That was when it had dawned on him that the woman was a police officer, her protection. He had almost laughed out loud. The force clearly couldn’t give two shits about her if that was the best they could offer. He would probably be doing them a favour once he got his hands on her because there was one thing for sure: they weren’t getting the bitch back.
Being so close without prison bars between them was tantalising. Every limb ached to go to her right now, to take her apart bit by bit.
Every waking moment in that prison had been consumed with thoughts of what he would do to her, and there had never been any doubt in his mind that his opportunity would come.
It had presented itself in the form of do-gooders; nice people were so much easier to manipulate because they believed that everyone had a decent core. His plan had started with Gloria; lovely, trusting, gullible Gloria, whose letter he had dismissed until he’d read that last bit. The part that stated she hoped to hear from him before she died. It was in that moment that the plan had formed.
He had initially wondered if he could carry it off – not the wooing and courting of Gloria; he’d known that would be easy enough, but the other part of the plan.
He had taken the letter to the chaplain, who was a good man and welcomed any genuine attempt to reach out to Jesus. They had prayed right there and then for Gloria’s health, and from that moment Symes had been a changed man. He picked no fights, minded his business, went to every session where he could display remorse for his crimes. He invited Gloria to visit him and showed her that she was right. He was misunderstood, he was sorry for what he’d done, and it was all out of the absence of love in his childhood. He knew that his every move and action would all, one day, get back to the decision makers. He took every opportunity he could to pray with the chaplain. He stopped writing to other women and focussed all his energy on Gloria. They were married exactly three months from the day he’d read her letter.
Charading as a nice person had become simpler as time went on. Once he learned how to separate his thoughts from his actions, it became easier. In the privacy of his cell he could fantasise as much as he liked about inflicting pain and violence as long as he kept those thoughts to himself.
He had remained devoted to Gloria until her death two weeks earlier. The bitch had hung on longer than he’d thought, and upon hearing the news, he’d hidden his delight behind brave, unshed tears and a quiet dignity.
He had respectfully requested the opportunity to attend her funeral, agreeing to any measures deemed necessary so that he could say a proper goodbye to his courageous, adored wife.
Every building block had led him to this point, every counselling session, every prayer reading, every time he’d curtailed his natural tendencies, every time he’d walked away from a fight, every time he’d helped a fellow prisoner, every time he’d donned the mask of a decent human being. Everything had been for this one request.
He’d already heard of the recent Home Office directive that prisoners were to be offered attendance at funerals of close family members either in person or virtually. Joining by iPad had been no good for his plan, so he’d gone to town with the tears in his grief counselling session. And Margaret had come good for him. She’d bought it hook, line and sinker and had recommended a temporary pass for Gloria’s funeral.
During the journey, the coughing fit and accompanying distress had forced the guards to pull over to check him, and the rest had been a piece of cake.
There were no words to describe his elation at finally removing the shackles both literally and physically. Once the cuffs were off, he let the pent-up rage within him finally explode. Yes, he’d continued beating the shit out of the two guards, even though they were unconscious, because he was enjoying himself. Yes, he had relished the sensation of flesh being pummelled into a bloody mess and the sound of bones breaking beneath his fist. He only knew that there was no more pretending to be a decent human being and that he was once again free to be himself.
His hands drew together. His fingertips touched the knuckles. He revelled in the broken skin and bruising he felt there. The discomfort filled him with joy.
He was now where he’d dreamed of being for years. He was on the cusp of fulfilling his dearest wish. He cared nothing for what happened to him once he’d achieved his goal.
‘Soon, Stone, soon,’ he whispered as he slinked back into the shadows.
As he moved away, he remembered again that day she had robbed him of his reward. His only payment had been the lives of those two little girls. She had taken that away from him together with the sight in his left eye.
Had she known then that in doing what she did, in rescuing little Charlie and Amy from his clutches, that she had, in fact, exchanged their two lives for her own?
EIGHT
‘Well, I’m not sure what else your night entails but I’m taking Barney for his late-night walk.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Leanne said easily as she checked her phone.
‘Okay, Leanne,’ Kim said, crossing her arms, ‘I think we need some ground rules here before—’
‘There’s only one ground rule I’m aware of which is that you do as I say or you’re off to Norfolk.’
‘I swear this situation is not going to end well for—’
‘Hit the pause button,’ Leanne said as her phone dinged a message.
The first hint of a smile rested on her face as she read. ‘Perfect timing.’
Kim watched as she headed for the front door and unlocked it. Kim wasn’t aware Leanne had even locked it behind them.
‘What the hell?’ Kim asked as Barney issued a couple of low-throated growls.
Two men dressed in jeans and T-shirts passed Leanne carrying an assortment of boxes.
‘Move aside, Stone,’ Leanne instructed. ‘Some of these are heavy.’