By the time she’d reached Petersham Meadows she had settled into a decent pace and her breathing had become regular, but she was feeling uneasy. She’d found herself looking about her the moment she had reached the towpath, and at first she put it down to the job she’d been involved in several months ago – a dismembered body, crammed inside a suitcase, had been found only quarter a mile ahead beside the riverbank. Now though, with each step, she had a sense of being followed. She glanced behind her a couple of times and once she caught sight of a hooded figure running a few hundred yards behind. For a nanosecond James Green popped into her thoughts and that rattled her, but the runner peeled away, heading back into town, and she heaved a sigh of relief, telling herself she was becoming paranoid. The event caused her to slacken her pace. Her watch told her she was a good minute slower than normal so, clawing in a lungful of air, she kicked up her heels and put in a burst.
By the time she got home she had pushed herself so hard that she was shaking and convinced she was going to throw up. Doubling over, supporting herself with one arm against the wall, she took in gulps of air and steadied her breathing, regaining her composure. It took a couple of minutes to recover, then she stretched out and went inside to get some water.
Twenty-three
James Green spotted Scarlett the moment she came out through her gate and onto the footpath. She was wearing a sweat top and tight lycra leggings. He dodged down quickly behind a parked car, pretending to tie his shoelaces, staying there as she stretched out her calves and hamstrings. Nice arse Detective Macey.
Seconds later he watched her set off at a jog. He told himself that he would give her a few more seconds before he followed. Seeing her pick up her pace and turn the corner, he noted she was heading towards Sheen Road, towards Richmond Bridge.
Now it was safe to follow.
Turning the corner of her road he was surprised how far ahead she had got. You’re fast Detective Macey. But he was fast too. He knew he needed to hang back, reminding himself he was following merely to observe; study your enemy. Know their strengths and weaknesses. He kept his pace and his distance.
It was as he thought - she was pounding along Sheen Road. But then, after a hundred yards, she took a turn onto Richmond Hill and bombed down the Terrace Gardens and onto the Thames towpath. It took him by surprise and he had to put in a spurt. By the time he hit the footpath beside the river he was clawing for breath. Then he spotted her looking back over her shoulder. Back at him. He was so glad he’d left a good gap between them; there was no way she would be able to see it was him following.
Something’s spooked her.
He didn’t want to blow it. He had plenty of time; he'd already found out where she lived thanks to his patience.
Turning away, he sprinted for home.
Twenty-four
Following a long shower, Scarlett dried her hair, changed into jeans and a thin woollen jumper, lunched on banana and yoghurt and then headed to the High Street to do a big shop; she was running low – not just of food, but of other household items as well. Along the way she couldn’t resist paying a visit to a couple of clothes shops, buying a new top, a pair of trousers and some chunky costume jewellery for tomorrow’s meet with Alex; it had been a good few months since she had treated herself to something new and she wanted to make a good impression.
Purchases in hand, she made for her original destination – the supermarket. For ten minutes she scoured aisles and shelves, picking up the things she desperately needed, alongside a few treats she didn’t, but in that instant fancied. As she selected a piece of filleted salmon from the fish counter a sudden movement at the periphery of her vision brought her up sharp. It was a fleeting glimpse of someone moving fast at the corner of her eye. Turning sharply, she was just in time to see a hooded figure turning into the next food lane. The hoodie the person was wearing was light grey – the same colour as the runner from that morning. Her heart lurched. She dropped the tray of salmon into her trolley and trotted after the figure, but there was no one fitting the description she’d seen. She rushed to the next aisle. Again, there was no one in a grey hooded top. For a brief moment she panned her eyes over much of the store from where she was standing but to no avail. She cursed inwardly, telling herself this was stupid. She was being stupid. She’d got James Green too firmly inside her head and she needed to dislodge him now and get on with her weekend. She continued with her shopping, though she glanced over her shoulder once or twice, but as she put the last items into her trolley and pushed it towards the till she told herself she was definitely becoming obsessed with Green and allowed herself a half-laugh. Watching the woman in front packing her shopping she began feeding her goods onto the belt for the cashier, mentally ticking off each article she set down against the shopping list she held inside her head. As she set down the last of her items she happened to glance up at the large windows which gave a view out to the car park. And there she saw James Green looking at her from outside, his face pressed against the window, a smug, superior grin etched across his face. He waved at her, and then turned and walked slowly away. A strange sensation overcame her. Some of it was anger but some of it was fear.
