The Ballad of Tiffany Valentine

by smngry

Taking place between 1988 and 1999, this story covers various periods of Tiffany's ten year separation from Chucky. Old characters return as our murderous maiden finds out the astonishing truth about the man she loves. What follows is a decade long, blood soaked tale of love, murder revenge and revelations.

25. Chapter 4-4

Chapter 4.4

November 17th 1996

What was that?

That noise?

A high pitched groan sounding incessantly as Tiffany curled her fingers around the covers and pulled them over her head, the warm cotton feeling so refreshing against her cold skin but providing little protection from the irritating noise now ingraining itself in her head. Taking a deep breath and pulling the covers from her face, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking at first as they adapted to the light, flooding in from outside the window of the room. The noise still sounding, a rhythm now established, Tiffany swung a fist across the bedside table and felt a collision as the noise finally stopped, a smash as what Tiffany correctly guessed to be an alarm clock hit the floor and fell quiet. Clamping her eyes firmly shut once again, she felt a familiar feeling begin to burn through her head. The pulsating feeling beginning to emanate across her temples, as a sickness also rose from her stomach. Whatever she was drinking last night, it had certainly done the job because Tiffany had very little memory of anything following her drive back to the city. She remembered parking up with every intention of visiting Hangar 32, a nightclub down town well known for its random acts of violence, prolific drug use and live music, usually heavy metal and always very theatrical as the strobe lighting blinked above the sea of party goers, a stop motion effect administered upon the eyes of a casual observer. But last night she had ended up somewhere else entirely. The only question was where? There had been alcohol. That much was evident. After all the usual symptoms of dehydration, a banging headache and the urge to vomit, were all fighting for priority as Tiffany tried to swallow. Her throat dry and her mouth barren of any moisture whatsoever. Sitting up and reaching for the bedside table, Tiffany grabbed the glass of water and began to drink, downing the glass in one, mouthful after mouthful as she felt the cool liquid begin to soothe her throat, re-invigorating her as she swallowed. Blinking again, she looked to the window. The skyline beyond the pane of glass unfamiliar. It was also incredibly high up. Suddenly, a memory came flooding back as Tiffany attempted to piece together the night before. Splintered titbits returning as she remembered walking on past Hangar 32 and towards the wine bars a few blocks on. She had been left enraged by the events at the facility, furious in fact with the way her meeting with Karen Barclay had panned out, not to mention the altercation with Mike Norris. As she returned to the city she had felt something inside her rear its head, the need to satisfy a craving she had long considered herself to have under control as she prowled the swanky establishments in search of entertainment for the night. Or to give it its proper name, a victim. Turning to her side and laying her head back upon the soft pillow of what she assumed to be a hotel room, Tiffany did a double take, the body laying by her side soaked in blood as the lifeless eyes of her new friend stared back at her, Tiffany giving a small sigh as she took in the image before her. Numerous lacerations marked the corpse, restrained around the wrists and ankles by a series of belts and hotel towels. The man's mouth was packed with Tiffany's underwear as he continued to stare, the panic and fear still visible. Now she remembered. She had fallen upon this guy as she waited to be served a drink, a quick change on the rear seat of the Plymouth after rooting through the contents of her holdall, rendering her remarkably attractive as he coolly slid onto the bar stool by her side, introducing himself as Paul and offered to buy her a drink. First appearances were something Tiffany had been raised to notice. So it was no effort for her to gauge the kind of man she was dealing with. Slicked back hair, expensive suit, the cleanest pair of brogues and a white band around his wedding finger indicating a ring to have only recently been removed. They'd chatted for a while, Paul regaling her with stories of his life, accidentally forgetting to mention the wife no doubt left at home as he began his charm offensive, unaware of the kind of party Tiffany had in mind as her rage gently simmered. A few drinks later and Paul placed a hand on Tiffany's bare thigh, massaging gently as he let his hand wander to the bottom of her skirt, Tiffany gently pushing him away as she asked for another drink, all the while plotting a return to the good old days. Her plans hadn't been in vein. Nor was the act tainted with disappointment, an anti-climax so to speak. No, Tiffany had felt a fire erupt as she helped a drunken Paul remove his clothes, holding him off as best she could, insisting they do something a little more exciting. Pushing him to the bed, his eyes had lit up like the fourth of July as Tiffany began to secure his wrists, bending at the waist and giving Paul full view down her cleavage as she leaned across the bed and wrapped his belt around his wrists, the leather cutting in slightly as she pulled it tight. Towels from the bathroom were used on the ankles. Soft, blossoming white and deceptively difficult to tie as Tiffany finally felt the makeshift shackles and found herself satisfied with her work. Lying naked on the bed, erection on full view, Paul had began to get excited as Tiffany removed her clothes, peeling away her blouse and unhooking the clasp of her bra as she allowed her skirt to fall to the floor. To many this may have seemed overkill. But Tiffany knew from experience that a naked body would ensure clean clothes and also serve to get Paul's pulse racing. The blood tearing through his system as the pressure built up. The higher the better for what Tiffany had planned. Standing in front of her victim, now dressed in only her underwear and a pair of heels, Tiffany had approached him and asked if he was ready to play, the frantic nodding indicating it to be time as Tiffany removed her underwear and told Paul to open his mouth, stuffing the material in with one hand, compacting the material into a dense ball of fabric as she cradled his chin with the other. Then, standing upright and turning her back on her victim, Tiffany took a few short steps towards her handbag, resting in the chair across the room. Hips swinging as she walked in her heels, her naked bum rocking erotically from side to side, Tiffany reached for her handbag and gave a small chuckle as she slurred her words ever so slightly.

"Would you like to meet my friend?" She asked with a seductive smile.

Paul's eyes looked on in sheer delight as he imagined exactly what the beautiful woman before him meant, the colour instantly draining from his face as Tiffany turned. The knife clenched firmly in her fist. He'd tried to scream, of course, but found it useless. The garment wedged between his teeth holding strong as Tiffany turned on the stereo sitting on the table beside the chair and found a radio station, raising the volume to achieve an ambience that would mask any potential cries for help. Thrashing across the mattress, Paul had no chance as the makeshift shackles gripped tight and restrained each limb impeccably. Casting a drunken laugh skywards Tiffany now approached the bed, knife high above her head, gripped tightly in both hands as she bit her lip and gave her victim a mischievous smile and brought the knife slicing through the air. The pain looked unbearable as Paul cried out as best he could, blood squirting from an artery hidden deep beneath the skin of his neck and spraying over Tiffany as she lifted the knife from the wound and struck once more, an almost orgasmic feeling taking over as she felt the rush of pleasure, the excitement almost sexual, giving her goose bumps as her smile slowly mutated into a determined grimace. Faster, harder, each slash of the knife caused yet another laceration, deeper and wider as blood began to spew from each and every cut, Paul's eyes glassing over quickly as his cries dwindled to a low whimper, his attempts to break free dying in frequency and effort as his body eventually became still. Before long Tiffany found herself lashing at nothing but open wounds and exposed muscle, blood now beginning to dry on the clear white bedding as her grunts grew louder, the knife slipping in her hands, blood soaking into her fingers as she frantically hacked away, snarling through gritted teeth as she unleashed years of pent up aggression. As the euphoria slowly subsided, Tiffany's attacks gradually slowed before eventually coming to a complete stop as she took a breathless step back to admire her work. Blood now lay across the carpet of the hotel room as it spilled from the edge of the bed, soaking over the tip of her heels and working in between her toes as she surveyed the mess before her. Catching her breath, her naked, ample breasts lifting in rhythm, she took shallow intakes at first, eventually turning to deep, refreshing lungfuls, Tiffany lifted her arms and ran her eyes from the tips of her fingers to her shoulders, the blood quickly drying and becoming sticky under touch. Now, looking down her bloody, naked body, across her bare stomach and down the length of her legs, finally finishing on her toes Tiffany looked at the mess she had made of herself and gave a little giggle as she lifted a lone, solitary finger to her lips and placed it inside her mouth, seductively sucking as she withdrew her digit, the blood no longer staining her skin.

"Just like the good old days." She whispered to herself as the radio continued to play along in the background. She wasn't sure if it was the drinks, or maybe the occasion making her light headed, but she needed a lie down. Tomorrow would most definitely be a busy day. Right now though, Tiffany stepped over the expanding pool of blood surrounding the bed and headed to the bathroom, her heels leaving a small set of bloody foot prints as she walked. She needed to clean herself up.

Now as she lay on the bed, the sunlight blasting across the Chicago skyline and into the hotel room, Tiffany felt her head pound. A throbbing pain as the pressure built and she fought off the hangover as best she could. Sitting up and taking a deep breath she yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the corpse beside her laying still as she looked up and down the length of Paul's body. Blood completely covered the far side of the bed, the floor also turning a dark brown as it dripped from the bed sheets and dried into the coarse fibres of the carpet. Suddenly a loud knock came from the hotel door, Tiffany lifting her head in shock as a voice called from the other side.

"Housekeeping." The voice politely sang, Tiffany forced into action as a key slowly scraped it's way into the lock positioned on the door handle. Jumping to her feet, the key now turning, Tiffany bolted across the room as the handle twisted and the door slowly began to open, the maid's face suddenly beginning to gradually appear through the ever growing crack. Throwing the weight of her body against the door of the hotel room, Tiffany slammed it shut as the maid recoiled in shock, a splutter of surprise from the corridor outside as Tiffany grabbed the door handle with one hand and turned the lock with her other.

