DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney
Читать онлайн книгу.
the type favoured by architects and surveyors. I work it into the gap between the upper and lower sash window and begin to work the latch.
It takes a few minutes to do it quietly. Millimetre by millimetre I rotate the catch. My right arm is burning with the effort of holding on to the drainpipe and my knee is growing sore. It’ll be bruised for sure. That’s unfortunate.
Once the catch is open, I put my left hand flat against the bottom pane and push the window in gently. I can feel it is a little loose in its fitting. It’ll make a noise if I’m not extremely careful and patient.
I pinch the protruding wooden frame and carefully apply upward pressure. At first nothing happens. The window is stiff. I ease on more force. It slides upwards too much and makes a noise. Damn it to hell. I freeze flat against the wall, clinging to the drainpipe like a lizard. I listen hard. I wait like that for at least a minute. It seems an hour. I’m glad I’ve been exercising as much as I have.
Nothing stirs. I slip my left hand under the window’s base. I’ll be able to apply more even upward pressure now. I’m past the worst, though I still take my time.
When the window’s open fully I throw my left leg through, then my left arm. I have to contort to get my head and upper body through. My right leg and arm trail after me through the window like smoke seeping through a gap under a door.
As soon as I enter the flat I can smell her. Every room will smell like her, I know it. The bedroom will have the strongest odour of all.
It’s dark in the bathroom, but my eyes are already used to it. I can see I’m standing in her bath. The chrome taps are on my right, shining in the dark. I have little interest in the bathroom. Too many other smells that mask her scent. I can see that the door is closed. Unfortunate. More risk of noise. It’s only midnight. She may not be asleep yet. Noise is my enemy now. Sometimes it is my ally.
I move stealthily across the small bathroom. I exaggerate my movements. I look like a ballet dancer performing an animalistic dance, my muscles tensing together. I wish I could be naked to feel her presence against my skin, but I can’t take that risk. I remain sealed in my forensic cocoon. I turn the handle on the bathroom door. It’s in good order and makes no noise. I inch the door open, patiently, controlled. As the door opens to the rest of the flat the smell of her rushes through the gap. I inhale deeply, almost too deeply. I feel a little dizzy. My blood flows so quickly I can feel my temples thumping. A drop of sweat is cool in the cleft of my upper lip. I wipe it away. I won’t leave any of me here. Not even a drop of sweat.
My erection is growing fast, but I won’t rush. There are things to prepare. I move along the corridor, away from her bedroom. The entire flat is in darkness. No flickering of a TV screen. No noise at all.
I enter the living room. It’s too dark to make out details, but it looks fairly cluttered. Too much furniture. Too many cheap prints on the walls. Too many ornaments. I stand in the middle of the room away from the windows, relishing being here alone. What was hers is now mine. This will be the best yet. I’ve learnt so much. I’ll take my time and when I’m finished her very being will be mine.
After almost half an hour I move to the kitchen and silently search through the cupboards and drawers until I find what I need. A knife. It’s not very new or sharp, but it’s a nice intimidating shape. Slightly curved blade and a metal handle. It’ll do.
I go back to the corridor and begin to walk towards her bedroom. The corridor is much darker than the room ahead. The street lights don’t penetrate this far into the flat. The warm glowing yellow light of the bedroom draws me like a moth. I move so very slowly. This is perfection. Exactly how I’ve seen it. Each step is choreographed. How I wish I could be naked. My penis is so hard I fear I may reach orgasm before even getting to the bedroom, but I will not rush this.
The door to her bedroom is ajar. I begin to push it slowly open with my left arm. It swings gently aside. I can see her. Lying in her bed. She’s wearing a pyjama top. The only bed linen is a white sheet. It’s still too warm for more. The sheet only covers her from the waist down. I suspect she’s wearing underwear to make her feel less vulnerable.
I cross the bedroom. She hasn’t closed the blinds properly. The street lights cast a long shadow of me as I walk towards her.
I reach her and stand by the bed. She hasn’t sensed me yet. I watch her breathing. Her skin looks metallic in the dark. Like the black-grey metal of a gun. Her chest rises and falls gently, but I can tell she is not yet in a deep sleep. I am surprised she hasn’t woken. I stand and wait.
She turns on to her back and stops. Her eyes begin to open. She sees me and blinks a couple of times. She seems to recognize me. Her mouth is open in surprise, but she doesn’t scream or speak. The surprise is overwhelming her.
She becomes fully awake. I see the fear spread across her face. I smash my right fist into it. She begins to turn before impact and the blow hits her full in her left cheek. I think I feel the bone break. She makes a funny little noise.
Before she regains her senses I grab her around the throat with my left hand and lift her upwards and backwards with one arm. I crash the back of her head into the wall and let her fall unconscious back on to the bed. I watch her for a few seconds. She’s still alive. Good.
I move back across the bedroom to a set of drawers. I take a handful of her tights back to the bed. There’s some blood coming from the back of her head, but not too much.
I take the gaffer tape from the rucksack and tear off a six-inch strip. I fasten it across her mouth. I turn her on to her stomach, turning her head to the side so she can breathe.
I take a pair of tights and tie them tightly around her neck, although not too tightly. I attach these to another pair that I draw straight down her back. I bend both legs so they are folded back on themselves. I connect them to the tights running down the centre of her back.
Lastly I use another set to tie her hands at the wrists, also behind her back. These I don’t connect to the other bindings.
I take the knife I found in the kitchen and use it to slice her pyjama top open along her back then rip it off her. She is wearing knickers as I suspected. I cut them on both sides and pull them away. I step back and admire my work. She lies naked and trussed.
I wait patiently. She groans. She’s regaining consciousness. This time her eyes don’t flicker open gradually. They spring shockingly wide in an instant. As if awakening from a nightmare. But she’s not. She’s awakening into a nightmare.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious for. Her mind woke a split second before the rest of her body. When the body caught up her eyes fired open. Jesus, God please help me.
She desperately needed to fill her lungs with air, but couldn’t. Something was across her mouth. She tried again to open her jaws. It was no use. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it hurt. She breathed through her nose instead, but it was impossible to get enough air into her lungs. Tears and mucus had narrowed her nasal passage. If she panicked now she would suffocate to death.
Had she been raped? Why had he left her like this? For the first time since regaining consciousness she felt the pain in her cheek. It was an excruciating dull, throbbing pain. Her left eye was already swollen shut. It was so painful it masked the pain at the back of her head completely.
She tried to get up off the bed. Simultaneously something tightened around her throat and ankles. She tried to move her hands. Something tightened around her wrists. She felt around with her fingers as much as possible. She realized they were touching her own feet. She’d been tied like a dead animal. She became aware of her own nakedness. The panic that could so easily kill her began to rise to new levels as the horror of what could have happened while she was unconscious dawned.
She heard a lamp being switched on. The room was flooded with a soft red light. She didn’t recognize it. She didn’t have red lighting in the room. A gloved hand slipped under her jaw and twisted her head around towards him. She gripped her eyes as tightly closed as she could. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She didn’t want to see him.
He