Chapter 1- A Quiet Drink

"Oh God. Not you. Not you as well. I am so, so sorry." John was pacing up and down restlessly, running his hands through what little hair remained on his head.

"What are you talking about John? You have nothing to be sorry for." Ann's voice betrayed none of the unease that she was beginning to feel. This was so unlike him, and yet over the past few days he had been acting differently, unable to look her in the eye, slipping out of the room as she entered it. To begin with she hadn't noticed, had been too wrapped up in her own excitement at being able to work with the detectives, at the praise she had received when she identified the latest victim. Now there was no avoiding it.

"You worked out who she was. I'd be congratulating you, commending what Jodie called your "joined-up-thinking". But you've ruined everything. They're going to find out. And it's your fault…"

"John?" Ann backed away from the detective, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Thoughts of Tommy Lee Royce and what she had gone through last year flashed through her mind. What was it about her that attracted the psychos? She did her best to calm herself down: John was a police officer, and a kind man, there was no way he would do anything to hurt her.

She was still trying to convince herself that he was just upset about his wife and had somehow got the wrong end of the stick when his expression changed. In an instant the anguish was gone and it was set with a look of determination which terrified her.

Desperate to buy herself some time, she asked "John, what is this about? Are you talking about the latest victim, Vicky Fleming? I don't understand." Before she had a chance to react John had struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She staggered backwards tripping and falling to the floor, no longer in any doubt as to how dangerous the situation she was in was.

"You stupid, stupid girl. That's all you are, a girl. Such a waste." John was towering over her now, and any trace of his usual self-pity was gone. There was spittle on his lip and a look in his eye which Ann had only seen once before, with Tommy Lee Royce.

One look at those eyes was all it took. Gathering her strength, she kicked out as hard as she could, catching him in the groin. He doubled up in pain, involuntarily gasping in surprise. This was her moment. Pushing herself upwards off the kitchen counter she flew down the corridor towards the door. It was locked and as she desperately cast about for a key she heard John straighten up in the kitchen, grunting in pain.

As he lunged down the corridor towards her she leapt up the first of the stairs, scrambling her way up as quickly as she could. Making a desperate move for the first door she came to she managed to get into the room and slam the door behind her. She was in a children's bedroom, walls painted a bright shade of fuchsia. Scattering teddies and dolls from the floor, she grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and propped it beneath the door handle.

John was outside, hammering on the door, shouting her name over and over. She felt like she hadn't taken a breath since she fled the kitchen and the first she took now were ragged with fear.

"Think Ann, think." Taking deep breaths to steady her she took stock of the situation. Her phone was downstairs on the coffee table, next to the wine glass which John had been about to refill. For that she could be thankful, the only thing that could make this any worse was if she was drunk. There was a small window in the bedroom which looked out onto the road, but she doubted anyone would hear her if she opened it and called for help and there was no way she would be able to climb out and get away.

With a sinking feeling she realised that she could no longer hear John outside the door. Heart in her mouth, she began to move towards it, praying that he had gone. A few feet from the door and it suddenly shook against its hinges. John was trying to kick it in and she was stuck in his child's bedroom, with nothing but cuddly toys to defend herself. She was trapped. And if she was honest with herself, she was done for.