"Not right now, thank you." She cooed, the tone of the maid's muffled response indicating her displeasure, Tiffany now watching through the peep hole as the maid returned to her cart and gave the door a filthy look before moving onto the next room. Spinning and leaning back against the door, Tiffany breathed a sigh of relief, a clump of dark hair blown from her face as she tried to calm her heartbeat, the blood pumping and making her visibly shake. The room was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor and accompanying furniture, bottles of alcohol littered every surface, then there was the incredibly small and trivial matter of the body on the bed, the scene making Tiffany feel sick as she realised the mess she had made. The blood had dried across Paul's side of the bed, over spilling and seeping into the carpet. The once sticky and viscous liquid had now hardened and stained the surrounding area. Examining Paul's body, Tiffany found his torso had been completely ripped to shreds. Puncture wounds and wide, deep lacerations covering almost every square inch. His throat had been cut so bad Tiffany could see his windpipe, the influx of blood allowing his already failing lungs to fill quickly, drowning the poor man in his own blood. It looked bad, and after the things Tiffany had seen, the things she had done, she realised now that this was amongst the worst, if not top of the bill. Crossing the carpet, taking care not to tread in the wet patches, Tiffany raced to the window of the room, casting her gaze across the city as she tried to get her bearings. The height led her to believe that she was roughly twenty five, maybe thirty, stories up, the people below resembling ants as they dodged the traffic and went about their business. The problem Tiffany faced right now was getting out of here, and quickly. Turning and grabbing her blouse and skirt from the chair beneath the window, she began to dress. Buttoning her blouse, she crossed to the foot of the bed and slipped her feet into the heels, tying the straps around her ankles before sliding her legs, one by one, through the skirt and fastening the clasp. Without a shred of remorse, Tiffany then daintily stepped up to Paul's side of the bed and reached her fingers into his mouth, withdrawing her underwear as a sigh escaped the lifeless body. Sliding her underwear up over her legs and into a comfortable position, Tiffany then crossed the room and dropped to her knees, one last task as she lifted Paul's trousers and began to feel through the pockets, grinning as she retrieved a thick, leather wallet, the wad of notes within quickly transferred to her purse. Standing, Tiffany took one last look around the room and made sure there was nothing incriminating. No evidence that could point the eventual police investigation in her direction. Satisfied, Tiffany pulled a pair of oversized shades from her handbag, slipping them on before heading to the door and taking a second to calm herself.

"Here goes nothing." She whispered as she yanked open the door of room 2856 and stepped into the beautifully decorated corridor, another memory of the night before suddenly returning as she lifted her hand at the last moment, shielding her face from the camera positioned dead centre of the ceiling. The plush blue carpet beneath her feet felt flat in comparison to the carpet of the room, the amount of traffic up and down no doubt shortening the lifespan as Tiffany found herself pondering the average lifespan of a hotel corridor carpet, anything to keep her mind busy as she headed to the elevator and tried to remain calm. Reaching the doors and slamming her palm into the call button, Tiffany took a look up and down the corridor, face still obscured from view as she stood and willed the elevator on, wishing for it to hurry up as she found herself muttering under her breath.

"Come on, come on." She said, the brightness of the numbers above the elevator door shining through her shades as she watched the numbers climb, curious to know exactly just how high up she had ended.

25...

26...

27...

Finally the digits stopped as the counter reached twenty eight, a loud 'bing' as the doors to the extremely spacious elevator slid open with a hum, the rollers allowing the doors to glide effortlessly apart and welcome Tiffany. Inside, the wall to wall mirrors gave her ample opportunity to check her reflection, almost limitless angles as she turned and gave herself a quick once over, the doors closing quietly behind her. Spotting something amiss and cursing, Tiffany zipped open her handbag and reached inside, pulling a hanky from within before spitting on it and rubbing vigorously behind her right elbow, the large blood stain, previously going unnoticed, disappearing a little with every rub. Feeling the familiar weightlessness of the elevators descent, she made sure to check as thoroughly as she could, finding no more stains either on her person or her attire. Happy, she could only stand and wait, watching once again as the floors ticked down, giving Tiffany time to plan her escape from the hotel. The intention was to get downstairs and leave as quickly as possible. No distractions, no commotion, nothing. It was in this moment that Tiffany began to wish she'd brought a change of clothes, her holdall still resting in the trunk of the Plymouth parked three blocks east of the wine bar she had ended up meeting Paul in. But, she had no choice now, the only option being to make her way back to her car and prepare for the day ahead. She had a plan. Jesus, of course she had a plan. Execution however depended on how prepared she was and how much she knew. Sarah Pirce number four was out there, but where? Suddenly the elevator jerked to a stop, the doors opening with the same sickening 'bing' and opening into the vast lobby of the hotel. White marble graced the floor, the odd ripple of grey lending it a textured appearance as it spread across the lobby and worked its way up the front of the concierge, the thick marble counter hiding a trio of bodies, all casting their eyes in Tiffany's direction as the elevator opened up, the name 'Regency Hotel' sat proudly above their heads. The two women, hands full of paperwork, instantly returned to their duties, filing the papers as one answered the phone sat behind the counter. The third person, a large, balding gentleman in a suit, kept his eyes on Tiffany as she took a deep breath and stepped from the elevator, her heels once again striking the thick marble floor and sending a loud 'click' echoing across the lobby, the noise seeming to rise above the ambient hum of the various clientèle all chatting and passing through. As she walked on, towards the exit, Tiffany turned in the man's direction and tilted her head forward, lifting a lone hand and pulling her shades to the tip of her nose as she raised her eyes and fixed him a stare of her own. 'I'm watching you, watching me.' She silently said, by now figuring the portly gentleman to be management of some description, all the while feeling unsettled as he ran his eyes up and down her body, returning to her face as Tiffany pushed her shades back up her nose and turned to focus on the exit, an idea striking her as she noticed the pay phones by the revolving door of the establishment. Deciding to play it cool, not race from the scene like there was any problem, Tiffany changed direction slightly and approached the row of pay phones, delighted to see the familiar binding of a White Pages placed gently beneath each booth. Giving her head a little flick and throwing the dark hair from her eyes, Tiffany reached below the phone and grabbed the book, opening to roughly the region of her desired page, such was her experience. Flipping a few more pages over, Tiffany then ran her finger down the list of names and smiled, taking a second to quickly look around before tearing the bottom half of the page from the book and folding it, placing it in her handbag before replacing the thick, heavy book beneath the phone. Confident she had gone unnoticed Tiffany calmly lifted her head and proceeded to the exit, the revolving door spinning as guests and visitors entered and exited the hotel lobby, one after another.

'Sarah Pirce number four, come on down.' She thought with a smile as she reached the door, blissfully unaware of the camera positioned above.

Returning to room 2856, Linda Ford allowed her trolley to roll to a stop. The floor beneath gently helping as the wheels found themselves embedded in the plush carpet of the corridor. Removing a ring of keys from the buckle around her waist, Linda eyed the door to the room carefully, the memory of her last attempt to gain entrance still harshly burned in her mind as she approached the door with a fresh outburst of pessimism, all five feet and four inches of her petite frame tensed like coiled spring, prepared for another confrontation.

"Housekeeping." She softly spoke, a gentle rap on the door accompanying her call.

No answer...

Checking the door handle, making doubly sure to find no 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging free, Linda paused for a few seconds before leaning in, face inches from the door and trying once more.

"Housekeeping!" Her voice slightly louder, she once again knocked upon the door, more aggressive this time as the sound of the impact caused a passing couple to divert attention from their current conversation.

Still no answer...

Throwing caution to the wind, the room sat before her, the last of her shift, Linda grasped the handle and lifted her ring, the numerous keys jangling as she inserted the correct one into the lock and twisted slowly, pushing the handle down.

"Hope you're decent honey." She sighed to herself as she pushed the door open slowly and poked her head into the room gradually. With her field of vision heavily obscured by the door, Linda called out one final time, the silence that met her call finally confirming the room to be empty.

"Anybody in?" She asked, reaching back and grabbing her trolley with her free hand, the other still clamped on the door handle as she finally pushed it all the way open, stepping into the room and finding herself horrified by the view that now met her eyes. The body lay motionless on the bed, the covers pulled back and allowing the now dry blood to soak into the mattress and the sheets above. Laying completely naked, the body had been bound at the wrists and ankles, the upper half completely saturated, the blood staining the flesh which had been mutilated, slash marks deep enough to expose internal organs, arteries and bone, such was the severity of the marks. Before she could move, before she could think, Linda's first reaction was an involuntary one. An instantaneous reaction as her lips parted and her lungs let fly with an earth shattering scream, loud enough to bring fellow guests from their rooms as she continued to scream over and over, adrenaline flowing but soon subsiding as she felt her legs begin to weaken. A tremble began to spread throughout her body as she took another step toward the corpse before her, gingerly reaching for the phone beside the bed, tears beginning to flow as she started to sob uncontrollably. Unable to take her eyes from the scene, she found herself fighting the urge to vomit as she noticed the neck of the victim. Cut so deep the wind pipe was exposed, the chunk missing from the neck now hanging loosely as blood coagulated around the area, the volume of blood causing it to dry slower than other areas, the blood still sticky, tacky to the touch. As Linda lifted the phone to her ear she heard the familiar sound, the ring tone to reception as a voice calmly answered.

"Front desk." The voice politely chimed.

"P... Police." Linda stuttered.

"I'm sorry?" The voice asked puzzled.

"The police!" Linda repeated herself. "Get the police now!"

Replacing the phone in the cradle, Linda turned to find the doorway to room 2856 had attracted a barrage of attention. Neighbouring guests all craning to get a better view, jostling for position as they observed in a stony silence, only the occasional gasp of surprise filing the air. Turning back to the body and clapping her hands together in prayer, Linda felt tears roll over her cheeks as a pocket of air emerged from the windpipe of the body and allowed a viscous bubble of semi-congealed blood to burst,, splattering across Linda's face as a collective sigh of disgust sounded from behind.

Lifting her bare arm and observing her watch, Officer Gloria Esposito checked the time once more as she paced across the marble floor of the Regency Hotel. Back and forth. Over and over. Hardly a sound as her shoes scuffed the surface of the gleaming floor. Cursing under her breath, the enormity of the situation never seeming to rescind, Gloria checked her watch once more, stopping on the spot as she took a look across the lobby and found life passing by as normal.

