“You won’t get away with this!” she yells.
“I already have, lapochka.”
I walk to my office as she makes havoc in her room.
I have a corpse to deal with sooner than I expected, but a far prettier and more innocent prisoner than those I usually hunt. For once, I’m looking forward to finding out what my captive has been doing. What she likes.
What would break her to my will.
5
TESS
I think I’ve been abducted by a serial killer. Just my luck.
I expect him to return and threaten me or… I don’t even know. I reflect on what he told me. It’s fifty-fifty if he’s morally grey or pitch-black.
But he doesn’t. He’s left me to my thoughts and hopes of escape.
The windows are locked, the door is locked. There’s a luxurious bathroom—an enormous white stone free-standing bathtub, warm tiled flooring, and a walk-in shower the size of my bed—but nothing practical I can use. Just some really nice smelling soap.
The bedroom is the sort of plain that you know is expensive. Immaculate. The bedsheets, when I lie down on them, are soft. I try to remember every detail of the masked man. I replay the image of his face, and his tattoos. The distance to his house, and its design. Everything I’ve seen of it is simple. Black and white and grey. I repeat the times on the clock I saw in his car, and the signs and place names that flashed past as we left London. If I get out of here, I need to be prepared.
I attempt to stay awake, and my mind races with what might happen next. I don’t want to fall asleep, but exhaustion overcomes fear. Eventually, I’m pulled under.
6
KIRILL
I deal with the corpse and all the contaminated items, and shower. All the time, I’m thinking about her. Hurrying, because I want to discover everything about her. When I finally get to my computer, I hack into her phone, and from there I’m in her email, and it’s easy to access everything about her.
Her name is Tess Summerfield. She’s twenty years old, and studying for a degree in psychology. She spends between four and eight hours on her phone every day, often on social media and a reading app she’s subscribed to.
Her bank account hovers just above zero mostly, popping up briefly after she’s paid each month. I track back a few years, and the incomings are just her wages and student loan, no gifts for her birthday or Christmas. The only way money enters her account is if she earns it.
Nearly all of her outgoings are her rent, bills, and food.
I chuck a few thousand from my own funds into her account because it makes me uncomfortable to see her balance so low.
I notice that on an online store she has a wish list of ebooks, which confuses me, since she also has a paid reading subscription app and gets books from the library. It takes amoment, but I discover that they are the over-priced books that aren’t included, and have hundreds-long queues at the library.
A few clicks and I’ve put the books she wants into the unlimited subscription, plus others I think she’ll like. It will take a while before the publishers realise how they suddenly opted into the contracts, and should be easily enough time for Tess to read them. For good measure, I buy more copies of those books for the libraries, and ensure they have hundreds of anonymous donations to cover the cost.
Reading Tess’ reviews of the books she reads—honestly eyebrow-raising stuff featuring ice hockey players—is amazing.
It’s hours later that I emerge from my investigations of Tess. I feel I’ve learned a lot of facts about her. I’ve bought lots of things, and ordered even more to be purchased and brought to the house immediately. Despite looking at every digital facet of Tess’ life, there’s a surprising itch. I want to know her more, in person. Face to face.
Then a notification from one of my men buzzes on my phone. I frown in confusion as I check it, taken aback to find that it’s morning, and I’ve obsessed over Tess all night. I stretch, and pad down to the front door.
A pile of parcels lies there. Waiting.
7
TESS
The next thing I know is soft light. It’s pleasantly warm, and the sheets are smooth. For a second, I hover in a place of utter comfort.
I sit bolt upright, heart thudding.
