Blood mingled with the piss on the ground, and Cole hurried to the sink. He ran the tap, stuffed two pills into his mouth and washed them down with hands cupped with water. It took five attempts to swallow all eight pills. The door opened, and the barman peered in. “Everything all right in here?”
Cole looked behind him. The guy’s feet stuck out from the cubicle. The barman followed his gaze.
“What happened to him?” asked the barman.
“I didn’t do nothing. He’s pissed. Must have slipped. He’s your problem, mate. Not mine.”
While the barman went towards the cubicle, Cole picked up his bag and hurried from the toilet. He heard the barman shouting behind him, but Cole didn’t stop. He ran out through the pub past the drunken glances of the last two customers and onto the street. After a quick glance in either direction, Cole sped around the nearest corner and cut between two apartment blocks. When he figured he was safe, he slowed down.
As he skulked in the shadows, he heard sirens approaching. Maybe the piss head in the pub hurt himself. Serve him right. He glanced at his burner, but there was still no sign of Alice going to bed.
Half an hour later, Cole began to sweat. His pulse rose and his fears fell. He smiled. Game on. Now all I need is Alice. He stared at his phone and saw the battery was getting low. Cursing, he willed Alice to bed. Minutes later, he received an alert and he switched to the live stream on his phone. He watched Alice do her thing. She stripped down to her panties and went into the bathroom. A short while later, she returned to the bedroom and switched off the light. He cursed the darkness and the poor picture quality, but he thought he could make out a shadow as she got into bed.
Now satisfied, Cole grinned in anticipation. He reached into his pocket and dry swallowed two more pills with some difficulty, figuring it would be worth the hassle. After a quick scan of the area to make sure no-one was around, he made his way towards Alice’s house.
Ten minutes later, he stopped and checked his phone. Once more, he viewed the stream from the bedroom camera he had installed. There had been no further movement in the room, and nothing suggested that Alice wasn't sleeping.
He waited while two people passed by, then he opened his bag and took out the gloves and balaclava. When he was alone, he placed the balaclava on his head, ready to roll down. Then he pulled on the gloves and walked to Alice's front door.
Cole took a deep breath and eased the key into the latch. After a careful jiggle, he opened the door and closed it behind him without making any noise. The alarm beeped, and he hurried to it. In seconds he had the code in, and he placed his hand over the small speaker to deaden the sound of the disarm message.
Then he held his breath and watched his phone for signs of movement in the bedroom upstairs. He remembered the high volume on the bedside radio and figured she was a heavy sleeper, so she was unlikely to have heard anything. Still, he squinted at the screen. He could see no sign of movement, but he watched for a few minutes to make sure. Once he decided she still slept, he rolled down the balaclava, took the knife from the bag and ascended the stairs.
66
Alice blinked awake. The bedside lamp was on. She gasped. A figure loomed over her, dressed in jeans and a tight black jacket. Masked and wielding a long, serrated knife in a gloved hand.
“Hello, Alice,” he said in a low, raspy voice. He switched on the radio, still at high volume. Then he bent down and held the knife to her throat. The cold metal pressed against her skin. Her eyes opened wide. Blood pounded in her ears. A cold tingle rushed through her and every hair on her body rose. Her heart hammered in her chest and her rib cage seemed to tighten. Despite frantic efforts, she couldn’t seem to breathe. Frozen to stillness, she willed herself to move, but her body wouldn't respond.
While he kept the knife pressed against her neck, she felt him grab her wrist and wrap something around it. Then he pulled her arm back tight against the metal bed frame.
“You know what, Alice,” he whispered. “I’ve been watching you. Dreaming of you.” He took her other wrist and strapped it through a bar in the bed frame. In the shock and confusion, she watched him in a detached manner. Not again. Deep down, she knew she had to act. Anything to stop this. She tried to take a deep breath so she could scream, but no sound would come.
He pressed the knife tighter against her neck and put a finger to his lips. He pulled the knife away and cut off a strip of tape. She tried to scream, but the only sound was a roaring inside her head that drowned out everything, even the radio. He dropped the knife and grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed and pressed the tape over her mouth.
Alice looked into the eyes beneath the balaclava, but they were dark and devoid of sparkle. Fear threatened to overwhelm her. Fear made her think about lying still and letting him have his way. Maybe she’d survive. Like before, she could blank it out later. But the recent spark of determination still burned within her, and she tugged against the restraints on her wrists.
He laughed and pulled the sheet off the bed. He threw it to the floor, and she kicked her legs like a desperate animal.