'If only they knew.' She found herself thinking as she span on the spot and continued to march the width of the lobby, the doors to the elevators before her masked in generous amounts of tape. Blue and white, baring the words 'Police Line – Do Not Cross'. The message was incredibly simple. No entry. The official line had been simply that there had been an incident on the twenty eighth floor, all guests diverted to the stairwell across the way, no further explanation as the police worked their hardest to survey the scene. The twenty eighth floor had also been cordoned off at the entrance from the stairwell, another officer stationed to make sure the scene remained undisturbed as Officer Esposito awaited her backup, a weight lifted from her shoulders as suddenly the revolving door to the hotel turned at pace and Officer Harold Wan entered the building. Although not as experienced as some, Gloria couldn't have wished for anybody better. She had come through the academy with Harold three years previous and already knew he would deal with a situation like this better than most. Top of the class and supremely confident in his own abilities, Harold had been labelled 'cocky' by some. Gloria knew this to be untrue though. The margin was narrow, but Harold had never strayed across that line, and he was damned if he was going to let the opinions of a handful stop him from working to his full potential. Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Gloria's thick hispanic lips parted in a beaming grin as a spiral of jet black hair hung from beneath the visor of her Chicago P.D hat.

"I ask for backup and they send me Columbo?" She laughed as Harold came to a stop before her, his smile enough to instantly put her at ease.

"Officially I'm on my way downtown." He replied with a small laugh.

"Oh?" Gloria asked curiously.

"Don't ask." Harold removed his hat and wiped his brow, returning the hat as he sighed deeply. "The Captain has me working on... Something special."

"Sounds very hush-hush." Gloria said, hands still locked to her hips.

"You wouldn't believe." Harold replied, turning to the elevators and noticing the strands of tape blocking the doors. "We're going up then?"

"I guess so." Gloria nodded, suddenly remembering Harold's words. "You're not my backup then?"

"Nope." Harold shook his head and started to walk towards the elevator, hitting the call button and finding the doors open instantly. Lifting a strip of tape, he then gestured for his friend to step inside watching as she ducked into the mirrored interior and following suit. "I figure they'll be another ten minutes, at least."

"Then what are you doing here?" Gloria asked as she pressed the button for the twenty eighth floor, the numbers lighting up and the doors sliding closed, the slight feeling of nausea hitting the two of them as the elevator started to ascend.

"I know what you're like around things like this and was passing by." Harold laughed.

"Things like this?" Gloria asked as she playfully punched Harold in the shoulder. "Meaning?"

"Remember the first fatality we did after the academy?" Harold continued, admiring his uniform in the mirror and brushing a hair from his chest. "I've never seen somebody go white that fast."

"Well..." Gloria exhaled, leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator as she stared vacantly at the floor. "Some things you never get used to I guess. Thought I was over it. But this..."

"Bad?" Harold asked, sensing his friend beginning to tail off.

"You can say that again." Gloria nodded. "Never seen anything quite like it myself."

"This body." Harold turned to her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "We can rule out suicide?"

"Harold," Gloria laughed nervously. "If this is a suicide then this guy was one hell of a contortionist."

"Meaning?" Harold asked.

"You'll see." Gloria answered as the lift began to slow, the small jolt felt by both her and Officer Wan as the doors slowly slid open, another wall of tape greeting the two officers as they ducked beneath the sticky, plastic strips and stepped into the corridors of the twenty eighth floor. From where they stood, Harold could see their destination clearly, the blues and whites of even more police tape indicating the crime scene beyond the threshold of room 2856, the remaining doors lining the corridor all closed tightly, the floor sealed off from the public.

"The other rooms unoccupied?" He asked as they walked, Officer Esposito nodding as she answered.

"The guests are downstairs. We need to question them. Then I guess some will be moved to other floors, some shipped over to a sister hotel. There aren't enough rooms for all of them."

"No witnesses then?" Harold continued, the room coming up quickly.

"Not that I'm aware of. All we have is a brief statement from the maid that discovered the body." Gloria replied. "Our killer was in and out. No commotion."

"I see." Officer Wan sighed as they reached the door to room 2856, turning the corner and ripping the tape from the frame of the door, instantly recoiling in a mixture of shock and horror at the sight that awaited.

"Told you." Gloria smiled half-heartedly.

"Jesus." Harold stepped forward, a look of pure repulsion spread across his face, the cold and now stiffened body laying exposed before his very eyes. "What a mess."

"I know." Gloria nodded in agreement as she stepped beside him and examined the scene once again.

"Who did you say found him?" Harold found himself asking involuntarily, stepping up to the body and leaning over.

"One of the maids." Gloria replied. "Just over an hour ago."

"Jesus." Harold gasped almost lost for words.

"I know." Gloria said. "Shook her up pretty badly."

"Those cuts are deep. Look." Harold lifted a finger and pointed. First to the neck, then to a wound around the chest area. "You can see right to the bone. My lord."

"I estimate he's been like this for at least ten hours." Gloria mused, pointing and drawing attention to the torso. "The blood's completely dry. Almost flaking."

"Look at the face though." Harold replied, a touch of discomfort to his tone. "You can still see the fear. Whoever did this certainly knew what they were doing."

"Meaning?" Gloria asked, folding her arms across her chest as she turned to her colleague seeking enlightenment.

"Well let's start at the beginning." Harold lifted his hands, fingers outstretched as he spoke. "This was premeditated. No doubt about it."

"Go on..." Gloria allowed him to continue.

"Let's assume our suspect is a female." Harold suggested, Gloria interrupting.

"You'd assume right. The maid that discovered the body said she tried to enter the room an hour beforehand but was stopped. A female voice told her to come back later."

"No wonder." Harold laughed. "Okay, so she gets her man up here. No struggle, whatsoever. He then allows her to restrain him. Now what do you think the intentions were? On his part anyway."

"Sex." Gloria replied instantly. "I would have thought that was obvious."

"It is." Harold carried on. "Now the first question is this. Did he check in alone? Was he with a spouse? Partner?"

"Records show the room was booked under the name Paul Swanson." Gloria answered. "Single booking for three nights. The room was charged to a company called Barnes Pharmaceuticals."

"Okay." Harold sighed. "Now let's assume Mr Swanson either goes out with the intention of engaging in sexual activity, or is approached with a promise of such. They come back to his room, she ties him up, then WHAM!" Harold brought his hands together, Gloria jumping at the noise.

"Affair gone wrong?" Gloria reasoned. "Spurned lover kicked into touch before the wife found out? Lured him up here for one last night of passion?"

"Bit extreme don't you think?" Harold answered. "Usually they threaten to tell the wife. Extort some money. Then eventually move on."

"Disgruntled hooker then?" Gloria asked.

"Hookers usually have somebody else deal with their problems." Harold answered.

"Pimps?" Gloria asked, Harold replying with a gentle nod of the head.

"Know what I think?" Harold narrowed his eyes as he continued to observe the corpse, Gloria's silence enough for him to continue. "I think that maybe, just maybe, Mr Swanson was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I don't follow." Gloria said. "You mean this could have happened to anybody?"

"Exactly." Harold smiled.

"But I thought you said it was premeditated."

"The act yes." Harold lifted his hand and cradled his chin, turning to the body of the late Paul Swanson. "The victim, I'm willing to guess, was picked at random."

"Shit." Gloria gasped. "Poor guy."

"We need to see the CCTV footage." Harold said as he stood up straight, his eyes still fixed on Paul Swanson's rigid, blood stained corpse. "Round up anybody working the lobby and reception last night. Bell boys, receptionists, management. Find out what time Mr Swanson returned from his night out, more importantly where he'd been. Then search the footage and see what we can find out from that."

"Can do." Gloria nodded, turning and acknowledging the forensics team as they slowly began to filter through the doorway from the corridor outside.

"Whoever did this." Harold said. "Is on that footage."

A short stroll along the corridor and back toward the elevator soon found Officers Harold Wan and Gloria Esposito beginning their descent to the lobby of the Regency hotel. A small chime from the elevator found the doors slowly sliding apart as the officers once again ducked beneath the police tape and approached the front desk. The girl working the desk smiled as she turned and found her two guests waiting, the myriad of questions going unanswered as she pointed them in the direction of the manager's office behind the reception. Giving the door a solid knock, Harold and Gloria waited patiently as a phone call came to an end inside, the muffled voice dying quickly and the door swinging open as they found themselves greeted by a small, rather round gentleman, his shining bald head and immaculately groomed moustache his most distinguishing features as he welcomed them into his office, stepping back and gesturing with an outstretched arm towards two vacant seats sat across his desk. Taking their seats, the officers removed their hats and placed them on the surface of the desk, Harold taking the lead as they sought answers to their questions.

"Understand you had some morning here." Harold smiled calmly.

"You can say that again." The manager sat back and exhaled. "Head office are going out of their minds over this."

"You have any idea of Mr Swanson's whereabouts last night?" Gloria asked.

"Not really." The manager replied a sigh. "Mr Swanson's been coming here for the past three years. Business, you know? Kept himself to himself. Of course it's not for me to cast aspersions, but I did tend to notice Mr Swanson's wedding ring would go missing almost every visit."

"Did you know Mr Swanson to entertain in his room?" Harold asked. "Often I mean?"

"Look," The manager began. "I don't want to talk ill of the dead. But Mr Swanson liked his women. It wasn't unusual to see him return at midnight, maybe later with a different woman to the night before."

"And what type of women were these?" Gloria asked inquisitively.

"Oh don't get me wrong." The manager said. "They weren't 'those' type of women. As far as I could tell. No, the women he usually, 'entertained' as you put it, were as sophisticated as he."

"Did you or any of your staff happen to see Mr Swanson return from his evening out last night?" Harold asked, the manager exhaling and lifting his brow as he thought.

"That would depend entirely on whether or not anybody was working the desk as Mr Swanson returned. Sometimes the night shift catch up on anything the day shift may have missed. With it being quiet and all."

"How about CCTV?" Gloria asked.

"What about it?" The manager replied.

"Do you have it in reception?" Harold quickly interrupted.

"We have it all over the place." The manager nodded with a laugh, his shiny cranium reflecting the light above him. "Service entrances, the lobby, the corridors."

