Knife Edge (21 page)

But if she was home, then he was less than a mile away from her, and drawing closer every moment.

He coasted across the railway bridge and turned left off the main road, drawing up just in front of the garages at a point where trees blocked any view from the overlooking houses. Glancing up to make sure nobody was around, he reached forward and released the long steel wrench arm that was taped to the underside of the bike frame, resting its weight across the handlebars and gripping it with his gloved fingers as he set off again.

Alexandra Park was on a hill and he’d decided to ride past the foot of it for a preliminary look, before circling round and approaching from the top end. The street appeared quiet as he drifted past, so he powered on, taking the next turning and working up the incline between the looming terraced buildings. Reaching the junction at the far end, he turned right, following the road round until her house came into view again.

Still nobody around. Green light.

He swerved up onto the empty pavement, gently freewheeling down the slope, obscured from view between the hedges and the parked cars, until he reached her gate. He didn’t stop, just steered smoothly in and coasted quickly down between the houses, like an expected guest would do. Dismounting quietly, he lifted the bike around so it was facing outwards and propped it carefully against the wall. Then, turning to face the side of the house, he stood on the doorstep and rang the bell. This was the moment – was she here?

He tightened his grip on the wrench arm, allowing it to hang casually at his side, two feet of solid steel, turning his body so that it wouldn’t be visible.

Movement.

He could hear someone approaching, muffled footsteps coming towards the door, the sound of the latch turning. The door opened inward, and suddenly there she was, dressed in a loose floral-print top and dark blue jeans, peering out at him in polite puzzlement.

‘Hi, Lesley!’ He spoke quickly, beaming like an old friend to keep her off balance. ‘Is Phillip home?’

‘Er, no …’ She answered without thinking, opening the door just a little wider as she struggled to work out who this was.

Naysmith smiled.

‘That’s OK,’ he shrugged, and swung the wrench.

It was a perfect blow, catching her under the chin and knocking her head backwards before she could react. He was already moving, calmly stepping across the threshold before launching himself forward with a snarl, knocking the stumbling woman to the floor, letting his full weight crash down onto her soft stomach to silence her, control her. But whether from the steel hitting her jaw, or the impact of her head against the floor, she was unconscious as he crawled up her body, the wrench raised over his head, ready to administer the fatal strike.

She was still breathing.

Straddling her torso, he held himself still for a moment, listening. But there was no sound, no approaching footsteps, no voice calling from another room.

She was still breathing. And he had her all to himself.

Getting to his feet, he quietly shut the front door and, leaving the prone figure sprawled on the carpet, made his way along the hall into the kitchen. Working quickly, he opened a couple of drawers beside the sink before his eyes came to rest on the knife block, tucked away in one corner of the worktop. Selecting a long, broad blade, he hefted it in his hand for a moment, then turned back towards the hallway.

She hadn’t moved. Still lying there, eyes mercifully closed, a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs. He was struck by how thick her ankles were, how much extra weight she was carrying – it was so much more apparent when her body was relaxed. For a moment, he wondered if he should steal something – to suggest a robbery motive – but the anticipation was killing him and he knew the clock was ticking. Better not to spend longer in the house than he had to.

Knives could be messy, but it was a change from his usual preferences. The blood was a risk – he wouldn’t have favoured a stabbing if he hadn’t had the time and privacy – but here was an opportunity to do something different, and it always paid to break from routine, make things a little harder for the police. Also, it might suggest a more personal, vindictive attack, rather than a random execution.

Better make it look convincing.

Kneeling down beside the woman, Naysmith placed one gloved hand carefully across her mouth, then raised the knife in his other, and turned his face away. He was naturally right-handed but would strike with his left. This was it – the moment when her life was finally and completely his – and he allowed himself to savour it for a few, rapturous seconds …

And then, it was time.

Her body stiffened with the first blow, but he held her firmly, stabbing again and again until she shuddered and relaxed beneath him. Without loosening his grip on her, he cautiously turned back to look.

