Sammy as seriously as I can.

  “No, Daddy, I promise I didn’t.”

  “Well what’s that behind your ear?” I reach

  across to her ear, touch the top of it and pull

  one pound from her left and repeat it for her

  right, which makes Sammy and Tanya laugh.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Sammy says, as she

  runs up the stairs from the basement.

  I look back to Tanya. “It’s not going to last

  long; I won’t be able to do stuff like that with

  them, soon, will I?” I say to Tanya.

  “No, they’re growing up so fast.”

  I lean in to kiss Tanya but she pulls away.

  “Not now, Ryan. We’re in a dirty basement. I

  don’t like it here.”

  “What’s wrong, Tan?”

  “We need to leave. We need to move away

  from here, leave Mulberry Lane, leave Surrey

  and leave this country. It’s for the best.”

  “I don’t understand, I thought you liked it

  here?”

  “No, I don’t.” Tanya’s voice is raised. “I

  don’t like it here, this house haunts me. I want

  to be far away from here with you and the

  kids. I think I’m going to leave.”

  “No, please don’t baby, I love you, don’t

  leave me. I couldn’t cope without you and the

  kids.”

  “You are coping without the kids, I’m sure

  you can cope without me.”

  “What do you mean? The kids are still here.”

  “Where are they then?”

  45

  “They went to get ice cream.”

  “Oh really? Look behind you, then.”

  I look behind to see the figure standing

  directly behind me again. My vision blurs, I

  turn to look at Tanya, but she’s gone. I’m in

  the basement, on my own.

  I awaken on the kitchen floor, short of

  breath. I try to remember my dream as much

  as I can, I try to remember Tanya and Sammy

  but I can’t.

  I stand up and drink water straight from the

  tap. I lean over the sink, full of rage. I pick up

  a glass and grip it as hard as I can, the shards

  fall into the sink. I sit back down in the chair

  and try to calm myself down.

  I breathe deeply, count down from ten and

  try to hold back my tears. I can’t break down;

  I need to stay strong if I ever want to find

  them again.

  I walk out the kitchen into the open hallway,

  and notice the basement door is slightly open.

  Why? I haven’t been in there today.

  I open the door and take a look down the

  wooden stairs, they fade into the darkness.

  I walk down the creaking stairs, pausing on

  the sixth step as I hear movement from within

  the basement. I stare into the blackness and

  wait for my eyes to adjust. I walk down two

  more steps and listen again. I hear more

  movement so I quickly switch on the lights

  and charge down to the bottom. As the lights

  begin to flicker, the shadows pulsate along the

  46

  walls until the lights stay on and I can finally

  see across the basement.

  I can’t see anyone, which is disappointing. I

  was hoping there would be a conclusion to it

  so I wouldn’t be constantly paranoid that

  something’s down here. Why couldn’t there

  just be an animal down here?

  After searching around the basement one last

  time, I go back upstairs into the kitchen and

  make myself dinner. Well, I say ‘make’, all I’ve

  got are microwavable meals, so it’s heated up

  Spaghetti Carbonara tonight.

  After finishing my very small meal, there’s a

  knock at the door. I get up to answer it. It

  better not be a sales person or a religious

  group begging me to go and pray with them,

  I’m really not in the mood.

  Through the frosted glass I make out the

  familiar shape of the caller. It’s Sandra,

  holding a plastic bowl in her hand. I open the

  door.

  “Hey there, Ryan.”

  “Hello Sandy, how are you?”

  “I’m good thanks, you?”

  “I’m good thank you. Don’t tell me, is that

  for me?”

  “Yep, I made it especially for you, seeing as

  you liked it so much last night. So here you

  go.” Sandra says as she hands me the plastic

  bowl. “Enjoy it.”

  “Oh I will, thank you so much for this. Do

  you wanna come in for a drink?”

  47

  “No, I should probably go back, got things to

  do, people to see.”

  “Okay then, fair enough. Thanks again

  Sandy” As I finish my sentence, she smiles

  and walks down the path. I look at her legs.

  “Was good to see you” I shout after her.

  “And you, Ryan.” She smiles again as she

  turns around to look at me.

  I continue to look her up and down until I

  see a car come down the road. It’s actually the

  first time I’ve seen someone driving round

  this estate.

  The black Mercedes Benz speeds towards

  Sandra. I take a deep breath as she steps out

  into the road without even looking. As I

  prepare to shout, the car puts on its brakes

  and comes to a stop in front of the Canns’s

  home. Sandra pauses in the middle of the

  road. After a moment, she goes over and hugs

  the young man who steps out of the car. He

  can’t be any older than twenty-five.