"We need access to the footage." Harold stated as he stood, hat in hands. "You have a security office where my colleague and I can check?"

"Yes." The manager stood also, his rotund stomach standing proud as he removed a key from his pocket. "Follow me."

Step followed step, the huge underground maze of corridors beneath the Regency Hotel seeming tangled enough to swallow entire platoons of men whole as the labyrinth expanded more and more with each twist and turn, the service elevator that had led the trio into the basement now nothing but a memory as Harold and Gloria marched on behind the stout figure of the Regency's manager. Without saying a word, the three came to a stop at a door, the sign above indicating they had reached their destination, the words 'Security Office's emblazoned above. Sliding the key from his pocket and into the lock, the manager twisted his wrist and felt the latch release, gripping the door handle and opening as he reached his arm around the corner, throwing the room into light with the flick of a switch. Rows and rows of monitors blared out silently as the two Chicago Police officers took in the view before them. The grainy, black and white footage rolled in as life carried on above, the various feeds from each and every camera all leading back to the tiny room.

"I'm guessing," The manager started as he paced the width of the room, past the security desk and towards a steel cabinet. "That Mr Swanson returned after midnight."

"Meaning what?" Harold asked, hat clasped firmly in his hands as he let his eyes wander over every inch of the room, his colleague Gloria Esposito remaining silently by his side.

"Meaning," The manager replied as he pulled open the cabinet and began searching through a row of VHS cassettes. "That if I'm correct, then we should have him on this very tape."

Turning to the two officers, a cassette gripped tightly in his fist, the manager approached the security desk and pulled back the chair parked beneath, slumping to a sitting position as Gloria and Harold stepped up behind.

"And who said chivalry was dead?" Gloria stared into the back of the manager's head and muttered under her breath, Harold fighting back a small fit of laughter as his lips pursed into a smile.

"This is from midnight up to six this morning." The manager explained as he slid the cassette into the player and pressed play, the black screen suddenly bursting into life as footage of the lobby began to play, the time stamped in the bottom right of the screen showing it to be little after midnight.

"You mean we have six hours of footage?" Harold asked. "Surely there must be a quicker way."

"Hang on." The manager lifted a hand, his other hand working the cassette player as he located a fast forward button. Instantly the footage became blurred. Lines appearing through the middle of the screen as the footage increased in speed, a couple suddenly crossing the lobby at a blistering rate.

"Wait!" Harold said. "Back it up."

Rewinding the footage, the couple reversed across the screen as the manager stopped the reverse function and pressed play. All eyes were now trained on the footage as the seconds ticked by in the bottom of the screen, the couple now emerging through the revolving door and into the lobby, arms linked as they strolled casually towards the elevator. The man seemed to be walking fairly steady as they crossed the marble floor. The woman meanwhile appeared to lose her footing once or twice, her heels slipping from beneath her as they finally approached the elevator and waited patiently the man's arms all over his guest as they kissed. The woman appeared to be dressed in a white and black combination. A skirt and blouse at first glance. Her hair dark and constantly swept from her face throughout the duration of their screen time. The man seemed to be wearing a suit of some description, his appearance coming across as more sophisticated than his companion, despite the shocking quality of the footage.

"That our guy?" Harold asked, lifting his hand and jamming a finger into the screen as he leant over the manager's shoulder.

"Yes." The manager nodded, as on screen the elevator doors slid open and the couple disappeared inside. "It would appear so."

Without saying another word, the manager stood and raced back to cassette cabinet, reaching in and pulling free another cassette. Hurriedly, he returned to his seat and ejected the cassette, inserting the new one in a quick and seamless motion.

"What's that?" Gloria asked as another area of the hotel came into view, a corridor, the manager now fast forwarding the footage instantly.

"This is the corridor from the twenty eighth floor." He replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. "If we time it right..."

Releasing the button and allowing the footage to resume playing, the two officers watched on as the couple from the lobby now emerged from the bottom of the screen and made their way along the corridor. Stopping at a doorway, the two people kept themselves obscured from view as they canoodled and kissed in the corridor, disappearing suddenly as they entered the doorway and allowed it to slam closed behind them.

"As I thought." The manager said quietly as he ejected the cassette. "That was indeed Mr Swanson."

"You recognise him?" Harold asked.

"That was his room." The manager replied, his voice a whisper as his mind seemed elsewhere.

"Everything alright sir?" Gloria asked as she let her eyes leave the screen, noticing the manager to be deep in thought.

"That girl." He replied. "I've seen her. I'm sure of it."

"Where?" Gasped Harold, anticipation building, the case possibly resting on the manager's answer.

"Hang on." The manager lifted a solitary hand, working the rewind button with the other as the couple on screen reversed from room 2856 and into the corridor the manager pausing the footage as the couple stood still. "The lobby. This morning!"

"What time?" Gloria enquired, standing aside as the manager once again stood from the desk and raced to the rows of cassettes held within the cabinet. Looking left, right, up and down, the manager seemed at a loss, suddenly spinning from the cabinet and racing to the row of monitors gracing the opposite wall, each screen overhead streaming footage from the premises.

"Of course it's not in there, it's still recording." The manager laughed, pressing the eject button beneath the monitor labelled 'lobby'.

"She's on there?" Harold asked, willing the answer from the manager's lips.

"I'm positive." He replied as he once again sat at the desk and inserted the cassette, hitting rewind and allowing the tape to whizz backwards. "It was about nine thirty. Maybe quarter to ten. She was near the pay phones."

Slamming his hand into the buttons, the high pitched whirr emanating from the VHS player stopped instantly, the screen now lighting up as the manager pressed play and jogged the footage forward, eventually stopping as a lone woman, dark hair, white top and black skirt emerged from the elevator and into the lobby, the time marked clearly now in the bottom right corner of the screen, 9:37am.

"Looks like our girl." Gloria leant in and examined the screen, watching as the mysterious figure crossed the floor of the lobby, changing direction suddenly and heading towards the payphones. "Payphones, just like you said."

As the trio watched on, the woman approached the bank of payphones and came to a stop, lifting a book from beneath and opening it up.

"What's that?" Harold asked. "White Pages?"

"They're all over the place these days." The manager muttered, engrossed in the scene playing out on screen.

As the officers, along with the Regency's manager, watched on, they observed in a stony silence as the unknown female took a look around the lobby and replaced the book beneath the payphone, calmly striding towards the revolving door and straight beneath the camera, Harold almost riding the manager's back as he took control of the console and pressed pause, the footage once more freezing as the woman passed beneath the camera. The frozen image, stuttering as the player struggled to keep the cassette from moving, hung on screen as Harold narrowed his eyes.

"That's our best view of her." He said, Gloria joining him as she leaned in beside.

"Agreed."

"She looks awfully familiar for some reason." Harold whispered to himself, Gloria tilting her head in an inquisitive manner.

"Lots of dark haired women in Chicago Harold." Gloria stifled a chuckle as she spoke.

"She really does." Harold answered. "But that's not what's bothering me."

"Then what 'is' bothering you?" She asked.

"Why didn't she make a phone call?"

The room hung in an awkward silence as Harold and Gloria allowed their eyes to return to the screen, the manager suddenly breaking the silence.

"She tore a page out." He said nonchalantly.

"What?" Harold gasped. "Where?"

"You can't see it there, but I remember watching her do it." The manager growled. "Really boils my piss when people do that."

Suddenly a spark ignited in Harold's mind, the pieces seeming to lay in place as a puzzle unfolded before him and he felt a fear creep over him. The familiar woman, the death in room 2856 and now the page torn from the book beneath the pay phone.

"We need to see which page she took." Harold said, colour draining from his face, a look of fear developing quickly.

"Does it matter?" Gloria asked.

"I think it does." Harold softly spoke, a nod accompanying his words. "Let's just hope I'm wrong."

A swift race back through the underground maze of the Regency Hotel's service area eventually brought the officers back to the service elevator, the pace slowed greatly by the reliance on the round figure of the Regency's manager leading Harold and Gloria back through the labyrinth and to their destination, the doors laying open as all three hurried inside and pressed the button for the ground floor. Within seconds the trio reached the lobby, the two officers quickly marching to avoid attracting any unwanted attention as the manager struggled to keep up. Reaching the row of payphones Harold reached beneath the first on offer and retrieved the White Pages, flicking through the pages in no time, eyes working frantically as he kept a look out for a missing page, briefly seeing it whizz past and stopping. Working back, page by page he eventually landed on the page in question, part of it ripped from the spine in a hurry earlier that morning, Harold's body filling with terror as he noticed the names the page would offer were it intact, the name S. Pirce being one of them. Closing his eyes and addressing Gloria, Harold's words were barely audible above the ambience of the lobby, the importance however still resonating in his tone.

"Somebody better call Captain Senior."

Standing beside the corpse of the late Paul Swanson, Officer Gloria Esposito felt a shudder as she observed the forensics team. Multiple items sat labelled, each individual piece given its own unique number before being carefully bagged and tagged by a member of the team. The white overalls and bright blue rubber gloves reminded Gloria of a science fiction film she had seen as a child, the sterile atmosphere recreated right now before her very eyes as she watched another of the forensics team place a pair of slim, needle-nosed plyers into Paul's mouth and fished something small from within.

"Interesting." The heavily disguised man stared from behind his dust mask as he lifted the plyers and narrowed his eyes.

"What is?" Gloria asked, catching the man off guard as he turned in surprise.

"Looks like fabric." He answered. "Can't be sure, but maybe nylon."

"She gagged him?" Gloria exhaled. "Makes sense. Keep the noise to a minimum."

"Looks like it. Although usually with a gagging we'd expect to see the fabric running between the gaps in the teeth."

"What do you mean?"

"This was in the roof of the mouth, a little more towards the back of the throat." The forensics member explained. "Whatever this material came from, I'd hazard a guess it was rolled up. Real tight too."

"You don't say." Gloria raised her eyebrows in a pleasantly surprised manner.