Dark stains were blooming out across the fabric of her top but there was surprisingly little blood spatter. He had learned from experience to push the blade in quickly but draw it out slowly, and holding the body down had prevented her from spreading things around too much. He released his grip on the knife, leaving the blade in her chest. His gloved hand dripped red, and there was a little trickling along the underside of his forearm, but nothing too serious. He could feel the wave of nauseous excitement bubbling up in his stomach, but he forced it down for a moment.

First things first.

He got to his feet and walked unsteadily through to the kitchen, turning on the cold tap with his dry hand and rinsing the blood off his arm. Satisfied, he thought about turning the water off but decided to leave it running – less chance of any traces remaining in the sink trap. Turning, he went back into the hallway and knelt beside the body, bowing his head for a moment as though in prayer, calming himself.

There was still something he had to do.

Gazing down at her, his eyes settled on the heart-shaped silver pendant at her throat – a delicate piece of jewellery, the sort of gift that lovers exchanged. Nodding to himself, he leaned forward and pushed the dead woman’s hair aside, finding the clasp and undoing it. Cradling the back of her head in one gloved hand, he lifted it so that he could slide the pendant free before jamming it down into his pocket, making sure it was deep enough not to slip out.

Reaching up to his own neck, he located the fastener on the gold chain he wore and loosened it. Looping the chain around her throat was difficult, but after a couple of moments it was in place and he briefly lifted her head once more, ensuring her hair wasn’t caught anywhere, that there were no inexplicable tangles.

He stood and surveyed his handiwork. The gold chain didn’t look out of place on her. Smiling, he stooped to retrieve the steel wrench handle, then forced himself to check the floor for anything he might have dropped, anything amiss. Finally, he inspected his clothing for any telltale signs before moving carefully around the body and reaching for the door latch. Outside, everything was quiet – just another sleepy lunchtime in the suburbs. He drew the door closed behind him and went to his bike.

Balancing the wrench across the handlebars again, he mounted and coasted quietly out into the street, turning down the hill. Only now, as he turned into another road, did he allow the euphoria to claim him, feeling it surge up like an explosion of energy. The pedals were light beneath his feet as he powered back up the side roads that would take him away from the scene, and the awesome sensation of power made him want to shout. He controlled life itself! There was nothing he couldn’t do.

And one day, quite soon, Kim would know what he was capable of – she would see him as he truly was – and she would worship him. Grinning to himself, he crested the hilltop and began freewheeling back down into Bristol.

He had timed it perfectly. Slipping into Temple Meads Station via the side entrance, he merged into a group of other passengers. Holding his ticket aloft, he was waved through the barriers without question, and wheeled his bike along the main platform, scanning the overhead monitors for departures from behind his tinted glasses.

His train was on time.

Descending to the underpass, he made his way across to platform 12, where he found a quiet spot away from the scrutiny of the cameras, and waited for his train to arrive. This was where it became an art form. Anyone could lash out, even extinguish a life if they were brutal enough, but the skill lay in going undetected. He could drift in and vanish away again without leaving a trail. And if his timings went to plan, even Kim wouldn’t be able to guess how he’d managed it.

The journey to Avoncliff took half an hour. One other passenger got off there – a rustic old man with unruly white hair and hearing aids in his prominent ears – but Naysmith hung back on the platform, allowing him to labour up the steps to the aqueduct before climbing them himself. Fortunately, his timetable was a little more forgiving on the return journey. He waited long enough for the old man to cross the river and turn down towards the pub before getting onto his bike and riding back along the towpath.

The backpack was exactly where he’d left it. Unzipping the main compartment, Naysmith drew out his clothing, then gratefully peeled off the Lycra top and shorts, enjoying the shiver of cool air on his bare skin as he located the stolen pendant and held it up to admire.

Once dressed, he double-bagged the cycle gear in a pair of black plastic bin liners and stowed them in the backpack, ready to go to the charity bins at a not-so-local supermarket. Transformation complete, he climbed back up to the towpath and set off for Bradford on Avon.