  After they hug, Sandra leads the way and

  opens the door into her house, welcoming the

  young man in, too.

  I take the Spaghetti Bolognese into the

  kitchen and put it in my half empty fridge. I

  put the kettle on and look out into the back

  garden. I haven’t had a chance to properly

  look around the woodland yet, might as well

  go and check it out.

  I quickly get changed and walk out into the

  garden, through the damp grass and stand in

  front of the dripping wire fence. I walk along

  the fence to the gate; it creaks as I open it and

  48

  swings shut after I’m through. I continue to

  walk through the wooded area. There doesn’t

  seem to be anything here other than vast

  woodland.

  I walk further in, dodging the branches and

  vines that sag down from the trees and caress

  my shoulders.

  After a while, I decide to turn back, this just

  goes on and on. I’ll just look on Google Earth

  when I get home to see what it backs onto. I

  guess it’ll probably just lead to a nature

  reserve or a farmer’s field most likely.

  I turn around and walk high-kneed over the

  trip-hazard branches on the ground. I crack

  branches and drag my feet in the damp mud

  and crinkled leaves.

  My foot stomps down onto the squelching

  mud and I hear a branch break behind me. I

  stop. The bottoms of my shoes are thick with

  mud and moss.

  I start to walk again and hear another branch

  break. I pause, turning slowly. I stare into the

  opening of the woods. There’s nobody there,

  not any form of life. Why do I feel so

  paranoid here?!

  I turn back towards home and get the

  familiar feeling that somebody’s following me.

  More branches break behind me so I quicken

  my pace. I look only forward, as the branches

  begin to snap closer to me. The leaves rustle

  right behind me. I want to look but I can’t. I

  speed up. I can see the gate to the house; I’m

  so close, I’m nearly there. As I make it up the

  slope, I step on a branch and stumble. I

  49

  recover and make the gate. I’m through and

  safe. I get into the garden and slam the gate

  shut behind me. Now I can get a proper look.

  I look into the trees and see movement. I hear

  the branches breaking, but this time, they’re

  distant.

  50

  Headlines

  Killing For Your Love

  Chapter 2

  I lie with my bare face on the wintery ground.

  My heart is sunken and bruised. I don’t know

  where she is. I don’t know what to do or where to

  go.

  She’s been taken from me, there’s no explanation

  or reasoning, just snatched from my grasp.

  We’ve been married for years. I remember the

  moment we first set sight on each other. I

  remember proposing on the beach. I remember

  our wedding like it was yesterday. Our

  relationship was perfect, but now, she’s gone.

  I don’t have the heart to tell the kids that their

  mummy has been taken. They’re in England and

  I’m here in France, they won’t feel safe without

  me.

  I need to find her. I need to get my Lizzie back.

  I will kill for my Love, my desire and for

  justice…

  I walk into the safety of my house and open

  my laptop, which is sitting in its usual place

  on the kitchen table. I sit down, log on and

  get on to Google Maps. I type in ‘Mulberry

  Lane, Surrey’ and see the cul-de-sac straight

  away. The images are definitely not up to date.

  My house has a car out the front, children’s

  slides in the back garden and a paddling pool.

  Hmm, that’s weird, as far as I know Andrew

  Myers doesn’t have any children.

  51

  What strikes me as even weirder is that the

  grubby house on the end of the close isn’t

  grubby at all. It actually looks normal. It still

  looks like a shed compared to the houses

  surrounding it, but at least it’s well

  maintained. The grass looks cut from what I

  can see on the satellite shots.

  I move to the back of the house using

  Google Maps and look at the vast woodland

  behind it. I move above the tree line of the

  woodland, into the direction I was heading in

  earlier. Just like I thought, it simply leads to a

  field which backs onto more woodland.

  Lucky I didn’t waste my time with that long

  and pointless journey.

  As I finish up on the computer, a strong,

  stale stench creeps up my nose. Right, I’ve

  had enough, this is disgusting. I take the lid

  off my bin. Inside, there are empty tubs of

  ready-meal packaging, leftover food and half-

  eaten fruit. Bloody hell, when was this last

  emptied Simon?! I pull the rubbish bag out of

  the bin, tie a knot at the top and take the

  rubbish bag to the front door and leave it

  outside, against the wall.

  A glint of light catches my eye. The glistening

  Mercedes Benz still parked outside the

  Cann’s’ home. I may have to go over later.

  As I turn around to go back inside, the

  scrunched corners of another local newspaper

  on the floor catch my attention.

  “What a waste of trees,” I say to myself.

  52

  I go into the sitting room with paper under

  my arm and fall onto the bouncy armchair.