"We'll know more when were get it back to the lab." He continued, throwing open a plastic evidence bag and dropping the tiny piece of fabric inside. Without warning, the quiet, eerily silent ambience of room 2856 burst into life as the familiar, booming voice of Captain Reginald Senior hollered out across the room.

"Esposito!" He called as he stepped into the room, the blood soaked corpse completely ignored as his eyes scanned the handful of people within.

"Sir." Gloria turned, startled.

"What do we have here then?" The Captain asked as he craned his neck to finally observe the body, taking a look before returning his gaze to the young officer before him.

"Male, early forties, time of death estimated to be around one thirty this morning from multiple lacerations to the throat and chest, sir." Esposito answered, the Captain nodding silently as she spoke, allowing her to finish before turning and beckoning her to follow.

"Come with me." He said. More of a demand than a request. Gloria following on quickly as she left the room and entered the empty corridor of the twenty eighth floor, doubling her pace as she strode up beside the Captain, his voice now quieting as they walked together and approached the familiar elevator up ahead. "That was some good police work young lady."

"Thank you sir." Gloria breathed a sigh of relief.

"No need for formalities Gloria." Senior laughed, seeing the two of them were completely alone. "I've known you since before you could crawl. You think you're father would be happy with me letting you call me 'sir'?"

"I guess not Uncle Reginald." Gloria chuckled. He was right obviously. Her father, god rest his soul, picked a good person for godparent duties all those years ago, Reginald Senior and him going back years. Decades in fact. Reginald had been a rock as Gloria entered the police force. No favour she couldn't ask. No advice he wasn't prepared to dish out. She had seen a side to him that many others didn't even know existed, even now as he turned and addressed her once more.

"How are the boys?"

"They're good." She smiled, lifting a hand and sweeping a spiral of jet black hair from her face.

"And Derek?" Senior enquired.

"Don't mention that waste of space." Gloria's tone turned sour. "Still dodging alimony. Still avoiding his responsibilities."

"He's a good man." Reginald reasoned as they approached the elevator. "Give him time."

"I've given him plenty of time." She snapped, instantly regretting it. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Very well. Can I see the book?" Captain Senior asked, stopping as they reached the elevator and pressing the call button, the doors opening instantly.

"It's downstairs sir." Gloria replied, entering the elevator with Captain Senior and allowing him to press the button for the ground floor. The amount of times Gloria had done this small journey was nothing short of scandalous. "We have the manager's office set aside. Saves us moving things about and lowers the risk of losing anything that may be considered evidence."

"Good work." Senior smiled. "May I ask what made you put two and two together?"

"I was in the briefing sir." Gloria explained, negating to mention the presence of Officer Wan at Harold's own request, the elevator beginning it's descent. "I saw the photo-fit, knew our girl was working from a phone book. Guess it was more a hunch than anything."

"Well," Senior smiled. "Had I known you were so interested in our 'Phone Book Killer' then it would have made my next decision a lot easier."

"How you mean?" Gloria asked, intrigued.

"I'm pulling McCain from his current duties." Reginald began to explain. "Our witness from North Lakeshore Drive is being rehoused temporarily so I need somebody to assist him in his next assignment. You seem to be clued up, so how do you feel about joining him?"

"Whatever you think best Uncle Reginald." Gloria answered, attempting to remain calm.

"I'm not going to lie." He continued. "It's another round of 'babysitting'. But it's all experience."

"Definitely." Gloria replied. "I won't let you down. I promise."

"I know you won't kiddo." Reginald smiled, the elevator slowing before coming to a stop as the doors opened. "After we finish up here, get yourself off home. You can join up with McCain tonight."

"Thank you sir." Gloria smiled, stepping aside as she allowed the giant frame of her superior to exit the elevator, following into the lobby as the two of them marched across the floor. The lobby had grown busier as the day had gone on. Business types, families and the occasional party coming together to use one of the Regency's many suites. Now, approaching the front desk Gloria could see a queue had already formed. New guests checking in. Current guests checking out. Random guests from the twenty eighth floor. Some accepting the inevitable room change, others complaining and demanding a reduction in their bills. Gloria felt a sense of shame in humanity as she followed Captain Senior behind the counter, listening to the various arguments as the Captain knocked on the door to the manager's office. Did they know what had happened? Could they not understand that there were far more important things in life? Was life itself not enough? Suddenly, the door behind her opened, the small, rounded figure of the manager greeting the two of them as he welcomed them inside, Gloria waiting and following in Captain Senior's footsteps.

"Please." The manager smiled through his thick, bushy moustache, gesturing with one arm to the two empty seats, closing the door with the other as the office quickly fell silent. The barrage of noise from the front desk now drowned out by the thickness of the door. As Gloria and Captain Senior took their seats the manager hurriedly waddled around his desk and slumped to a sitting position before them. In the centre of the desk sat a solitary item. The White Pages from beneath pay phone number one, proudly taking pride of place in an otherwise uncluttered workspace as the manager pushed the book towards the Captain.

"This is it then?" Senior mused as he carefully opened the book and began to thumb through the pages, stopping as he neared the back.

"You can see the names missing from the page sir." Gloria pointed as he finally found the page. "Sarah Pirce being one of them."

"Indeed." Senior mumbled, deep in thought, taking a few seconds before looking up and addressing the manager of the Regency. "What can you tell us about our victim?"

"Nothing more than I already told you." The manager replied, slouching back in his chair and drumming the tips of his fingers upon the desk. "Mr Swanson's being coming here for years. Every few months he visits clients in Chicago. Always stays here. It was obvious he enjoyed company of the female persuasion too. Wasn't uncommon to see him head out for the night and not return until the early hours with a guest."

"Never the same woman?" Captain Senior asked.

"Never." The manager answered.

"Escorts?" Senior questioned again. "Prostitutes? Did Mr Swanson ever ask you to arrange anything like that?"

"No," The manager laughed nervously. "And even if he did, I wouldn't know..."

"Of course." Senior lifted a hand and interrupted. One thing Reginald Senior couldn't abide was a liar. Not that he suspected the Regency's manager knew anything else, but every hotel had numbers for escort agencies. More often than not they usually had contacts in the seedier, lower class end of the 'business' too. "Who found the body?"

"One of our maids." The manager replied. "She's in a right state. Gave her the rest of the day off."

"How very kind." Senior acknowledged with a slight nod of the head. "Nobody saw our victim return with his killer last night?"

"No." The manager shook his head as he spoke. "It was a quiet night. We usually run a skeleton crew as it is, and they spread themselves pretty thin."

"Sir," Gloria spoke up, the Captain turning to her as she continued. "All we have at the moment is CCTV footage and a statement from a guest in the adjoining room. Says that Mr Swanson returned late, which we already know. Also says he heard voices. Not for long though. The next thing he heard was music, which increased in volume. Almost called down to reception, but decided against it and managed to get back to sleep."

"I see." Captain Senior said, processing the information before returning his attention to the Regency's manager. "We have footage then?"

"We do." The manager answered with a smile, lifting a remote control from the desk and swivelling in his seat, exposing a TV set behind him as he lifted the remote and clicked a button as the TV set burst into life. "This is the two of them returning last night. Then her leaving in the morning. I had security record all the available footage onto one cassette for us."

"Good idea." Senior nodded. "Although we will need the originals."

"Understood." The manager smiled as he returned to the TV set and pressed another button on the remote gripped in his hand. Suddenly, an image of the lobby burst onto screen, the couple returning from a night out and approaching the elevator. Next, the camera changed. An overhead shot as the same couple emerged from the bottom of the screen and made their way along the corridor of the twenty eighth floor, stopping briefly at a door, canoodling as the man fumbled in his pocket and finally withdrew a key, the couple disappearing inside. The screen flickered as the image changed slightly. The same camera, and the same angle, but the time stamped in the bottom right corner indicating it to be early this morning as the woman emerged from the room alone, a hand held up to obscure her face as she walked.

"This is new!" Gloria snapped as she turned her attention to the manager.

"Security checked it out and put it in there." He replied. "Not much point if you ask me. She obviously knows the camera's there and covers her face."

"Looks like it." Gloria replied, turning her attention back to the screen. A burst of static and the lobby reappeared on screen, the high angle giving a remarkable view over the entire area, from the elevators, across the revolving doors and towards the pay phones as the woman now emerged from the elevator and approached the row of phones. Stopping and retrieving the White Pages from beneath the first phone, the trio sat and watched as, with back to the camera, the woman started to flick through the book, returning it to the shelf beneath the phone seconds later.

"That's when I saw her tear the page out." The manager said with a smile, the Captain choosing to ignore the remark as he continued watching, the woman turning and facing the camera head on as she began her walk to the revolving door, slipping through and into the vast city beyond.

"That's all we have?" Captain Senior asked, the manager and Officer Esposito nodding in unison.

"Very well." Senior sighed before addressing Esposito. "Officer Esposito, feel free to return to the precinct. Go home, get some rest and meet up with McCain later."

"Understood sir." Gloria stood, giving a nod to both her superior and the manager before pulling open the door to the office and heading into the lobby.

"Mr..." Captain Senior hesitated waiting for the manager to fill in the blanks.

"Boyce." He answered.

"Mr Boyce. Thank you for your continued assistance. I know this must be a very distressing time for you, your staff and also your guests. If I could ask that you please bear with us. Obviously the nature of these events mean that we have to conduct a thorough investigation. Your compliance and help will be noted, I can assure you."

"Not a problem." Mr Boyce smiled, excitement growing in his tone. "This phone book thing... You think this is the killer from the news?"

"Mr Boyce," Senior started, choosing to ignore the question for the time being. "May I have a moment alone? Also use your phone?"