Twenty-five
Scarlett took a taxi home. As a precaution she got the driver to drop her off in the next street so she could check if Green had followed her. As the taxi pulled away and she stood with her shopping at her feet, she looked around and could feel the fury building. By the time she had walked the few hundred yards home – checking around every dozen or so steps – she was a melting pot of rage. After opening the front door, she set down her shopping, slammed the door and let out an enormous scream.
He’s fucking stalking me! The bastard!
Thirty seconds later, feeling a little calmer, Scarlett carried her bags into the kitchen and began unloading her purchases and putting them away, though she couldn’t shake Green’s conceited face from her thoughts. She wanted to punch the living daylights out of him. As she stored away the last of her things she considered ringing Tarn to tell him what had happened, but dismissed it; he had his marriage to sort out and he wouldn’t appreciate her call. Besides, Green was long gone and nothing could be done right now. She would leave it until Monday and bring it up at briefing. It would give her ammunition to target James Green again.
That afternoon, following lunch of a ham and cucumber sandwich, she threw open a couple of windows, and the French doors to her patio garden, put on the TV’s rock music channel, and cleaned the house, changing the sheets on her bed and putting on the washing machine. It felt quite cathartic and by late afternoon she had rid herself of the frustration of what had happened earlier at the supermarket. After a long soak in the bath she prepared an evening meal of a salad with the salmon she had bought that morning, washed down with chilled Sauvignon Blanc. Then, in her dressing gown, she settled down on the sofa to watch TV with the remainder of her wine; it was quite some time since she’d done a quiet Saturday night in, but A, she was still feeling shattered from the week she’d endured, and B, she wanted to feel fresh for tomorrow when she was meeting Alex.
***
Scarlett awoke with a start. A sound had made her jump and she realised it was from the TV. She’d fallen asleep watching Casualty but it had ended, replaced by the news; she had only been asleep for twenty minutes. The first thing she spotted was her empty glass and the empty wine bottle; the drink had relaxed her and she’d dropped off; she was more tired than she’d thought. As she sat up a sudden draught at her neck made her shiver. It was coming from the hall. She raised herself off the sofa, feeling a chill about the room. Re-arranging her dressing gown, she pulled it snug and fastened the belt as she stepped into the hall. The draught was stronger here, coming from the kitchen which was in darkness. Switching on the light her gaze fastened upon the French doors to her bijou patio garden. They were open. Wide open. She could have sworn she had closed them before she’d gone for her bath. Then she remembered she’d definitely seen them closed
when she’d prepared her evening meal. Suddenly she was unnerved again.
Twenty-six
James Green lay in bed grinning to himself and reflecting on the day’s entertainment. First he’d followed Detective Macey out on a run and then on her shopping spree. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the adrenalin rush had been so good that he’d not been able to resist waving to her. To let her know he was there. Then there had been tonight. That had really capped the day: he had climbed the fence into her garden, found she’d left the French doors into her kitchen unlocked and hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity to sneak inside. He had caught her asleep on the sofa. Just yards away. The buzz had been truly spectacular – like nothing else he had ever experienced. He knew he could have done her there and then, but the control he had exerted upon himself had given him an extra surge of adrenalin, spiking him and fulfilling his need for that moment. He had snapped her on his phone and then tiptoed back through her kitchen, letting himself out and climbed back over the fence without her knowing. Now he’d done it once he knew there would be another opportunity. Detective Macey wouldn’t know what was coming.
