talk to him; try to establish some kind of connection. "Tell me about yourself" she asked, all the time looking around to see if there was anything nearby she could use to defend herself. "What would you like to know?" he replied, grinning from ear to ear. He liked this game. He never really got to talk with his victims, this was fun. "Your life story, what makes you tick?" she asked. He knew that she wasn't really interested in his life story and knew she was playing for time. To hell with it, he thought, doesn't make any difference to me and decided to play along with her, but only for a short while.

"Do you mean what made me the way I am? Do you think it's something in my childhood? he asked suddenly laughing. "Do you know they have been looking for me for a long time? I've killed before many times. In fact your husband was probably investigating the murders. But I'll tell you something it wasn't my fault. The bitches deserved everything they got."

She stared at him in disbelief and suddenly felt overwhelmed with fear. He was the serial killer they had all been looking. And he was completely and utterly insane. She had to play for time and keep him talking. But the most important thing she had to do was to somehow come up with a plan of escape. How was she going to get out of this dangerous situation?

"Well, where do I start?" he asked, wringing his hands together. She watched him becoming more and more agitated. "Well, do you have a job?" she stuttered, trying to quickly get back to a calmer situation. "You asked about what makes me tick. No going back now. No, no." he said, standing up and pacing up and down the floor. She looked to her right and saw a table lamp beside her and moved her hand slowly towards it. If he made a run towards her she would try to hit him over the head with it and make a dash for the front door.

"My mother was a bitch, a drunken sadistic bitch. Yeah, I know, the old cliché, a killer always hates his mother and you know it's true. Well it's true in my case anyway, I hated her fucking guts." he explained, continuing to pace up and down wringing his hands as he did so. "In fact I hate all fucking women." he continued and she noticed how he was becoming more and more angry. Not a good sign, she told herself. Any minute now he would make a run for her, she was sure of that. All her nerves were tingling. She had to keep focused, keep calm, and keep a clear head. She would not let him frighten her as that was exactly what he wanted. "So you hate women then. You said it was all women. Surely there must have been a few women in your life that you felt close too?" she asked, not really caring how he answered but had to pretend that she was. "I loved one once but she......" he stopped speaking and stood looking at her.

She was clever, trying to get him to open up, trying to get him to let all his emotions out. Very clever. The silence between them now was excruciating. It was only for a few moments but seemed like eternity. "You know what I have to do don't you." he said, moving slowly towards her. She watched as he took out his black leather gloves from his jacket pocket. She watched as he put the gloves on his hands and pulled them up tight before clenching his fists. "Wait!" she shouted "I'm hungry, can I makes something to eat?" she pleaded. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed, wondering why someone about to die would suddenly feel hungry. She noticed his puzzled look. "Well, a condemned person has the right to ask for something to eat surely." she stated and stood up to face him. He was stunned and wondered what the hell she was playing at. Her calmness unnerved him. She was stalling for time but her knight in shining armour wouldn't be coming to save her. He was in hospital unconscious. He looked at her and noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. For the first time in his life he felt something that resembled compassion, but only slightly. He had waited this long, a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference he decided. "Ok. But make it quick." he ordered.

She moved away from him slowly and went into the kitchen, aware that he was following close behind her. Walking over to the sink she saw that the bread knife was on the drying board where she had left it that morning. She quickly pushed it up inside her jumper sleeve and held it against her chest as she reached for a plate. She knew there was no escaping him. It was now time to kill or be killed.

Within seconds he was standing behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Was he going to strike now? She moved to the left and put the plate down on the worktop. "What are you making?" he asked, looking over her shoulder. "Just a few sandwiches, I need to get the butter and ham out of the fridge." He nodded his approval and she moved over to the fridge making sure the bread knife didn't slip from her sleeve.

Returning to the worktop she began to make some sandwiches. "Are you hungry? Would you like one?" she asked, staring into his eyes. "Yeah." he answered, reaching over her and taking a sandwich from the plate.

She knew she had to make the first move and catch him off guard. As he took a bite from the sandwich, she let the knife slip into the palm of her hand and turning to face him, lunged it into his stomach. The sandwich fell from his mouth and a look of astonishment covered his face. He let out a gasp. He had never felt such intense pain before. He thought he knew what pain felt like after all the abuse he had suffered as a boy but this pain was different. He knew instinctively that this pain would kill him.