"Anything you need just ask." Mr Boyce said as he stood sheepishly from his seat, giving the Captain a shake of the hand before leaving the office, the sound of the lobby erupting and then quickly dying as he did so. Standing from his own seat and making his way around the desk, Captain Senior grabbed the remote control and dropped into the manager's chair, hitting the rewind button and watching as his killer backtracked across the screen and towards the payphone. Lifting the remote and pressing a button, the image stuttered slightly before the action returned to normal, the footage resuming as the girl turned from the pay phones and began to approach the revolving door. Hitting the pause button, Captain Senior leaned forward in his chair and studied the image now held, juddering, on screen. He couldn't be entirely sure, but from his seat he noticed something he had missed the first time round as she faced the camera head on. The image was grainy to say the least, but Captain Senior was almost certain the girl was smiling. Cradling the remote in one of his strong, oversized hands, he narrowed his eyes and studied the image in more depth, his lips parting as he silently asked the question on everybody's lips.

"Who are you?"

"You really have to do that?" Officer Esposito jerked her head towards Officer McCain. The constant tapping of his pen on the steering wheel of the patrol car beginning to irritate a long time ago if she were to be honest. But now, almost half an hour later, she could stand no more. Lip pinched between his teeth, McCain ceased tapping and turned in the driver's seat, giving Esposito an innocent look. Crossword book gripped tightly against the centre of the steering wheel, he spoke quietly as the police frequency crackled over the radio, the stillness of the night only recently broken as the patter of rain began to creep across the windshield of the car.

"You always this friendly?" He asked with a smile before turning his attention back to the puzzle.

"Usually more so." Esposito answered, sinking back into the seat of the patrol car, the dull and quiet evening unfolding around them as they simply sat and waited. Observed to use a better word. Across the surprisingly empty street the house sat in the darkness. The only light coming from within as several rooms found themselves illuminated. Bathed in a glow of light as the home of one Sarah Joan Pirce sucked electricity from the grid, the light bulbs working frantically as the lone figure of the woman in question went about her business as best she could. Placed in one of Chicago's more upmarket suburban sectors, the street currently found itself devoid of life. Very little in the way of parked cars. No life on the streets. Hardly anybody home in the neighbouring properties as Gloria looked up and down, the staggered , detached houses and surrounding picket fences thrown into darkness, driveways empty indicating a lack of occupancy. To say Gloria had been expecting something a little more exciting would be an understatement given the fact that nothing of any interest whatsoever had taken place in the two hours both she and officer McCain had been parked up. McCain leaving the patrol car to empty his bladder into the bushes that ran along the side of the street to the cars left had literally been the only memorable moment Gloria could recall at that very second. The kid's playground on the other side probably not the best place to answer the sudden call of nature, not even with McCain's advanced years and unreliable plumbing taken into consideration.

"A lot of people seem to be out. It's quiet." Gloria said as she cast her eyes over the road and down the long, winding street, McCain answering without taking his eyes from his puzzle, the tip of his pen now taking pride of place between his teeth.

"Probably some late Halloween parties."

"It's the middle of November!" Gloria gasped in a mixture of shock and humour, leaning forward and beginning to wind down the passenger side window of the patrol car. Reaching beneath her seat with her other arm, she withdrew a pack of cigarettes and retrieved a solitary cigarette. Placing the filter between her lips, she then proceeded to pull a lighter from the pocket of her uniform, flicking the flint and cupping her hands around the white, nicotine laden stick as she sucked in a lungful of fumes and closed her eyes as she felt the hit. After a few seconds she released, exhaling a long, drawn out cloud of smoke in the direction of the open window of the car.

"Bad for you." McCain said, eyes still fixed to his puzzle as he suddenly jerked his pen from his mouth and began to scribble at pace, a clue finally clicking and providing the answer.

"So is that." Gloria lay her head back on the headrest and lifted her cigarette in the direction of McCain's coffee, sitting in the cup holder between the two seats. It had been public knowledge, for as long as Gloria could remember, that McCain would occasionally add a splash of the good stuff. A drop of blended whisky every now and then. Took the sting out of a cold, and more often than not, boring night. Random alcohol tests had been introduced years ago, but somehow, nobody knew how exactly, McCain had passed every one. The only thing Gloria could put it down to was somebody tipping McCain off at the right time. But what did he care anyway? He was nearing retirement age. Had his savings. His pension.

"Touché." McCain said with a small chuckle, pen drawn back to his lips. "But you know what they say right? You can take the boy out of Ireland, but you can never take Ireland out of the boy."

"You were born in Chicago!" Gloria laughed, a cloud of smoke escaping her nose and causing her to cough.

"You know what I mean." McCain replied. "It's all y'know... Genetic."

"You mean it's all bullshit."

"You don't embrace your heritage?" McCain asked, his attention now drawn from his puzzle and to the conversation.

"What you mean?" Gloria asked, surprise in her tone.

"The Mexican thing." McCain asked flatly. "You are Mexican aren't you?"

"Puerto Rican!" Gloria replied with a zest in her tone.

"Same thing." McCain turned back to his crossword. "Mexican. Puerto Rican. You all sneak across the borders and expect us to celebrate that Cinco De Mayo bullshit."

"Wow." Gloria sat back, absolutely gobsmacked and speechless. "Nice bit of racism there McCain. Last I knew you were a 'dirty immigrant' too."

"Well, as you quite rightly pointed out earlier," McCain started nonchalantly. "I was born in Chicago. So technically the 'dirty immigrant' was my mother. God rest her dirty immigrant soul."

Unable to keep a straight face, Gloria recoiled as she allowed a cloud of smoke to once more burst from her lungs, the car engulfed in a haze of nicotine infused smoke as McCain joined in, the two officers laughing raucously as the bushes to the patrol cars left suddenly wobbled slightly. Movement indicated around the other side.

"The hell was that?" Gloria asked, a silence falling over the pair.

"No idea." McCain answered as he too observed the hedge. "Said the weather was gonna change t some point. Maybe wind? Go take a look."

"Me?" Gloria whispered, hissing her words.

"Why not?" McCain answered, his voice also low.

"There's some crazy bitch going round killing people, maybe on her way to slaughter the very person we're sat watching, and you want to send a poor defenceless woman to check it out?" Gloria seemed astounded.

"Alright, alright." McCain gave in, throwing his crossword book across the dashboard of the patrol car and reaching into the foot well, returning with his hat. The silence that had suddenly descended upon the car seemed only to highlight the static from the radio frequency that kept crackling and popping along.

"Probably just a cat anyway." McCain reasoned, placing his hat on his head and gripping the handle of the car door, pulling and finding the door falling open as he slowly lifted his leg and stepped from the vehicle. Reaching into his belt, McCain withdrew a small torch and flicked it on, leaning back through the open door of the squad car and shining it into Gloria's eyes as she instinctively lifted a hand to shield herself from the light. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, then don't worry. I probably needed more than a piss this time."

"Gross McCain." Gloria answered, repulsed as McCain threw the door closed and marched off in front of the car and along the bushes, eventually disappearing behind as he reached the end and headed into the playground, the bleak light of the overcast night being exceptionally limited as McCain found himself tripping over the trunk of an old oak tree. Regaining his balance and swinging his torch to illuminate the immediate area, McCain did a quick check to make sure he was alone, the playground empty and still as a breeze softly began to ripple through the leaves overhead, getting stronger as a sudden gust of wind caused the branches to bend backwards as they struggled to resist the approaching gale, the rain now building and whipping at McCain's face. Satisfied he was alone, and more importantly that nobody was around to witness his little stumble just a moment ago, McCain lifted his torch to his shoulder and crooked his head to the side, holding the torch in position as though it were a phone and using both hands he reached down to his crotch and fumbled with his zipper. One of the biggest downsides he had discovered as he approached retirement, had been the ever decreasing size of his bladder. The constant cups of coffee no doubt only serving to be of further detriment as McCain now discovered, lowering his zip and releasing the pressure from within. The wind whipping around him, McCain gave a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels, the bushes before him illuminated by the torch cradled on his shoulder as he heard the satisfying sound of urine cascading over the grass before him. As the wind whistled and roared, the drops of rain hammered against his back, McCain failing to hear the footsteps approaching from behind. The crunching of leaves underfoot. The snap of a branch as his assailant sneaked almost by his side, arm raised and knife gripped tightly by the handle. The very first Officer McCain knew of his company, was the cold swish of steel arcing through the air.

And by then...

It was too late.

Back in the patrol car Gloria took another drag from her cigarette, holding the hit of nicotine infused smoke first a few seconds before exhaling a cloud of smoke through the open window to her right. The wind rippled through the row of trees littering the quiet street, branches bent double as the gust picked up and forged its path through anything unfortunate to stand in its way. Outside Sarah Pirce's house, a wind chime danced in the gale. The chimes ringing out hypnotically as the porch underneath sat in silence, only a wooden rocking chair joining in as it started to slowly arc back and forth, quickening as the strength of the wind picked up, all whilst the rain continued to fall, increasing from gentle drizzle to a steady shower as the small, well manicured garden separating the house from the sidewalk soaked up every last drop. The wooden house had no doubt seen worse than this, Gloria thought as she calmly puffed on her cigarette, the open window allowing a hint of the crisp, fresh evening to enter the car. Inside she could still see Sarah Pirce working from one room to the next, a whirlwind of emotions no doubt, as she worked to take her mind from the evening ahead. She had made her feelings known to both Gloria and Officer McCain upon their arrival. Oh how she had let them know what she thought. Using her as bait in a well laid trap. Trying to entice the killer towards them so they could pounce and make the arrest. Although it was denied, Gloria had to admit that was the plan. Round the clock surveillance though, could only provide so much protection. As Gloria found herself lost in her thoughts, she was brought back to her duties as she noticed Sarah had stopped. Stood in the window of her living room, staring into the street, she was watching the patrol car and trying to catch Gloria's attention, noticing she had it and giving a questioning thumbs up. Holding her cigarette from view, Gloria gave a reaffirming smile and returned the thumbs up. An indication that all was well, and that Sarah could relax. It was doubtful though. This had become something of a habit recently. Only instead of the gaps between checks getting shorter, they had now started to become more often. Every thirty minutes had become every fifteen. Which in turn had become every ten, and had now become every five. Satisfied, temporarily, Sarah gave a smile of her own before returning to whichever unnecessary task she had been working on beforehand, the lingering feeling of unwanted anticipation quelled for now. Turning back to the clock Gloria noticed the time. It had been almost five minutes since McCain was last seen disappearing behind the bushes separating the playground from the street, and not a peep had been heard since.

