The Sister(159)

She thought about Miller. What are you really doing in Scotland? She knew he wanted her, but whatever it was he was here for, was more important. Her curiosity was aroused. I have an appointment with destiny.

What she’d said to him about being disappointed if he turned out to be a bull-shitter was true. She’d spent half her life avoiding womanisers. She could smell them a mile off, but Miller. He was a mystery.

She poured a second glass of wine and returned to studying Midnight’s movements.

When she’d first started, it was obvious the patterns centred around cities because of the road systems, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised, when you have over seven hundred points to join up, there’s a good chance the appearance of a pattern would form. What Miller had said somewhere along the line on the train, came back to her.

The only reason this character has avoided city centres is because they are mostly business premises protected by alarms and CCTV cameras. There are cameras that cover the streets. London has one of the highest levels of street surveillance in the world, and he likes to move around, blending in. He knows he’ll be caught somewhere on a camera. He won’t risk breaking into those houses, or flats within city centres like London, because they’re usually owned by the very wealthy, who protect themselves and their property with sophisticated security systems, even guards.

There had been a number of Midnight attacks in the suburbs surrounding London. She still had a contact in the Met, and he’d told her there was evidence to suggest he sometimes targeted individuals connected to victims of previous burglaries. Her reporter’s nose caught a whiff of something. She was unsure what it was. He put strangers together just for the fun of it.

Carla started folding the map to put it away, thinking how impossible it was to predict where he’d strike next. She wondered what his motives were, recalling what Miller said on the train. You have so many dots you could join them all together and make the face of Mickey Mouse.

She glanced at her phone. A text from her man in the Met. How strange. She’d literally just thought about him, remembering a call she owed him from months back.

Off the record, they quite often helped each other, and now he’d provided her with the location of the latest confirmed activities of the Midnight man. He’s in Scotland!

Quickly unfolding the map again, she located the town. She took her coloured pencil and marked it. A shiver of excitement ran through her. It was less than ten miles from the vigilante attack and it had occurred earlier on the same day. There were so many dots on the map, though not many in Scotland. Surely, that’s too close for coincidence?

Something he’d discovered during the burglary might have led him to the paedophiles. He could have set an accomplice onto them, or he might have done it himself. It could be him.

Coincidence. Miller had said it was partly the reason he was in Scotland. Now she’d had a run of them herself. She googled the word and read several articles on the subject, but none summed it up better than the one line quote she’d read first of all. Coincidence, if traced far enough back, becomes inevitable.

She couldn’t remember a man turning her down before. The urge to ring Miller became overwhelming. Bemused, even angry, she conceded he was different. He’d aroused her curiosity on many levels.

She imagined what would happen if she picked up the phone and called him. I’m laying here all warm and soft, fresh from the bath. I’ve rubbed moisturising lotion all over my body. I’ve shaved myself for you, imagine. I’m guessing you’ll love how smooth it is. I’m wearing just a thong. I was wondering if you'd help me with something. Would Miller agonise at the other end of the line? She allowed the fantasy to evaporate. He was just too much for her to fathom right now and she didn’t want to face rejection. Carla, I'd love to, but right now, I need to sleep.

She bit into her lower lip, and her imagination sparked another fantasy. ‘Oh, boy, Miller,’ she breathed to herself. ‘I haven’t even got started with you yet.’





Miller turned his phone off. If anyone needs me, it can wait till morning.

Waves of exhaustion swept over him, each stronger than the last. He slipped deep into slumber and then awoke unsure of how long he’d slept. He inspected his watch. The luminous dial showed it was almost two in the morning. Just when he most needed sleep, he found himself embarking on one of his restless phases, waking in the night, limbs surging with electrical activity that drove him from bed to pace around the room. He believed it to be a side effect of extended celibacy, an effect that was sometimes beneficial in gaining insights, or problem solving. Tonight it was counter-productive. You need a woman.

Usually it took two months before the symptoms became intolerable. This particular sojourn had crept up on him; he should have known from some of the wilder dreams. He lay on the bed and thought about Carla. You know the quickest way for you to get to sleep, Miller.

He rolled off the bed and started deep knee squatting until his thigh muscles burned and then got back in. He plugged in his headphones and listened to an achingly beautiful song that personified the loneliness he felt from his self-imposed abstinence from meaningful relationships, a kind of penance.

When you have no one, none can hurt you.

A burgeoning realisation crept up on him. Kirk was right; he’d cheated himself out of happiness for long enough. Too tired to think anymore.