Chapter 34: Hit and run

…

Now back in his car, Leach pulled out his phone and dialled the number he'd just charged Adam a small fortune for.

"This is Leach," he said when his man picked up on the other end. The head Misogynist was a nasty piece of work named Ashley, who truly did make Adam an ammeter even in misogyny. He'd fuck a woman if he liked the look of her there and then, dragging her in to bushes or his car to do so. He'd literally see them alone on the street, grab them and rape them. He was incredibly violent and if a woman even dared speak without his permission, they got at the very least a black eye. Worst, broken bones. Leach suspected he'd even killed a couple of women in his time for such things as daring to speak without his permission, not calling him Sir or taking his plate out after dinner for him quick enough. Oh yes, Ashley would hurt a woman given the slightest excuse, also even without one. Leach once heard he'd also hospitalised many, one for daring not to answer her phone when he called the first time. He'd had to call again. From what Leach had been told, she'd had broken ribs.

"We've got a new recruit joining you guys. Name's Adam Dawson. He's a misogynist and asked to be put in touch with you to join up. Help terrorise women with you."

"Perfect," Ashley almost purred and Leach actually felt a shiver run down his spine. "The more bitches who are scared and do as we men tell them, so much the fucking better. I need to be quick though Mr. Leach, I have a whore waiting to get her good fucking as we speak."

"No problem," Leach said, surprised at how repulsed he felt at his man's words and Adam's. This was very unusual for him as he never normally felt anything. Cold, emotionless, detached. But then he reminded himself why should he care? This wasn't his business; it was a business. Big difference. But he had made it quite clear to Ashley and his fellow misogynists that they were never, ever to hurt Tulip, Sharon. Leach felt very protective of his deputy. That said, she was built like a brick shit house and would certainly give them a run for their money if they tried anything. But it was an unspoken agreement between them. Sharon, was and would always be safe from them. Any other woman, Leach didn't give a damn. But not Tulip! Or there would be hell to pay.

"I gave him your number," he continued. "He'll contact you soon I'm sure."

"Well if it's tonight he'll have to wait. I got three whores to fuck before the nights out, my mistress has a huge list of jobs to do around the house, and I will be busy inspecting them to make sure she's done them to my absolute demands."

God help her if she hasn't, Leach thought. Jesus! What motivates these guys to this level?

"I told him to wait until tomorrow," Leach said. This was untrue and he wasn't sure why he'd said it, but he sincerely hoped Adam would do so. A pissed off Ashley might mean men get hurt, never mind women.

"Fine," Ashley grunted and hung up.

Normally Leach would've been angry his subordinate hadn't respected him, but tonight he didn't care he realised as the phone went dead in his ear. He was tired and wanted a good night's sleep. He himself was single, but Sharon was always there if he wanted a good romp in the sheets. Thinking of her now, Chris Leach smiled as he started his car's engine. He would make damn sure Ashley or one of the others told Dawson she was off limits from their misogyny. If they didn't, he would.

…

Danielle lay in bed in Michael's arms, getting close to sleep. She felt a lot better following her meeting with Stacey that day, or rather their meeting. She rested her head on Michael's shoulder, as the killer continued stroking her back. She noticed how tenderly he was doing so, so as not to hurt her scarred flesh. She realised this was one of less than ten times Michael had seen her naked. It'd only happened since they got together of course.

"Michael," she murmured. "Darling, can I show you something?" The second word had just slipped out and she wondered how he'd react, but he simply kissed her mouth, placing her hands on his ears. She took a deep breath. She'd wanted to do this for a while, even before they became a couple. But tonight was time, she knew it in her very heart.

She let go of Michael's left ear and took one of his hands, slowly guiding it across her body, each and every scar. As she did so, she told him how she'd got each one. The cigarette burns, cuts with a knife if she didn't wash up, wash his clothes, answer her phone, was late home, or dared to speak to him without his say so.

Finally, she placed his hand on her inner thigh, very close to her vaginal entrance. "I got this one," she said very quietly. Even though there was no one around to hear. "The day I tried to hang myself. Adam cut me with a knife while he was slashing my trousers off to rape me. I'm not sure whether he meant to do it or not, but it bled so bad it almost killed me on its own from blood loss. Luckily the ambulance staff acted super-fast, thanks to Nigel. I really hope you meet him one day Michael, I love that man as a grand dad."

She could almost feel the killer's anger as his finger rested very lightly on her most intimate scar, but then he removed his hand, pulled her back to him and kissed her again. Now she couldn't stop herself. This was something she'd only done with him once way back. Now, it was for real. She moved back up so her head was on his shoulder and for only the second time, moved her mouth so it was against his right ear.

She was sure she heard him softly chuckle as she did so, but this time she slowly moved her lips across it, hearing his sharp intake of breath, before she very softly nibbled the top of his ear. Michael's arms tightened, but she knew he was trying to suppress his reaction for her. She leant down and kissed him.

"I love you, Michael Myers," she whispered. "I love you so much! God I find your ears fucking sexy! I meant what I said that very first time you know. One day soon, I promise you, I won't want you to stop. I want to be yours in every way, Michael and if you'll let me, I will be some very soon day."