'Maybe he needed a little longer after all.' Gloria thought with a smile as she shuffled and fidgeted in her seat, reaching down to the side and pulling the lever, the seat reclining slightly as Gloria battled for comfort. Eyes locked on the windshield, the constant and increasing patter of rain had a refreshing quality to it as she took one final lungful of smoke and cast the butt of her cigarette through the open window with a joyful and content smile, her attention suddenly returning to the windscreen as something landed with a deafening slam and rolled to a stop across the hood of the car. At first she had thought it to be a joke by Officer McCain. Something to freak Gloria out as she sat and waited. But sitting forward and taking a closer look, it only took a second to register and for the enormity of the situation to hit home. There, on the hood of the patrol car, sat in an ever expanding pool of blood, sat the blank face of the late Officer McCain. Blood had begun to trickle from his mouth as his lifeless face stared straight back at her, the vacant expression only enhancing the fear. It only took a second for Gloria to muster a scream, but muster a scream she did. Her ears ringing as she felt her lungs begin to burn, finally regaining what little composure she could and reaching for the radio located on the dashboard of the car. Arms trembling, body tensing, Gloria gripped the radio and pulled it from its cradle, the wire hanging across her leg as she lifted the receiver to her mouth and felt the tears begin to roll from her eyes. Pressing the button on the side of the radio Gloria tried to speak, her words a stutter as she found herself unable to talk. Her eyes fixed to the blood now running down the windshield and along the hood. Then suddenly the moment changed. A swish, followed by the smallest of flashes, as the cable of the radio fell to Gloria's lap, the receiver still clenched tightly in her hand as Gloria suddenly felt her body come over all cold. Without moving her head, Gloria allowed her eyes to drop, a horror blossoming from within as she noticed the handle of what she figured to be an axe protruding from her neck as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. Attempting to draw breath, Gloria struggled. The axe wedged in her neck and, unbeknown to her the head rest of the seat behind, had not only cut off the intake of air but had also restricted the expulsion of carbon dioxide as Gloria started to choke, the blood now beginning to run down her throat feeling cold and thick as she involuntarily began to gag. Feeling her vision begin to cloud over, her energy start to dwindle, Gloria could do nothing but think of her family. Her children. Then with her last ounce of strength, she looked at the hand gripping the handle of the axe and allowed her eyes to run up the outstretched arm of her killer, only stopping as she finally reached the top and looked into the eyes of the mysterious, dark haired woman before her. It was a chilling last image as the face returned her stare. The smile that adorned the face dripping with a sadistic pleasure as she calmly stood and watched as darkness took over and Gloria's body finally fell limp.

Feeling a ripple of enjoyment spread throughout her very being, Tiffany looked into the eyes of the young woman before her and smiled a warm, satisfying smile. Taking a second to clock the name badge of her victim, Tiffany looked on as the eyes of officer Esposito slowly, gradually, began to glaze over, eyes flickering as she lifted her eyes and gave Tiffany a look of pure disbelief. Disbelief and terror to be more precise. Hand grasping the blade of the axe, Tiffany waited for Officer Esposito's eyes to close before giving a pull and attempting to withdraw the axe from the wound in her neck. But it was no good, Tiffany yanking once more as blood began to creep from Esposito's injury and run down the handle of the appliance, another pull opening the wound as blood now began to gush from the neck and cascade down the front of her police uniform, Tiffany by this point leaning forward to investigate the problem and finding the blade of her weapon jammed in the steel supports of the head rest of the patrol car, a sigh of frustration as Tiffany exhaled and blew the hair from her face, the body in the passenger seat sitting completely still as Tiffany had failed to realise her own strength, the axe slicing straight through Esposito's neck as Tiffany gave a little giggle of laughter. The head had been completely amputated and now sat atop the blade of the axe, the moment reminding Tiffany of Saturday evenings as a child, watching the magicians on television that were able to whip table cloths from beneath a fully set table without disturbing a single item. Only this had a more fulfilling feeling that now snaked its way through Tiffany's veins and ignited every nerve in pure, unbridled pleasure as she simply rested her elbows in the frame of the open car window and looked the corpse in the face with a childish grin. The flow of blood had begun to slow by now, the seat and foot well of the car by now soaked in the torrential downpour as Tiffany lifted a hand and ran her finger through the thick, sticky mess. Then, as she lifted her finger and admired the crimson, tacky liquid, she simply began to use the blood to decorate Gloria's face, biting her lip in concentration as she did so before leaning back through the window and admiring her handiwork, the word 'TOLD' taking pride of place on the forehead, whilst the words ''YOU' and 'SO' sat one on either cheek.

'TOLD YOU SO'

The words not to be considered a warning as such, but more a friendly reminder to the powers that be that they were indeed warned of the consequences of any attempted intervention. That attempt failing as two officers of Chicago Police Department now lay dead, their lives snuffed out in an instant in the line of service. But that was far from Tiffany's concerns as she took a step back, placing her palms on the surface of the patrol car door and pushing herself to a standing position, the car rocking slightly as Officer Esposito's head slowly leaned forward, the drying blood beneath her wound stretching as gravity did the rest and allowed Gloria's head to roll from the top of the axe and land in the lap of her torso with a sickening thud.

"Whoops." Tiffany cringed as she watched on in twisted interest, spinning in surprise as a smash of porcelain and a scream erupted from behind, enough to wake the dead as she turned to find a young woman stood on the porch of Sarah Pirce's house. Similar in height to Tiffany and with shoulder length blonde hair, the woman looked frail, her scrawny stature causing no immediate alarm as Tiffany looked her target in the eye and stepped forward.

The tray that had just seconds ago been gripped firmly in Sarah's hands now sat on the wooden floor of the porch, steam twirling into the air from the coffee, the shattered fragments of the mugs covering the immediate area as Sarah's face contorted in unimaginable horror, the mysterious woman before her turning in surprise. The empty night now filled with the blood curdling screams, bursting from Sarah's lungs over and over, the woman reached into the waist of her jeans and pulled a knife, the moonlight bouncing from the edge of the blade as she took a deep breath and stepped forward. Target acquired, Sarah watched on, trembling as survival instinct kicked in and she stepped backwards, slipping as her bare feet slipped from beneath her, the wet floor of the wooden porch losing any grip as it lay covered in coffee originally intended for McCain and Esposito. As she fell to the floor, eyes never leaving the knife brandishing woman before her, Sarah continued to move. Hands and feet pushing on as she scuffled backwards and towards the open door of her house, blood beginning to ooze from the soles of her feet as the chunks of porcelain cut in, Sarah's feet a blur as she pushed and pushed. Heart racing, adrenaline flowing Sarah watched, terrified, as Tiffany began to climb the handful of steps, ascending to the porch in a matter of seconds as her face remained unflinching, eyes never leaving her victim. Sarah felt cold as a feeling of impending doom began to settle across her shoulders. Her spine began to stiffen as she suddenly felt the warm, thick carpet beneath her palms, her living room offering a brief moment of safety as she gave one last push through the open door of the house and rose to her knees. Grabbing the door with both hands and giving a defiant scream, Sarah started to slam the door closed, her attacker's face now one of fury as she picked up the pace and lunged, her body slamming into the door just before the latch could make contact and lock. Taken by surprise, Sarah fell backwards, the weight of the woman's body forcing the door to snap back, the solid wood hitting Sarah in the face and forcing her from her knees as she landed on her back beside the coffee table in the middle of the living room floor. As the stars began to circle, Sarah felt a sickness begin to rise from her stomach. A nauseous feeling as the blow to the head took its toll and left the room spinning, a drunken feeling coming over Sarah as she suddenly felt a weight upon her. Opening her eyes and attempting to gain her bearings, Sarah now found herself pinned to the floor, both wrists forced to the deep, thick carpet as her attacker now sat upon her, knife grasped between her teeth as long dark strands of hair dangled in front of her eyes. Who was this woman? Why was she intent on causing such destruction and carnage? Feeling Tiffany's breath up against her face, Sarah forced back the tears as she heard words whispered into her ears. A calmness buried deep beneath as the voice, breathless and intense, spoke.

"Let it go." The voice, quiet and high in pitch, whispered from behind the blade. "He never wanted you."

Feeling a surge of adrenaline, Sarah lifted her knees to her chest and gave freedom one last try, planting the soles of her feet into Tiffany's abdomen and pushing with every ounce of strength she had, her energy levels depleted but a reservoir of determination fuelling the fires of survival. Sure enough the kick worked, catching the woman off guard as Sarah suddenly found her wrists become free, her assailant sent flying backwards and into the coffee table, the structure failing immediately as wood splintered and flew in every direction. What did she mean by that? Who was she talking about? Who 'didn't want her'? Sarah couldn't help but wonder as her body automatically tried to stand. Her legs wobbling under her own weight as she once again fought back the sickness and turned towards the kitchen, the woman now laying in agony across the shattered remnants of her coffee table gritting her teeth and rolling to ease the pain. Taking a step towards the kitchen, passing through the door, Sarah felt the icy coldness of the charcoal coloured tiles beneath her feet. Blood oozing from several cuts as once more her feet gave way and Sarah fell to her knees. Gasping at the pain, the streaks of bloody footprints left in her wake, Sarah started to crawl. Tears falling from her eyes, vision obscured, she reached out and grabbed the handle of the patio doors, the garden sitting just beyond maybe offering her only hope of raising the alarm, Sarah screaming in terror as she suddenly saw a reflection in the glass of the door and dodged the incoming attack, the knife slicing past Sarah's ear and jamming in the frame of the door. Falling backwards and landing on her bum, Sarah observed, petrified as the angered woman now stood, both hands gripping the handle of the knife, jerking and grunting as she exerted all her strength to free the blade. Sensing an opportunity, Sarah staggered to her knees and reached up to the kitchen counter, grabbing the phone from it's cradle on the wall and quickly dialling 911 as a voice calmly appeared over the line.

