The Sister(78)

‘Hello?’ she breathed.

‘Are you ready to receive your president? I’m right outside your front door.’

She opened it. ‘You could have just rung the bell like anybody else would have.’

He breezed in cheerfully, surveying the passageway with his mobile phone; he pretended to be sweeping for hidden bugging devices. He grinned at her. ‘But I’m not just anybody else, am I?’ He had already removed his jacket. His face glowed red with the flush of Viagra.

‘No, Jack, there’s no one else quite like you.’ She dimmed the lights. ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

‘And there I was, thinking you'd forgotten.’ He was now lying on the bed naked, apart from a pair of black socks.

She slinked toward him, beginning his song.





Chapter 61



The caller finalised his plans. He had spent the past week observing the house at random times. The girl was living on her own, which was perfect because although she was only a pawn in his game, she was also exactly his type and lived in exactly the right kind of place, somewhere easy to get into. It had no burglar alarm; it also backed directly onto a park, which proved to be good for covert night time observation, as well as for an alternate escape route – if needed.

The night before, something happened that almost changed his plans. As he approached the rear of her house from the darkness of the park, he saw someone else slipping over her back fence. The Peeping Tom from outside the blonde’s place!

He observed from behind the fence, standing on tiptoes. The other man spied in on her through the windows, following her as she moved from room to room. After two hours, the lights downstairs turned off one by one until finally the house was in darkness. A moment later, a light from within set the upstairs windows dimly aglow.

When the Peeper finally stole away, he’d worked out a place for him in his plans.

He followed him home.

When he was sure he’d retired for the night, he broke in. He sifted through everything. These people with mobile phones that never password protect them. He smirked when he spotted the clumsy efforts to disguise PIN numbers, passwords and usernames.

What’s this, a jar of chloroform? What is this guy up to? He contemplated his next move, taking his time.

Looking around, he found an empty bottle of vodka in the glass recycling. Quickly and carefully, he poured half the chloroform into it, then topped up the remainder in the jar with water. He moved out of the room, amazed at how fast such a small amount of vapour had affected him; he shook his head, and once he was clear of the fumes, took a deep breath.

A rare smile touched his lips; he was pleased with how well this unexpected development fitted seamlessly into his plans. When he first saw her come jogging out of the back gate into the park, she was wearing tight Lycra leggings that revealed the shape of her legs, the clearly defined muscles rippled with latent power, and she was only cruising. Black pony-tailed hair swished from side to side, matching the tempo of her pace, checking her watch for the time, she set her dark eyes into a focal point in the distance. Sucking in a deep breath, she upped her pace and her full lips pursed into an O shape with each exhalation.

She was one of the stalker’s Facebook friends. Her face instantly recognisable from his photographs, but the poise, the power and grace of her movement, needed witnessing in the flesh for full appreciation.

She was a perfect fit, and now he had a scapegoat.

He felt no guilt; the guy was a pervert anyway. There had to be dozens of photographs of women all over his place. It would be only a question of time before this Peeper raped someone. He was performing a public service. Prevention was better than cure.

Looking back from her gate, it was a distance of three houses to the alleyway. He scooted round to the front quickly, then along the pavement, up to her front door. He rang the doorbell just to be sure no one else was there, using the sleeve of his jumper stretched over his thumb, so as not to leave any prints. There was no answer. He walked casually to the side gate, trying the thumb latch to open it, realising it was secured from the other side; he reached over and undid the bolt. Once through, he observed the property through the rear windows. The inside looked as if she’d just arrived and hadn’t finished unpacking, there were half a dozen tea chests filled up to the top with items wrapped in wads of paper. From what he saw, there was no sign of another occupant.

She was definitely alone.

Perfect.





Later that night, he unpacked a box of jam-jars he’d bought from a boot-sale. Cutting a hole in one of the screw-down tin lids, he passed a flexible breather pipe through it and taping it all round with duct tape for an airtight seal, he fitted a mask to the other end and taped that to the pipe as well. He’d reuse the lid, because it would fit any of the jars in the box.





Chapter 62



Reaching over the top of the gate, feeling for the catch, the caller quietly slid the bolt back and slipped undetected into her back garden.

He squatted in the pool of shadow under a tree, and gripping the corner of his jacket raised it like a dark wing to light a cigarette under. His face flared yellow for a second. He blinked and glanced up at the moon. It looked red and otherworldly; he rubbed his eyes. Its appearance didn’t change.

He thought it might be an omen, a warning of danger ahead.

It took another half-hour before the lights began switching off, room by room. The last ones were upstairs, the bedroom and bathroom, he guessed. When all the lights were out, he dressed for the job. Putting on his paper boiler suit and over shoes, he taped the joints to the trousers, to stop them coming off and put on his latex gloves. He pulled up the hood, tightening the draw cord, and then fixed his mask in place. Advancing in the shadow cast by the high fence, he crossed the last few feet and paused by the house to look around. He listened up close to the windowpane and satisfied no one was moving around inside, scored the glass with a cutter, using masking tape to prevent any fragments falling noisily onto the ground. He popped the leaded pane with his elbow. A few moments later, he was inside. A large railway style clock on the kitchen wall told him it was just before midnight.