Then without warning a key turned in the lock and the door swung open.
‘Well done, Caroline.’
She could hear her, but she couldn’t see her. For a moment, Caroline was frozen to the spot. Her tormentor had reappeared and fear gripped her completely.
But nothing happened. Was the woman still there? It didn’t look like it and she couldn’t hear her. Suddenly Caroline was on her feet and heading to the door. If the woman was still there, she’d wring her bloody neck. Bring it on! But then suddenly in the midst of her charge to freedom, Caroline stopped. And turned.
Martina. There she was, lifeless and still. Two of them had arrived, now only one was leaving. Caroline stood on the threshold. Whilst she remained inside she was a victim. Once she stepped outside, she was a murderer.
But what choice did she have? To live she must embrace her crime. So she stumbled through the doorway.
She was at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Light poured down from above – through some sort of trapdoor – temporarily blinding her. Once more, she hesitated. Was her abductor waiting above? Slowly, steadily, she climbed the creaking stairs. She emerged into a sea of brightness.
She was alone. Alone in the body of a decaying house. A big one. Unloved and unwanted, just as Caroline had always been. And yet right at this moment, she loved this house. Its light, its emptiness, her liberty. She could walk in any direction, without fear, without compulsion. She was once more master of her fate.
She started to snigger. Before long she was howling with laughter – wild, raucous, crazy laughter. She had survived!
Still laughing, she marched over to the front door. Wrenching it open, she struggled up the short garden path and through the gate, back on to the bustling city streets.
Charlie made it to Bevois Valley in fifteen minutes flat. They could have done it in ten with the blues and twos on, but that was out of the question. They didn’t want to spook Mickery. DC Grounds had been left to babysit a deeply pissed-off Martha Reeves – they couldn’t discount the possibility that she would contact Mickery to warn her.
A description had gone out to uniform on the beat and Charlie immediately set about coordinating the efforts. Bevois Valley is a shabby collection of low-rent supermarkets, industrial estates and depots. It’s a small place and many of the local cops are on nodding terms with the hookers and junkies who also make it their home, taking advantage of the numerous squats and abandoned houses that disfigure the streets. News can travel surprisingly fast in this enclosed community and the word was out. A good tipoff now could break the case. Could they catch Mickery in the act? Charlie felt her pulse quicken – the thrill of the chase never failed to get her heart racing. But there was more this time. This was personal – she wouldn’t let Mickery escape her twice.