Her legs turned to jelly. She knew she had to make a run for it but her legs wouldn't move. Fuck, she thought, and reaching over grabbed the microwave and hit him full force on the head with it. He fell to the floor and for a few seconds was stunned. She immediately ran out of the kitchen making her way to the living room, just as he pulled the knife from his aching stomach and dropped it on the floor. The blood spurted everywhere but he ignored it and ran after her. He caught up with her as she ran towards the door. "Fucking bitch." he shouted, chasing after her.

"Get back here." he demanded, reaching out and grabbing her jumper. She felt herself jerk backwards and suddenly she was flying through the air and banged her head on the wall before slipping to the floor. He stormed towards her now with blood dripping from his forehead and pouring from the wound in his stomach. He pulled her up and pinned her against the wall. "Well, well, well. That was unexpected." he whispered into her ear. He put his cheek against hers and his face fell down to her throat where he began to kiss her which made her flinch. Her white jumper was now covered in his blood.

He grabbed her by the throat with one hand, using the other hand to somehow try to stem his blood from pouring out. "The others begged for their lives. Aren't you going to beg? he asked, with his face so close to hers that she could smell the tobacco from his breath which made her stomach wretch. "Do you want me to beg? Is that how you get your thrills you bastard" she spat at him.

He smiled at her and suddenly kissed her on the lips which startled her. She pulled her face to the side to get away from his kiss. "What's the matter? I'm not good enough eh? Not good enough for a whore like you." he said through gritted teeth. She instinctively head butted him which stunned them both for a few seconds. Ignoring her throbbing head she made a dash towards the kitchen door and managed to open it before he caught up with her.

She closed the door quickly behind her and sat down on the floor trying to prevent him from getting in. She put her whole body against the door trying to keep it shut as he pushed and pushed, trying to get in. "Bitch!" he shouted, throwing his whole body against the door. The door began to move and although she tried to scream she was struck dumb with fear. He felt himself becoming weaker but still had the strength to give the door a final push which opened it just enough for him to get outside. She stood up quickly and before she could make a run for it he slapped her across the face with such force that she flew across the kitchen and landed on her back.

She crawled into the living room on her hands and knees as he hovered over her watching her every move. He pushed her onto her back and straddled her. His face touching her face his lips touching her lips which made her sick to her stomach. The blood from the wound above his eye and from his nose dripped onto her face. She tried wildly to kick him off her but he grabbed her by her hair and began banging her head off the floor, over and over again. "Please." she pleaded, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. "Now you're begging. Good girl." he said as he put his hands around her neck and begin to squeeze. She struggled grabbing at his hands, trying to release his grip. He suddenly felt himself becoming weaker. The pain from his head and his nose were becoming unbearable. He was used to headaches but this one was more extreme than he had ever felt.

He felt no pain from the knife wound to his stomach but the blood was pouring out of him at an incredible rate. His hands felt weak and eventually fell from her throat and he collapsed on top of her. She screamed and immediately threw him off and he landed on his back with a thud. She jumped to her feet and looked down at him. He was clutching his stomach and staring at the ceiling. He suddenly looked up at her and smiled. "You did it. You killed me." he muttered.

Her body was shaking from head to toe and she wanted to run but was rooted to the spot. When she suddenly heard knocking at the front door, she managed to stagger out of the room to open it.

He glimpsed something in the corner of his eye. Turning his head he saw something that he had not seen for decades, the familiar face of an old rag doll. He recognised it as the one he had saved all his paper money round for, so that his little sister would get at least one gift at Christmas and for the first time in a long time he cried.

Mike was greeted at the front door by a distressed, sobbing and bloody, Melissa. "What the hell!" he exclaimed. Melissa fell into his arms sobbing. "He....he tried to kill me. The....the serial killer. He.... he tried to kill me." she stuttered as she pointed towards the living room. "You stay here." Mike ordered before rushing towards the room. Mike was confronted with the wounded man as soon as he entered the room. The place was covered in blood and he immediately called the police and ambulance service. He bent down to check the man's pulse when suddenly, the man opened his eyes. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain and opened his mouth to say something.

As Mike bent down closer to hear him, Melissa came into the room. "Please forgive me." he mouthed and held out his hand towards her. A few seconds later he took his last breath. "What did he say?" Melissa asked Mike. "Please forgive me. That's what the bastard said."

