She saw the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. She blinked and it was gone.
‘The armed officer was not for your cooperation. He was for your protection.’
‘From what? I haven’t yet met anyone who warrants that level of—’
‘Symes has escaped.’
‘Wh…What?’
‘He’s free. He’s out there, and as far as we know, he hasn’t forgiven you. We both know you’re still top of his list.’
Kim sat back in the chair. Symes was by far the single most evil person she had ever met. He was a man that made her arch nemesis, Alexandra Thorne, look like a teddy bear.
Every muscle in Symes’s body was driven by anger and hate. His only joy came from inflicting pain.
Their paths had crossed a few years back when he’d been involved in the abduction of two nine-year-old girls. For all his time and effort, the man’s only demand had been the promise of inflicting as much pain as he wanted on the little girls once the money was received. He wanted no share of the ransom though, and his interest was not sexual. His payment was the pure enjoyment he would receive from causing pain.
Luckily, she and the team had foiled the plan and returned the girls to safety before he could harm them, but the physical struggle between herself and Symes – and a piece of glass from a broken light bulb – had resulted in him losing the sight in one eye.
He had never forgiven her, and while imprisoned he had become obsessed with getting revenge. She’d become aware of a previous attempt to escape and track her down which had been thwarted when another sicko from her past had chosen to recreate the most traumatic events of her life. She’d thought that was the end of it, but she should have guessed that Symes’s hatred of her ran deeper than that.
‘It appears he began work on his new plan immediately. He’s been very busy getting rehabilitated.’
‘Rehabilitation isn’t an option for Symes,’ Kim said.
‘Agreed, but his many hours with the prison chaplain paid off when his wife died two weeks ago.’
‘What wife?’
‘The one he married nine months ago knowing she was terminally ill.’
‘You are kidding me?’
Woody shook his head.
She was sure it was as much a mystery to him as it was to her how much female attention men attracted while incarcerated. It was fair to say that Symes was not a looker. At six feet four inches, bald, and carrying around twenty-four stone in weight, he was no catch. The broken nose and glass eye did little to improve matters, and yet his fan mail had outnumbered every other prisoner at Featherstone.
‘He married her just because he knew she was going to die?’
Woody nodded. ‘The prison chaplain and psychologist were in agreement that attending the funeral was in the best interest of the prisoner, to help his abandonment issues and his deep-seated fear of rejection and—’
‘Sir, you have to be joking?’
‘I wish I was, Stone, but they really felt he was genuinely grieving.’
‘Don’t suppose an “I told you so” memo will put him back in the box, will it?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Have the families of Charlie and Amy been informed?’ she asked. He’d been promised the lives of two little girls and, despite the fact they were now in their teens, it was hard to know what warped direction his revenge would take.
‘They have. They’ll be taking precautions.’
‘How long has he been on the run?’ she asked.
‘Twenty-four hours now.’
‘Jesus, he could be anywhere.’