  As I look over the headlines, avoiding the

  endless advertisements and unimportant

  school stories, I see ‘blonde woman’ written

  all over the page as headlines and sub

  headings. My eyes focus and I begin to look

  over the articles.

  A headline reads, ‘Blonde, middle aged

  woman found dead.’ Really? Around here, in

  quiet and peaceful Surrey? If Tanya was here,

  I’d be the overprotective husband right now.

  I’m sure Simon will be with Sandra.

  ‘Riley Clark, 42, was discovered by her

  daughter in her home.’

  There are some sick people in this world. I

  continue to read the collection of stories in

  the paper.

  Riley Clark was killed in her own home after

  being ‘brutally raped and strangled to death.’

  If she was raped then surely there would be

  some prints or DNA? The police are useless.

  Another name pops up: Amanda Holmes, 35.

  She was discovered dead in her home after

  ‘suspicious smells’ and ‘a large mass of flies at

  her window.’ She was found on her living

  room floor where she was ‘cut to death.’

  Unfortunately, I know how she was cut and

  where. This wasn’t just in the local paper; this

  was on all the big tabloids. Her stomach was

  cut open and her veins were cut out from her

  hands up to her elbows. It was a really vicious

  crime and was told extensively though various

  news reports when it first happened.

  53

  Another victim, Mary Cole, 46. She was

  found in the street, tied to a lamp post. She

  was beaten to death and raped.

  I look at the articles and then the names and

  pictures of the women who were killed. I wish

  I could find out who did this to these women.

  This type of person probably took Tanya and

  my kids away from me.

  I begin to think of Tanya and when I do, I

  sense a pair of eyes staring at me. I look

  straight ahead, not focusing on the newspaper

  in front of me. I see the blurred word

  ‘Blonde’ written in capitals. As I move the

  paper down slightly, I see the top of a blonde

  woman’s head. I shut my eyes and look again,

  but she’s disappeared. I move the whole paper

  away from my sight and look ahead. I get up,

  out of the chair and look at the ground where

  the woman stood.

  I hear something drop outside the room. I

  turn toward the door and leave the sitting

  room. I stand in the open hallway and listen

  carefully. Did that come from upstairs? I can’t

  figure it out.

  As I walk towards the stairs I hear a clop

  sound come from the kitchen. Clip, clop. It

  sounds like a woman in heels. Maybe Sandra

  is here.

  “Hello?” I shout.

  I walk to the door and rest the back of my

  hand on it.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  54

  I push the door open slowly so that it creaks.

  Straight away, I spot the back door open. I

  must have forgotten to shut it again. I shut

  the door and turn around to see Tanya sitting

  at the kitchen table.

  “Tan? Where’ve you been?”

  “Here the whole time.” She snaps. “You

  know that anyway, don’t you?”

  “Wh… I haven’t seen you. Where are the

  kids?”

  Tanya’s skin is white. Her head turns away

  suddenly and then it turns slowly towards me.

  Her eyes look tired; it looks as if two dark

  purple slugs sit below her eyes. As her head

  turns, she smiles eerily; her eyes darken, her

  lips shrink and her sharp teeth gleam.

  “They’re outside, playing.”

  I turn and look into the garden. The pink

  plastic table from the basement is outside with

  three chairs around it. To my disappointment,

  the kids aren’t there. There’s only the brown

  bear from the basement, sitting on one of the

  chairs.

  I turn back to Tanya and she startles me, she

  stands face-to-face with me, millimetres away.

  I stare at her. She leans in even closer. She

  tilts her head and puts her mouth by my ear. I

  feel flicks of her warm breath touch my neck.

  As I relax, I can feel her breath in my ear.

  She’s whispering, but I can’t hear her.

  “What’s that Tan?”

  She whispers again, but I can’t hear anything.

  I can only feel her breath tapping my ear with

  her lip movement.

  55

  “Say it again, Tan.”

  “Help me,” she says clearly and firmly.

  “Ryan, you need to help me. You need to

  help. The kids need you.”

  Within a blink, she disappears. I look straight

  ahead for a moment. Why am I imagining her

  in so much detail? It’s like she was really here.

  I only ever usually dream of her and the kids

  when I’m drunk. I talk to her then, but never

  like this, never.

  I look outside and the table has disappeared.

  I walk back into the sitting room and look at

  the paper again. I look at a statement that a

  leading investigator gave about the murders of

  blonde women in Surrey. I look at the young

  guy, standing behind his podium, holding his

  speech notes. I recognise him; where have I

  seen him before?

  I look down to the quote next to his picture

  which reads: ‘“This criminal will be stopped,

  we are doing everything we can to protect our