Just then the police and ambulance crew arrived. The paramedics rushed in and quickly announced that the man was dead. "Right" said Mike, pulling Melissa to her feet. "Let them do their work, you're going to hospital for a checkup. You've had a nasty experience." he told her, holding her close and putting his arm around her. "You have a large bruise on your forehead that needs to be looked at." Melissa shook her head. "I'm fine honestly. Can you contact the hospital and see how George is?" she asked. "You were very lucky Melissa. We have been looking for him for weeks now."

"Thanks Mike for turning up when you did. But why were you here?" she asked rather confused but grateful for his arrival. I came to tell you that George has gained consciousness. His brother called me to let me know. You weren't answering your phone so I thought I would pop round on the way home to see how you were." he replied. "The phone never rang." she told him and immediately went out to the hall and saw that the wire had been cut. "Look Mike. He cut the wire." she told him "And he's the one that attacked George." Mike put his hand on her shoulder. "How do you know that?" he asked guiding her back into the living room and onto the sofa.

Mike sat down beside her and held her hands. "He told me. I saw him at the hospital earlier on and he pretended to be a friend of George's from the station. When I got home he was standing in my kitchen. He told me he attacked George. He told me he was the killer that you were all looking for." she told him covering her face with the palms of her hands and sobbing uncontrollably. "Thank God you turned up when you did Mike. He would have killed me." she told him, thankful that her prayers had been answered. "If you don't mind Melissa, I really have to stay here, there's a lot to do. Is that OK? he asked. "Of course. I don't want to be on my own at the moment. I'm fine really. Just a bit shaky." she replied. The truth was she wasn't fine, she was a complete wreck.

She couldn't stop her body from trembling and was in shock after her experience. "A cup of hot tea is what you need. Are you sure I can't call a doctor for you? Maybe he can give you something." he asked but she shook her head. "What I really want is a quick shower and to get to the hospital to see George." she told him. "We need to wait a while for that Melissa. As soon as forensics turn up we will see about going to visit George. How's the baby?" he asked. "Oh Lisa! I need to go check on her." Melissa cried jumping to her feet. "You will do no such thing. I will check on her. You sit down again and rest. When I come back we will have that cup of tea." Mike told her.

She walked towards him and gave him a hug and for his gallantry a kiss on the cheek. "Ok. No need to get soppy now." he said jokingly.

Chapter 27

As Mike entered the station he felt the atmosphere different somehow. Word had got about that they had caught the serial killer. A bit optimistic, he thought, but he wasn't about to burst the joyful bubble. The truth was that they were no further forward in identifying the dead man in Melissa's house. He had nothing on his possession that would identify him. His fingerprints were not on the system so he didn't have a criminal record. Identification would take time. Was he really the serial killer?

As Mike sat at his desk he saw the post mortem results with a note from DCI Aitken telling him to read and return to him A.S.A.P. The injuries the assailant had sustained were consistent with Melissa's explanations of what had happened. A heavy blow to the head, a broken nose and a knife wound to the stomach. It was the knife wound that had proved fatal. There were other injuries found on his body, old injuries. Several scars on his chest, arms and legs and some injuries that the pathologist reported as cigarette burns which may, or may not, have been self- inflicted. And the most important piece of evidence discovered was the tube of red lipstick found in his jacket pocket. Forensics were still trying to match up the lipstick with that found on the victims.

He closed the report and his thoughts turned to Melissa. She was in a state of shock the last time he saw her and had refused to go to hospital to be checked over. He wondered if George knew about the attack on her. Probably not, he was too ill to be told. Although he had gained consciousness again he was sleeping most of the time and still had a long way to go in his recovery. His thoughts were interrupted when DCI Aitken entered the room. "Has forensics finished at Mrs Wilson's house?" the DCI asked. "Not yet Gov." he replied. "Put this up on the board with the rest. Hopefully we will have a name to go with it soon." he said, handing him a photograph of the assailant. "Has Mrs Wilson given a statement yet?" the DCI asked. "Not yet Gov. Sometime today" Mike replied. "Well, the sooner the better. See to it." the DCI instructed before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

Mike and DC Joanne Norton spent the rest of the morning with Melissa at her room in a nearby hotel. She would not be allowed home until forensics were finished so she and her baby were temporarily moved out. George's family were also staying at the same hotel so she had plenty of support.

