The Surrogate

what he wants and single-minded about how he’s going to achieve it.’

‘Which is it?’

She gave a small smile. ‘I don’t know, Phil. I’m not Derek Acorah.’

He laughed. ‘You’re better-looking, for a start.’

She closed her eyes, shook her head. ‘Stop it,’ she said. She looked irritated by his interruption, but a smile played round her lips. ‘Now concentrate. He must have had some contact with her. She wasn’t chosen at random. She was targeted, picked out for a purpose.’ She rubbed her hand across her mouth. It was something she did unconsciously when she was thinking. Phil smiled inwardly at the memory. It was an endearing trait, he thought. ‘But…’ She took her hand away. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean she was intimate with him.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, most killings like this are sexual in nature. And I don’t get a sexual feeling from this.’

Phil couldn’t stop himself smiling. ‘That’s reassuring.’

Marina blushed. ‘You know what I mean,’ she said, trying to cover her reddening face. Eventually she smiled too.

‘Right. So it’s not Brotherton, then?’

‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head. ‘He doesn’t feel right. But… you never know. I may be wrong. It has been known.’

‘Not in my experience.’

‘Charmer.’

She looked at him once more and there was that connection again. She smiled, and as she did so, her features relaxed, tension leached from her body and her eyes became lit not just by warmth but by an inner light. It was a light Phil hadn’t seen for a long time. He moved towards her, smiling also.

‘Marina, I’ve…’

Suddenly the light was extinguished.The tension returned, like an invisible barrier had once again been erected.

‘Please, Phil,’ she said, her voice strong but not harsh. ‘Please. Don’t.’

‘But-’

‘Just don’t. Please.’

Phil felt exasperation build within him. He had to say something, whether she wanted to hear it or not. Whether she had given him permission to speak or not. ‘Listen, Marina. It’s been months now.You just-’

‘Phil, don’t. I can’t talk about it now. Please.’

‘But-’

‘No. We can’t – I can’t have this discussion now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because…’ She pulled her coat around herself once more. Another barrier, thought Phil. Another shield. ‘I just can’t. Not at the moment.’

‘When, then?’

‘We will talk,’ she said. ‘But not yet.You’ll have to wait.’

‘For what?’

‘Until I’m ready.’

He just looked at her. She was irritating, she was a control freak, she was mouthy, she was arrogant. He sighed. She was beautiful, she was warm, she was witty, she was brilliant. He knew how he felt about her. It had never changed. He said nothing. Just nodded. He couldn’t blame her.

To take his mind off Marina, he looked once more round the flat. ‘Murder scenes always make me feel lonely,’ he said.

She looked at him, frowning, bemused.

The words surprised him. He didn’t know he had been thinking them and certainly wasn’t aware he was going to articulate them. Unsure as to why he was talking, he continued. ‘Yeah.’ He nodded, looking round. ‘Lonely. Depressing. I mean, beyond the obvious, you know.’

Marina seemed grateful for the change in subject and jumped on his words. ‘In what way?’

‘Well…’ He felt suddenly shy talking about it. But if there was anyone he could share an intimacy with, even a verbal one, it was Marina. Wherever they were at with each other. ‘It’s like… office buildings at night when the workers have left for the day. Or… theatres when the play’s finished and everyone’s gone home.’

‘When do you go to the theatre?’

He blushed. ‘You don’t know everything about me, you know.’

‘Clearly.’

‘But it is,’ he said, warming to his theme now. ‘You know in the theatre when they turn the stage lights off after a show and put the working ones on. To reset the stage and stuff. It’s really bleak. Depressing. Like the thing that gave the place life, the play, the actors, the audience, whatever, has gone. And you’re still there. And you shouldn’t be, you should have gone with them. But you are there, on your own, and you’ve got to keep going.’

She looked at him, frowning. Gave a small nod of her head. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said.

He nodded also, wondering if she did know what he meant. Wondering also whether he had still been talking about crime scenes.

‘I think I’ve seen everything for tonight,’ she said. ‘D’you mind giving me a lift home, or should I call a cab?’

‘I’ll take you home.’

He turned the lights off and they left the flat.

Dark and empty. A stage set with no actors.

25

H e was hunting again.

He didn’t really need to. Not yet. But it was good to plan ahead. In fact, it was essential. And he had to keep working at it. Hone his skills. Improve all the time. Never too old to learn something new. Plus he was good at it. And he enjoyed doing things he was good at.

The animal had no idea he was watching her. And he liked that feeling. Just planning something that his prey had no idea about, sitting there watching her, that made him feel good. He drew power from that. Enormous power. He could feel his erection stirring at the thought. A feral lust.

This one was tricky. But that didn’t bother him too much.They all presented problems; all he had to do was work out the best way round them. They were obstacles in the path to his goal. And obstacles could be overcome.

This one was about vantage point. The housing estate was open. If he sat watching from the side of the street he would be seen. He knew the type of people they were round here. Anything – anyone – that didn’t look like it fitted in, and they called the police. So he had to be careful. Cunning.

He had parked before the entrance to the estate and walked in. From there it had been easy to go to the house opposite and find a shadow to crouch in. Simple. They all had huge plastic wheeled bins and large cars parked out front. Some of them even had skips and rubbish from home improvements. Plenty of places. Anyone looking at the street would see a normal housing estate. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to be scared about. No one would ever notice him.

He watched the house. She was moving from room to room like she couldn’t settle. Like if she left a room for too long she would forget what was in it. And she had been alone all night. Her husband was coming back later and later. Like he didn’t want to be with her. Didn’t matter. Soon he wouldn’t be with her at all.

She would be his. Or the part of her he wanted would be his.

Lights at the end of the street. Sweeping round. A car coming into the turning.

He stayed completely still. Head down, so the beams couldn’t even catch his eyes, waiting until it