James started to play with himself. He was rock hard. The Lycra Rapist had been inside Detective Macey’s house without her knowing. This was a cause for celebration.
Twenty-seven
Scarlett had suffered a restless night despite having checked and double-checked every window, double locked the doors and set the perimeter alarm – a first – before going to bed. The incident with the French doors had unnerved her. James Green had tunnelled his way into her thoughts and made her too pumped up to relax. She had told herself that she was being ridiculous – she was stretching her imagination too far – there was a simple solution to this; she’d closed the doors, but she hadn’t locked them and the breeze had blown them open. In spite of repeatedly telling herself this, she had not managed to convince herself and she’d lain awake well into the early hours latching onto every sound around her, no matter how slight. When she had finally succumbed to sleep it was only for three hours; she woke at first light and was unable to go back off.
Now she was up and it was daylight she felt more comfortable. Switching on the TV and selecting a music channel she got herself a coffee, cereal and grapefruit for breakfast and in between mouthfuls sang along to Rihanna. After washing the pots she bummed around until 11 a.m., sorting out her wardrobes and cleaning the bathroom – something she hadn’t got around to yesterday – and then got ready to meet Alex. They were meeting at Gaucho’s, the riverside restaurant by Richmond Bridge. They had been there before. It was an expensive but always enticing menu, wonderfully cooked and prepared food and the setting was gorgeous. Just the thought of meeting Alex had set her heart fluttering and taken her mind off James Green.
Scarlett stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her before gazing into the mirror. She was shocked by her appearance – her face was pale and drawn. She pinched her cheeks to put a little colour in them; she would need an extra dollop of make up today, she told herself as she made her way into the bedroom. Three-quarters of an hour later, moisturised and face painted, she pulled on her new buys, added a leather jacket and a pair of heels she’d not worn for a while, checked her appearance in the mirror and left the house. The restaurant was under three-quarters of a mile away, and although the sky was overcast it wasn’t cold, so she decided to take a steady walk along the towpath.
Alex was waiting for her outside the restaurant. He greeted her with a gentle embrace and kiss to the cheek which she reciprocated. He was wearing the eau-de-cologne she’d bought him for Christmas and she lingered a little longer, taking in the smell, her heart bolting for a moment before she caught herself and drew away.
Eyeing her up and down, he said, ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you. I see you’ve made an effort yourself,’ she responded.
He gave a short laugh. ‘You don’t change Scarlett. Fancy a beer before we eat? I’ve booked a table’
She did. She nodded.
They entered the restaurant and Alex checked in with the maitre de, informing him they wanted a drink before taking their table. They made their way to the bar and Alex ordered two beers in bottles, wedges of lime jammed into the necks.
After chinking bottles in salute, Scarlett took a sip on her beer. The tangy lager instantly refreshed her dry throat. She savoured the coldness of the liquid travelling into her stomach and for the first time that week she felt herself unwinding.
‘This brings back memories,’ said Alex.
Scarlett met Alex’s gaze. His wide smile was showcasing a beautiful set of teeth. She felt her face flush. ‘Good memories.’
Holding onto her look he said, ‘So what you been up to? Has your week picked up since the court case? Have you got over what happened to your witness?’
She offered up a wan smile. ‘A little, but I can’t help but think how sad Claudette must have been to have done that and whether I’m to blame. I’ve asked myself a few times whether I was so caught up in getting Green convicted that I ignored her feelings.’
He grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t think that for one minute. I know you, Scarlett. One thing you are good at is supporting and helping people. That girl taking her own life wasn’t your fault. You weren’t to know what was going on inside her head. You did what you thought was best.’
‘I know deep down I did my best, but what happened made me look at myself. I have to admit that, selfishly, my initial feeling when I found her was that a rapist was going to go free.’