She was reluctant at first to go over everything that had happened but after a few deep breaths, she gave her statement. DC Norton noted down everything she said in a notebook and had to stop several times for Melissa to check on her sleeping daughter. "Do you know who he is?" Melissa asked Mike. "Not yet but we're working on it. We will keep you informed." he replied wondering when they would get a breakthrough and find out who the swine was. "I don't understand any of this. Who was he and why did he want to hurt us? It doesn't make any sense." she said beginning to sob. "Look Melissa." he said gently rubbing her arm. "Just look after yourself and the baby. We will do the rest. Does George know any of this?" Melissa shook her head. "He's too ill." she replied with tears in her eyes. "I'm going up to the hospital soon but I don't want him to find out just yet. Please promise me you won't tell him." Mike smiled at her and said "Don't worry I will wait until he is better but you do know we have to speak to him." Melissa nodded and with that the two detectives said their goodbyes before making their way back to the station.

DCI Aitkin called an urgent team meeting. "We still haven't identified him yet Gov," Mike told him, "but it's only a matter of time." "Well if this is the serial killer," the DCI said, pointing to the photograph of the dead man on the board, "We need to find out who he is." Just then there was a knock at the door and Sergeant Potter tentatively walked into the room. "Sorry to disturb you." he said. "What is it?" the DCI snapped at him. "Well a bit of news actually. Constable King has just come on duty. He thinks he saw the dead man before." Sergeant Potter said looking around the room. "What? Well don't just stand there send him in." the DCI demanded.

PC King walked nervously into the room. He was quickly surrounded by the detectives and suddenly felt very small and insignificant. He had always planned to land himself a detective job sometime in the future but standing looking at them with their smart suits he felt intimidated somehow. "Well can you identify him?" the DCI asked rather impatiently. "Well Sir, I recognised his face from the photograph. He was at the station a short while back, for an interview." he said. "What? What kind of interview?" demanded the DCI. "I believe it was for an Admin Assistant post that became vacant a few months ago. His application form should still be here at the station." PC King added. "Can you remember his name?" Mike butted in impatiently. "No Sir. Just his face." the young constable answered. "Right Constable, you've been a great help." The DCI said ushering the young constable out of the room.

"DI Watson can you get those bloody application forms for me." the DCI ordered and immediately Mike rushed out of the room. Ten minutes later he returned with the application forms in his hands, ten in total. "Well, we have no photographs with these so I suggest we call them all first and take it from there." the DCI instructed. They each took a telephone number and hurriedly called the numbers, hoping that they would be the one to find the dead man's number first. Everyone who answered was discounted, bar one. DC Peterson had called a number that rang out and excitement rose in the office.

"Well this might be our man." DCI Aitken said gleefully rubbing his hands together. "DI Watson, check this address and if he's our man get forensics over there straight away." the DCI instructed Mike before handing him the application form. "I've got an important meeting to go to or I'd go around there myself. Keep me informed." "Right you are Gov." replied Mike, staring at the address and possibly the killer's name \- Paul McKinlay. "Right DC Henley and DC Norton you are both with me. Let's get going." he instructed and the two detectives nodded in unison.

They had both been called back onto day duty as it was obvious to Mike that there was nothing to gain from sending them to the club every night. "DI Watson!" shouted DC Peterson and Mike turning to face him, immediately knew what he wanted. "Yes. You can come too." he told him seeing the large grin on the young detective's face with the news that he was to be included in their visit to the possible killer's home.

It didn't take them long to get to the address. It wasn't far from the station, which surprised him. If this man was the serial killer then George had been right about one thing, the killer was local.

He parked his car outside Paul McKinlay's building, Mike decided to approach a neighbour first for identification purposes. He didn't want to go storming into an apartment that had nothing to do with the man in the photograph. After talking to the first floor neighbour, Mr Richardson, and showing him the dead man's photograph, he identified the man in the photograph as Paul McKinlay. Mr Richardson told him that he was a strange young man, kept himself to himself and he believed by his accent that he was English.

