‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Helen exploded. ‘How dare you tell me what to do?’
Jake was taken aback by the force of the explosion.
‘It’s just a suggestion and if it’s not for you that’s fine. But I don’t feel comfortable going in this dir-’
‘You don’t feel comfortable! You’re a bloody whore, for God’s sake. You’re comfortable with whatever I pay you to do.’
She was marching towards him and for a moment, Jake thought she was going to attack him, such was the level of her fury. He always had a Taser tucked away close by but he’d never had to use it. How ironic would it be if he had to use it now on her? But thankfully, just as Jake was edging towards it, she turned on her heel and marched out of the flat, slamming the door fiercely behind her.
Jake fought the urge to go after her. They weren’t friends, she was just a client. He’d crossed that line before and lived to regret it. Best cut her off now and not look back. He had liked her but hadn’t asked to be abused. He was too long in the tooth to put up with that. With a sigh he dropped the blinds and shut her out of his life for good.
Helen punched her speed up to 100 mph and roared into the fast lane. It was late now and the ring road was virtually empty. She revelled in the freedom, gunning the throttle harder and harder. The speed was soothing – for a moment the awful, heart-breaking events of the last few days slipped from her mind.
Only a couple of miles to go. The thought of what lay ahead focused her. She had a job to do. And she had to do it well – lives hung in the balance. Three of the victims, Ben, Marie and Annie, had been known personally to her. Surely that was too much of a coincidence. Was the fact that she knew them important? Or was there something in their past traumas that had made them worthy of the killer’s attention?
Amy was the stumbling block. Helen had never met her and as far as she was aware Amy had no criminal record. Same went for Sam. So if the connection to Helen was important, why had they been chosen? It was late and Amy’s mother wouldn’t thank her for calling round with more questions, but there was no other way.
Her father opened the door, primed to deliver a volley of abuse. Emilia Garanita and her colleagues had been a constant presence in their lives since Amy had returned home and the Andersons were reaching breaking point. On seeing it was Helen, he swallowed the abuse and let her inside.
She was ushered into the living room and made to wait whilst Diane Anderson went to fetch her daughter from her bedroom. Helen scanned the walls, looking for inspiration. A handful of happy family photos – mum, dad and precious daughter – stared back at her, mocking her ignorance.