‘That’s just a natural reaction. You’d put so much effort into capturing him. I’m sure if he strikes again you’ll be there to feel his collar.’
‘I’ll bloody make sure I am.’
Squeezing her hand and then releasing it he said with a mischievous smile, ‘And when you do, give him a swift kick in the balls on behalf of all his victims.’
His gallows humour lifted her. She wanted to tell him about what had happened yesterday but his throwaway comment was a prompt for her to keep the atmosphere light so she responded with, ‘I certainly will. And I’ll make sure I’m wearing my motorcycle boots.’
They let out a laugh together causing a few heads at nearby tables to turn.
Alex leaned in and said softly, ‘I think we’re lowering the tone. Come on let’s have another drink and then we’ll sit down and order.’
The hour and a half they were at their table flew by. The food as usual was wonderful and the conversation flowed as well as the bottle of wine they ordered. They even flirted with one another. Afterwards Alex paid the bill. She had tried to insist on splitting it but he said my treat – and wouldn’t have it any other way.
As she rose Scarlett had to catch herself. She felt slightly tipsy. Alex gently grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Come on we’ll have a stroll and wear off some of this booze, then what you say we go over to my place and I make us a coffee? I’ve just bought this great espresso machine and I need to try it out.’
Scarlett met his sparkling blue eyes. ‘That sounds lovely.’
Twenty-eight
Opening her eyes to the sight of heavy black drapes drawn across the window threw Scarlett into a state of confusion. Then she remembered where she was and started to relax; Alex’s bedroom was a stark contrast to her own – mostly greys and blacks – very manly, though it was tasteful and nicely decorated. She turned over with a smile. Alex had his back to her and she lay for a moment listening to his gentle snuffle, running her eyes along the contours of his well-defined shoulder and neck muscles. Her smile stretched further. Images of yesterday tumbled inside her head. They hadn’t had coffee when they got back to his place, instead Alex had opened another bottle of wine and they had drunk that. Then they’d had sex. It was spontaneous, passionate and hurried; they had pulled and tugged at each other's clothes lustfully, and spilled to the floor in the lounge, thrashing and grabbing at one another and climaxing together in minutes. Short though it was, it had lef
t them both breathless and exhausted. They had stared up at the ceiling, holding hands and laughed about who had made the first move. ‘It was you,’ Alex had quipped. ‘You couldn’t resist me.’ She had nudged him playfully, but knew he was right – she had. After they had got their breath back, they had showered together, tenderly soaping one another as if touching each other was a new experience. It had aroused them both again and Alex had carried her to his bedroom where the sex had been longer, slower and more intimate. When he had asked her to stay the night it had been such an easy decision for her to say yes.
Glancing over Alex’s head she sought out the bedside clock. The green digits told her it was 7.18 a.m. Her head shot up. ‘Shit!’
Beside her Alex jumped, ‘What?’
Scarlett was swinging her legs out of bed. ‘I’m going to be late for work.’ She skipped to the bathroom – she needed the toilet. ‘Bloody hell, I haven’t got my clothes here or anything.’ She called back, shutting the door.
Alex hauled himself out of bed and pulled on his pants. He sought out his shirt and trousers but they weren’t anywhere to be seen. Then he remembered – they were still in the lounge among Scarlett’s clothes from yesterday afternoon. As he went to find them he called, ‘Grab a quick shower and I’ll drive you over to your place to get changed. You shouldn’t be too late.’
***
At the risk of getting a ticket Alex put his foot down to get Scarlett home, nevertheless she was still running late, and changed quickly. She decided to give styling her hair a miss and instead fashioned it up with grips. The same went for her make-up; as Alex drove she used the passenger visor mirror to repair her face. As the car came to a stop outside Sutton Police Station she took a last look in the mirror, and reasonably happy with her appearance, popped up the visor. It was just after 8.30 a.m.; half an hour late: She had already texted Tarn to cover for her. Reaching behind and snatching up her bag off the back seat she opened the door.
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