Instinctively Mike knew he was at the right address and called forensics, who told him in no uncertain terms to wait outside for their arrival. Under no circumstances were they to enter. It didn't take long for forensics to appear. Mike and the detectives stood outside Paul McKinlay's apartment as they brushed past them and kicked down the door. Forensics were in a hurry, anticipating finding something horrible hidden away in a cupboard or under the floorboards, Mike thought.

As they entered Mike felt strange but the place looked ordinary. The furniture was a bit sparse, he noticed. The living room furniture consisted of a three seater settee, a television and a coffee table with a laptop and printer on it. Not much, he thought, but the place looked clean and he was sure he could smell bleach.

"We need that laptop." Mike said and immediately DC Henley grabbed it from the table. "What do you think your bloody doing?" a voice screamed from the hallway. "You're not allowed to touch anything. Now put that back on the table." DC Henley looked at the large man dressed in a white forensic suit screaming at him before glancing over at DI Watson. "Do as he says." Mike instructed and the laptop was placed back onto the table. "Right let's have a quick look around. Now remember don't touch anything." Mike said and the detectives nodded. Mike wandered into the kitchen. The first thing that struck him was how clean and tidy the room was, with not an item out of place. The smell of bleach was overpowering and he made a quick exit.

"DI Watson, I think you should see this." DC Norton shouted from the bedroom. Mike rushed over, wondering if there was something gruesome waiting for him. DC Norton pointed to the wall. Looking up Mike saw newspaper clippings pinned to the wall.

One newspaper clipping was about a boy who died at a school - Liam Johnston. The second was a story about a man killed when he fell off a bus - Peter McNaughton. Moving along the wall he read the third newspaper clipping it was about a woman who died falling downstairs - Anne McKinlay, who left behind two small children. The final clipping was notice of a funeral for a Christine Riley.

This Paul McKinlay kept these on his wall for a reason and he wondered what they would discover about this man. Looking around the bedroom he saw one more newspaper article pinned above the bed. It had a photograph and a story about a young woman that had gone missing in Glasgow three months before. Funny, Mike thought, he didn't remember that.

Then he noticed on closer inspection, that there was something weird about it. The newspaper article about a missing girl was not real. It was made probably on the laptop, the photograph imported and the whole thing laid out as if it was from a real newspaper. The killer must have done this, he thought, but why?

Beside the made up newspaper clipping there was a blown up photograph of the young woman. Then he noticed she was wearing bright red lipstick. He wondered who she was. With long blonde hair and blue eyes, she looked around her late twenties. Somehow, she didn't look happy in the photograph. She must have been important for him to keep her photograph on the wall above his bed. This woman, whoever she was, was important to him somehow. Who was she? Was she alive or dead? Mike knew that there was still a hell of a lot of detective work to do before he could figure it all out.

"Sir over here quick." DC Peterson shouted from the kitchen just as Mike's mobile started ringing. He rushed out of the bedroom towards the kitchen answering his call to find that his wife, Susan, was in labour and needed to get to hospital.

He assured her that he would be straight home and opened his mouth to tell DC Peterson that he needed to go, when he noticed that he was holding open the freezer with a handkerchief and pointing inside. Bending over to take a look, he couldn't believe what he saw. The woman in the photograph.

Epilogue - four months later

Melissa and George left the hospital hand in hand as they made their way towards their car carrying their baby daughter Lisa in her car seat. "She's getting so big and I've missed so much of her growing up these last few months." he said with sadness in his voice. "Well you have all the time in the world now to get to know her. She's just so glad to have her daddy back." Melissa said kissing him on the cheek.

Driving home she glanced over at him and smiled. "It's so good to have you home at last." she said feeling relieved that he hadn't suffered any permanent damage from the attack. "It's still early days so I want you to take it easy." George nodded before saying. "It's so good to be out of that damn hospital."

As they reached home Melissa could see that he was becoming more than a little anxious. "You ok honey?" she asked as she switched off the engine. "Yeh just some bad memories that's all. Don't worry I'm fine." he answered reaching out to open the car door. She touched him tenderly on his arm. "Look we can always move. We don't need to stay here." she suggested and he shook his head. "It's our home and if you can stay here after all that you went through, then so the hell can I." he replied. "You get the door open and I'll unclip Lisa."

