to come. She struggled under him, trying to push him away, but her movements were sluggish. She looked dazed. Perhaps she’d hit her head; it didn’t really matter.
He had a syringe in his bag. But he didn’t need it. He was a predator. She was prey. Slamming her head to the ground, he ripped the scarf off her neck. Bent down, her scent enveloping him, intoxicating.
He bit hard.
She screamed so loud that his ears rang, but he was beyond caring about screams, about getting caught. Her taste filled his mouth, salty and wonderful. He grunted as he slurped the bleeding wound, the world fading away around him. Only this mattered.
And then he was shoved away. He blinked in confusion, raised his eyes. Daniel stood above him, looking furious.
“Jesus!” Daniel spat. “What’s the matter with you?”
The words made no sense. Wasn’t this what they were there to do? He licked his lips, the tangy taste of the woman divine. He wanted more.
“No!” Daniel pushed him away. He lunged, punched Daniel in the face. Daniel stumbled back, blinking in shock. For a few seconds neither of them moved.
Then the woman groaned.
“We’ll take her to the trees,” Daniel said, his voice clear and forceful. There was no arguing with that voice.
The man in control nodded, feeling drunk.
They dragged the woman to the trees, and he glimpsed the dark shape of the channel beyond them, the moonlight gleaming on the brackish water.
“Here’s good,” Daniel said, and the man in control heard an echo of his own intoxication in his friend’s voice.
“Remember your job,” Daniel said.
For a second he didn’t. What was his job? But then he recalled the plan, the details. Why they were doing it all. He checked his bag and nodded at Daniel.
Daniel pushed the woman to her knees, wrapped a tie around her throat. The man in control had seen his friend do this before at Catherine’s home. Back there, it had been shocking; he’d nearly lost his nerve. But now he was ready. Didn’t even flinch when Daniel cut the woman’s pants.
Something was wrong. His friend muttered to himself, sounding furious. The woman gagged, trying to breathe, and Daniel prodded at her, hit her, sounding more and more enraged.
It took the man in control a second to understand what the problem was. Daniel was struggling to get an erection. The man in control looked away, embarrassed, but then recalled his own job. He had an important part to play. He unslung his bag and opened it, began performing his task. The woman’s eyes bulged, no sound coming from her now, her fingers clawing at the tie around her throat. Daniel yanked it hard, cursing, voice hoarse.
And then she was lying in the mud.
“Damn it!” Daniel snarled. “Fucking bitch!” He kicked her.
“Daniel,” the man in control said.
“It’s your fault!” Daniel shouted at him. “With your fucked-up biting, and snarling, and hitting me, like a damn animal!”
Daniel was right. He lowered his eyes.
“Shit,” Daniel said. “Never mind. We still have work to do. Stay with her. I’ll get the van.”
The man in control nodded, not daring to argue.
Daniel left, still muttering curses.
The man in control knelt by the battered woman and took out the syringe. He had work to do—he knew that—but he wanted to try to get some blood first. If it was only him, he could just drink his fill now, but he wasn’t the only one who needed the blood.
CHAPTER 18
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Bill Fishburne woke up in the middle of the night, his mouth dry. He shifted in the bed and tried to sink back into sleep, knowing that if he got up to get a drink, it’d take him ages to fall asleep.
But the thirst nagged at him, and eventually he relented and sat up gently, not to wake up Hen.
It was then that he realized she wasn’t in bed.
She’d called him in the evening, telling him she’d have to work until after midnight. Wasn’t it midnight yet? It felt like much later. He sighed, fumbled for his phone, and lit its screen.
It was seven minutes past four.
The jolt of worry woke him instantly. His brain scrambled for an explanation and immediately found one—Hen must have returned home and then kept working on the computer. She did that every once in a while. When there was an important case. To reassure himself, he got up, slid his feet into his slippers, and padded to the bedroom window. They had a view out to the street, and their