October 25th, 1969
The infant’s hungry cries pierced the night air. Infuriated, his father threw the duvet aside and leapt out of bed. He hurried to the chest of drawers that doubled as the baby’s cot. Angrily, he slammed the drawer closed. Inside, the wails soon turned to gasps as the baby struggled for air…
The killer cruised the empty, moonlit streets lined with naked trees, Georgian terraces, and high-rise flats that towered into the black sky. He pulled his tweed cap low over his eyes and scanned the streets. There was no sign of her. He’d passed a few women standing on the street corners, but they weren’t the one he wanted. He’d know her as soon as he laid eyes on her.
The killer was a lean man, average height. He wore a black wool coat and brown corduroy trousers. A hammer lay on the back seat.
A young blonde woman got out of her car and hurried up the steps to her house. She glanced uncertainly over her shoulder before opening the front door and switching on the hall lights. She lingered on the threshold for a minute, sensing someone out there, watching and waiting. Shivering, she locked the door carefully behind her.
The killer stared at the house. Lights came on upstairs. The woman came to the bedroom window and looked down the street, peering into the blackness. Then she drew the curtains tight and switched off the light.
The killer continued driving. Then he saw her, staggering slightly. She stuck out a hand to flag him down. The street was deserted. His hands started to tremble on the steering wheel. The uncontrollable force empowered and transformed him. He rolled down his window. “Need a lift, love?”
She’d do nicely…
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