"911 what is your emergency?" The voice asked.

"HELP!" Sarah screamed. "THEY'RE BOTH DEAD! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"

Turning and finding the insane woman upon her once more, Sarah dodged automatically, spinning just in time and landing with a thump as the knife swung through the air again, finding its mark as the cold steel of the blade sliced through the cord, the line instantly dropping dead as Sarah found her call for help unceremoniously ended. Pushing herself from her knees once more, the patio doors still an option, Sarah suddenly felt the wind knocked from her lungs. Her body igniting in a searing pain as a boot connected with her stomach, the impact enough to send her tumbling across the spacious, tiled floor of the kitchen. Regaining her composure and rolling onto her back, she tried to sit up, prevented as her would be murderer once again placed the knife between her teeth and dropped to her knees, swinging a leg over Sarah's waist and straddling her as she attempted to secure her wrists. Pinned to the floor once again, Sarah felt her arms forced above her head, the woman now attempting to hold her with a solitary hand as she pulled the knife from her teeth with a mischievous grin and lifted it high above her head. Hearing the sound of the blade cutting through the air, Sarah swung her body to her right, just in time as the knife chipped into the tile beside her head, tiny ceramic fragments flying into the air as a voice snapped.

"Hold fucking still!" The attacker spat, venom in her words as she lifted the knife high above her head once more, Sarah now throwing herself the opposite way as the knife came tearing down again, the mystery woman almost falling over as the knife struck the tile with a sickening scrape. Sensing the opportunity, that her assailant was now off balance, Sarah managed to move her arms, the woman's momentary loss of composure helping incredibly as Sarah managed to break free from her grasp, curling her fingers into a fist and swinging as best she could. It worked better than she could have hoped. Not only did she make contact, but she caught Tiffany square in the nose. A splatter of blood squirting from her face as Sarah's fist made contact and the woman fell backwards once more. Seeing the knife fall from her fist and slide across the tiles of the kitchen floor, Sarah suddenly found herself in an unexpected position. She had the upper hand. Her attacker now lay on the kitchen floor, her weapon several feet from her, as Sarah sat up and pushed herself to her feet. Knees buckling once more, she fought off the fear, saw past the pain, and stood as best she could, sensing her chance now upon her as she turned towards the patio doors of the kitchen, the back garden, and the garage, awaiting. Groggily stepping across the kitchen, blood still spewing from the puncture wounds gracing the soles of her feet, Sarah approached the doors without looking back, grasping the handle and turning as the door swung open and the rain filled evening sat still and inviting. Stepping through the door, a spark of electricity igniting a feeling of optimism, Sarah felt the soft grass of her rear garden beneath her. Spongy and sodden, the grass was remarkably warm as she allowed her steps to turn into a jog, the searing pain briefly forgotten as she allowed the jog to evolve into a sprint, racing across the wet turf and towards the garage. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sarah turned and felt her heart sink, the woman in the kitchen rising to her feet, seemingly unstoppable as Sarah bolted across the lawn. Feeling the fear rise once more, the world Sarah knew suddenly began to spin end over end as she found the breath ripped from her body. Looking back, it would seem, had proven to be Sarah's biggest, and final, mistake.

Giving her head a shake, the cobwebs disappearing, Tiffany sat up. This was proving to be trickier than expected, that was for sure. Casting her eyes to the kitchen counter, she could see the phone line hanging loose, swinging to and thro as the phone lay abandoned in a small pool of blood. She could scream. How could she be so complacent? The police weren't that stupid. It wouldn't take long, minutes if that, and the call would be traced. Alarm bells would ring and Chicago's finest would be tearing towards the abode of one Sarah Pirce. Gingerly pushing herself to her feet, legs trembling, Tiffany now spun her head from left to right in search of Sarah. She had to admit, that was one hell of a punch, kicking herself mentally as she berated herself for letting it happen. The frail looking woman obviously underestimated as Tiffany finally lay her eyes on Sarah, the narrow patio door swinging open in the evening wind, the rain lashing at the glass as Tiffany watched her race away, across the grass swimming in rain water and towards the garage. But then something quite unexpected happened. Just as Tiffany thought all hope was lost. Just as Sarah sprinted across the grass, water spraying into the air with every step. Tiffany watched as Sarah turned her head back towards the house, a look of fear engraved on her face as time seemed to suddenly slow and Sarah found herself swept from her feet. Head snapping backwards, legs flying into the air, torso spinning as she hit the ground with a soggy thud. The puddle of rainwater beneath exploded as Sarah landed motionless, the rain hammering down as she lay still and breathless. Taking a step towards the patio doors, dodging the streaks of blood across the dark tiles of the kitchen floor, Tiffany moved as quickly as she could, blood flowing from her nose as she lifted an arm and wiped herself clean, knife gripped tightly in her hand. Crossing the threshold and stepping into the unwelcoming downpour outside, Tiffany's sneakers sunk into the grass, a squelch underfoot as she began to move quicker, approaching Sarah and investigating the cause of her sudden and unexpected state of incapacity. Allowing a smile to spread across her face, Tiffany stood over Sarah, now beginning to squirm as she fought for breath, and looked at the washing line. Beads of rainwater sat on the length of cord running the width of the garden, the line still wobbling from the impact just seconds ago, Tiffany looking at the height of the line and correctly assuming Sarah to have taken the blow to the neck, the line almost invisible as she hurtled across the garden and towards freedom. Fate, it would seem, could be a cruel mistress as now, in the blink of an eye, Tiffany found herself with the upper hand. And now, she planned to make the most of it. No more messing about. No more underestimating. It ended now. Sarah laying in a pool of water as the heavens ejected water at a furious rate, Tiffany lifting the knife with one hand and grabbing the washing line with the other, cutting through the thin, plastic material with one swipe of the blade and curling it around her fist, gripping tight enough to turn her knuckles white as she dropped to her knees with a splash ad began to wrap the washing line around Sarah's neck. Not once, not twice, but three times as she pulled tightly and sparked a sense of urgency in her victim, Sarah's eyes blinking through the ensuing rain, finger nails clawing at her neck as she desperately tried to create a gap, unable as she struggled to her knees, Tiffany pulling tighter still as Sarah continued clawing. Blood began to flow from her neck, the deep red diluted by the rain as Sarah's immaculately manicured nails dug into her skin and began to tear the flesh to shreds as she found her flow of oxygen severely limited. Attempting to stand, Tiffany following suit and moving with her, Sarah felt her legs buckle, Tiffany landing a swift kick to the back of her knee as she gave a small laugh and pulled tighter still, the pressure building in Sarah's head as she tried to scream, unable to do so as the panic grew and grew. Then, without warning, a pain erupted. Rippling from the middle of her back and spreading outwards across Sarah's body, Tiffany choosing her moment wisely and plunging the knife into her back, deep enough to puncture a lung, as she withdrew the knife and watched on, Sarah's body slowly going still as her struggle seemed to dwindle and Tiffany pulled one final time, her body tensing, the soaking wet washing line slipping slightly in her fist as Sarah's eyes rolled back in her skull and she finally gave up the ghost, arms dropping from her bloody neck in unison as Sarah's head suddenly dropped lifelessly and Tiffany released her grip, Sarah's body landing with a splash as the flow of blood began to merge with the mud and rainwater. Falling backwards and landing on the seat of her pants, Tiffany took a deep breath and felt relief wash over her, the rain falling heavier than ever as she looked at Sarah's body face down in the dirt, blood streaming from the puncture wound to her back. As the adrenaline began to dissipate and the enormity of the situation dawned, Tiffany took a look around and swept the sodden hair from her face. Although detached, other neighbouring properties still had ample view of Sarah Pirce's rear garden, and as she cast her eyes towards these properties Tiffany could see a single bedroom light flicker into life as the silhouette of a lone figure came into view.

"Shit!" Tiffany spat, rolling onto her knees and turning her back to the window. During the drama that had unfolded just moments ago, she had completely neglected to check out her surroundings, completely unprepared for this moment as she panicked and rose to her feet, beginning to sprint towards the house of the late Sarah Pirce and into the kitchen, away from prying eyes. Jeans soaking wet, water seeping into her sneakers, she hit the kitchen floor with a squelch and carried on, bolting through and into the living room, the remnants of Sarah's coffee table scattered across the floor as Tiffany shot past and through the front door. As she hit the porch, she could hear the sound of approaching sirens. Distant, but accompanied by a haze of flickering blue and red lights across the horizon, the sirens grew in volume, no time to lose as Tiffany began to run once more. Down the steps of the porch and into the street, across the road and past the patrol car, the decapitated body of Gloria Esposito's sitting on full view in the passenger seat, the severed head of Officer McCain still taking pride of place on the patrol cars hood as the rain battered the car relentlessly, without mercy. Passing the car without a second glance Tiffany headed behind the bushes and into the playground behind, stumbling across the roots of an old oak tree as she struggled to find her way, the area devoid of light as Tiffany lifted her head and focused on the street lights across the way, the street beyond offering sanctuary as Tiffany's means of escape awaited. Taking another quick stumble over the body of officer McCain, Tiffany ran and ran, her heart beginning to thud as her chest pounded and her legs began to burn. The sirens grew louder, not just one or two but a whole group, screaming out as one as Tiffany reached the edge of the playground and leapt the fence, her body slamming against the side of the parked up Plymouth as she quickly yanked open the car door and slid inside, firing up the engine in an instant. Giving the car some gas and throwing her headlights on, the street in front of her suddenly became illuminated as the car moved forward, reaching the intersection and screaching to a halt as a blur of white, blue and red blazed by at speed, the sirens deafening as they turned the corner and disappeared from view. Sensing her opportunity, Tiffany gave the car some gas once more and as calmly as possible pulled into the street.

'That was close.' She thought her nerves giving way to a chuckle, the euphoria allowing it to grow into a fit of laughter.

'Now who's next?'