Melissa looked at George. He was still on sick leave and would be for the foreseeable future, however his health was improving day by day and it wouldn't be long until he was back to his old self again, she was sure of that. "What is it?" he asked, noticing her staring at him. "Nothing much, just that I love you." she replied, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He walked into the hall carrying his baby daughter and the first thing he noticed was the smell of fresh paint. "Mike's been here." stated Melissa. "Good old Mike," he said "What would we do without him?"

Melissa took Lisa, who by this time was fast asleep, and laid her down in her cot. "He's helped us a lot over the last few months even though he is on paternity leave now." Melissa said, putting her arms around his neck and giving him yet another kiss. "It was another boy, wasn't it?" he asked unsure if he remembered correctly. "Yes they called him Aaron." she told him guiding him to the sofa. "Now sit down and I'll get you a lovely cup of coffee. I bet you haven't had a decent coffee since you've been in hospital. Am I right?" George smiled at her and nodded. "You're right baby, you're always right."

After an hour or so George began to yawn and was quickly ushered, by Melissa, into the bedroom. "Have a sleep babe." she said pulling back the duvet and plumping up the pillows. "Ok but just for a little while. Don't let me sleep too long." he said trying to stifle another yawn.

As George slept the telephone never stopped ringing. His parents called wanting to know how he was and informed her that they would be up at the weekend to see them. Mike called to see if there was anything he could do for them and numerous friends and colleagues called to see how he was doing. So many people loved George and she found herself being slightly envious. She had no family left since her parents had both passed away and very few friends. Most of her friends lived down south and she had only made a few friends since moving to Glasgow. The most important people in her life were her husband and her daughter.

The memories of that night when she stared death in the face still haunted her most nights. She knew she would get over it eventually and now that she had George to take care for, she was happy. George was too tired to wake and she left him sleeping while she fed and bathed her daughter.

That night, as she lay in bed listening to his breathing, she found her thoughts turning to the man who tried to kill her. What made him the way he was? Mike had told her that he had been brought up in foster care. For some reason or another he was moved from one foster home to another. "Probably because he was an evil bastard." Mike had said with anger in his voice.

He didn't have a criminal record, which surprised him but Melissa knew that this was not unusual. Many a serial killer had a clean police records and appeared to be model citizen. "Who was he?" she had asked Mike one night when he was at her home painting her doors. "Just a nobody. A deranged nobody." he had replied. "Why? Did anyone find out why?" she had asked feeling so confused by everything that had happened. "I don't suppose we will ever know. Now try to put this behind you or I'll need to send you to a psychologist for some counselling." he had jokingly replied.

Still she couldn't help thinking about the killer. He must have been angry at the world. Perhaps it was to do with his childhood and the fact that he couldn't, or wouldn't, settle into foster care. He must have been lonely, confused and hurt as a child which manifested into anger and hate for the world as he got older. She knew these feelings as she had felt the same many years ago when she too was put into foster care. However, unlike him, she blossomed with the help of her foster parents whom she loved dearly. She never asked or cared about her parentage. She was always happy.

After her father passed away her mother was never the same again and was often ill. She wanted to give up her studies and look after her but her mother had insisted that she stayed at university and complete her studies, as her father would have wanted her to. Two years later she graduated from university and a year later her mother passed away. That was when she decided to uproot and somehow found her way to Glasgow.

She lay in bed listening to her husband's breathing and immediately felt safe. It was good to have George back home, as somehow it made everything normal again. She thought of the killer. Somehow from the depths of her heart she felt a tinge of sadness for him. Somehow, she felt a weird kind of bond with him, probably because they both had the same start in life. They were both put into foster care. He ended up on the road to death and destruction while she had a more privileged upbringing thanks to her foster parents.

She was grateful that fate had handed her a better deal. Her future was bright with George and baby Lisa and she was happier than she had ever been. She eventually fell asleep and dreamt of her mother and father. They were smiling at her and telling her how happy they were for her.

In the morning she awoke early and decided to slip out of bed without wakening George. Looking into her baby's cot, she saw that she was still fast asleep and tiptoed into the kitchen to make some tea.

Sitting on the sofa sipping her tea, she spied the old rag doll sitting on the table in the corner of the room. Many a time George had suggested that she should bin it but she couldn't bear to throw it away and held onto it as if it was some precious artifact. The only thing left from her childhood. Someone gave it to her a long time ago, she remembered. But who?

The End