The train got into Salisbury a little late, but he still made his connection. It wouldn’t have been a disaster if he’d had to cycle back from there, but just in case anyone ever managed to trace his route, he wanted the trail to end somewhere hopelessly rural, rather than the busy city so close to where he lived. As it was, he enjoyed a pleasant ride home, following quiet country lanes through the rolling Wiltshire landscape. Nobody saw him slip in through the back gate, and he had the kettle boiling when he heard Kim’s key in the front door.

He smiled as she walked into the kitchen. ‘Coffee’s on.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, putting her bag down on the counter. ‘Did you hear anything from the garage?’

‘Not yet,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll take you round there in the morning. By the way, remind me to check the boot of my car – I think I left my jacket in there, and my mobile’s in the pocket.’

‘A whole day without your phone …’ She sat down at the table and stifled a yawn. ‘Did you manage to get anything done?’

Naysmith poured the hot water. And smiled.

It rained all the next day. Midway through the afternoon, there were a few brief rumbles of thunder and the office lights dimmed momentarily.

‘Uh-oh.’ Marcus appeared at the door with a concerned expression. ‘Everyone make sure to save your work, just in case there’s a power cut.’

In her cubicle, Kim moved her mouse and clicked ‘Save’, then leaned back, allowing her chair to turn gently away from her desk. She gazed out through the droplets of water trickling down the window and looked across the neighbouring rooftops. Salisbury could be lovely in the summer but it was a depressing place in the wet – an unwelcoming huddle of old bricks and concrete, like a bleak Northern town transplanted to the South, complete with its weather.

She turned back to her screen and sighed.

Only six more sets of figures to prepare.

Her hand strayed to the heart-shaped silver pendant Rob had bought her as she glanced up at the clock. Ten past three. She really didn’t want to stay late again tonight. He had phoned and surprised her with cinema tickets. The film didn’t start until eight, but she wanted to go home and change before they went out.

She leaned forward and began working through the next set of numbers.

‘Kim?’

She glanced up to see Jane, who had got to her feet and was peering over the cubicle wall that divided them.

‘Yes?’ Kim frowned, annoyed at the interruption. She would need to start again from the top of the page. ‘What is it?’

‘I can’t find the files for the third quarter.’ The new girl was young and quiet, with short blonde hair. She was supposed to be a replacement for Dennis but, without his experience or work ethic, her principal contribution to the firm seemed to be that she was cheap. She certainly wasn’t carrying Dennis’ share of the workload.

‘Why do you need the quarter-three files?’ Kim asked. ‘I thought you were supposed to be going through quarter-two?’

‘I was,’ she shrugged, ‘but Marcus asked me to update all the linked sheets, and I need to reference the third-quarter files for that, don’t I?’

‘You do, but …’ Kim pushed her chair back from her desk and took a deep breath, ‘the quarter-three files aren’t actually complete yet. Marcus …’

She tailed off.

Marcus should have checked with her first before wasting Jane’s time.

‘So what should I do?’ Jane asked her.

Kim sighed and started to get to her feet.

‘We need to go through and check for any files that haven’t been updated since …’ She hesitated, then shook her head and sat down again. ‘Actually, no. You need to go back to Marcus and ask him to help you update the files. I have to get on and finish these figures.’

She couldn’t allow herself to be taken for a ride again.

‘Sorry,’ she added, concentrating determinedly on her screen.

‘No problem,’ Jane shrugged, turning and moving away. She had that special sort of calm that you only found in people who simply didn’t care.

Kim frowned and began working through the numbers again. She’d had just about enough of people taking her for granted.

Outside, the skies stayed dark. Kim worked hard and was just finishing the last set of numbers as the clock hit five thirty. Saving the last of her work to the server, she raised a hand, sliding it under her hair to massage the back of her neck, smiling as her fingertips touched the delicate silver chain. It had been a long afternoon, but the figures were done. She switched off her computer and gazed out at the rain for a moment before getting to her feet. Then, gathering up her bag and jacket, she walked out of her cubicle.