He resumed stroking her back as she rested back on his shoulder, her favourite pillow. He moved his head again so she was touching his ears. Unable to help herself, she nibbled the top of his left ear this time and heard his quiet chuckle.

"Hmm," she sighed happily. "So comfortable." She felt his arms tighten around her and pressed her face against his neck, then softly kissed it once, twice. The killer raised his head and to her surprise but delight, he kissed hers in turn as she had kissed his.

Let Adam try what he wants! She thought as she cuddled close to Michael, closing her eyes in utter contentment. I'm ready for him! Michael Myers of all people has shown me I can beat him! I can win! You will never control or torture me again, Adam Dawson. God help you if you try! Have you dug your grave yet or made the headstone? I'd start now if I were you, especially if I'm still in your twisted plans. You want to die soon? Then keep coming after me for your death warrant.

…

The clock is ticking on Derek Chancer's chances.

The 28 year old killer from Haddonfield responsible for the brutal rapes and murders of no fewer than forty-two women in five years, is condemned to die by electrocution in old Sparky. His Lawyer Aiden Thompson told this newspaper, "I am doing all within my power to save my client from the death penalty, but even if I succeed in this endeavour he will face life imprisonment."

This statement has caused public outcry from friends and family of Mr. Chancer's victims.

"He deserves to die," said Samantha Lever, sister of Rachael Lever, Mr. Chancer's eighth victim. "We've never stopped grieving Rachael, and the thought of her killer still living when she is no longer with us is something we won't stand for!"

Miss Lever's statement is far from the only one. When we here at Haddonfield's hottest Hype were the first to reveal Mr. Chancer had been caught, there was celebration country wide.

One thing our one lucky reporter here at HHH who was allowed close enough to see Mr. Chancer escorted with maximum security in to Death-Row, did note the woman killer had very red, swollen and badly bruised ears. Both of them. How this happened, we do not know.

A complete list of all forty-two names is at the bottom of this article. The mayor of Haddonfield is asking for volunteers within the town to aid in the building of a memorial to the victims. If you would like to help, please use the Email address at the top of this page.

Rachael Lever.

Sarah Goodall.

Amy Richards.

Sally Webber.

…

Mark Sarcozi felt physically sick as he scanned the newspaper in front of him. How had it come to this? The little boy he'd met when they were 6 at school a woman killer and rapist? Now facing the electric chair? Mark knew he'd done the right thing leaving him behind. With friends like that, who needed enemies after all?

But even at that age, Derek had shown glimpses of the evil man he'd become. Mark remembered the very first one only too well. Thinking back over the three times he'd had to visit his former friend in Smith's Grove, Mark couldn't understand why he'd even agreed to do it, money be damned. Ok, so his bank balance had grown a great deal, but it felt like small consolation for all those women who were now dead thanks to Derek Chancer.

Mark looked back at the quotes from families of the deceased and found he agreed. Derek did deserve to die. It would bring closure to so many families and friends of his victims. Mark privately suspected Thompson had said what he had to provoke this response. That even the Lawyer was hoping Chancer would be executed and a protest might help his cause, while at the same time looking as though he was "trying to save his client."

Don't bother, Mark thought. He's beyond any kind of saving now. Try as he might, he couldn't get that first day meeting Chancer out of his mind. Even then he should've known something was wrong, even aged 6. But none of them had any idea just how evil he would become.

…

"Ok," Miss Tapper called, silencing the twenty children in front of her. "You all now have a piece of playdough and I want you please to make it in to your favourite thing, then tell us what it means to you and why. It could be hobbies, people, whatever is closest to you. You can work in pairs if you wish. You have an hour."

Mark sitting near the front knew exactly what he was going to make. His ambition was to be a famous racing driver, become world champion. Reaching for his rolling pin, he began to roll the dough flat. The two assistants with Miss Tapper were keeping careful eyes on them, considering they were children with rolling pins and cutters, hazards if not controlled correctly.

Making a racing car was a lot harder than he'd thought it would be. He reached for a cutter, they had one which was car shaped and placed it in the middle of his flat dough. The result was nowhere near as good as he'd hoped.

"I can make that a much better car," said a voice to his left. Mark looked around and saw that another class mate was now sitting next to him. The boy had short black hair and piercing, cold blue eyes. "That's what you're making right?"

"Yeah," Mark blushed. "I want to be a world famous racing driver.

The other boy's lip curled in what looked to Mark like a smirk or a sneer of contempt, but he said nothing, just started helping with his car. By the time they were done, Mark was very proud of their work but hated the fact the other boy had been right. He had made it a lot better than Mark would or could ever have done. That stung.

"What's your name?" Mark asked him.

"I'm Derek," the other boy said. "Yours?"

"I'm mark."

"Nice to meet you, Mark." Then, he started to laugh. "Ha-ha a racing driver, get on your marks!" He seemed to find this hilarious. Mark looked away.

"What are you making?" Mark asked Derek, who had now started on his. To Mark, it looked like a long box with decorations around the edges. Mark dived in enthusiastically and helped Derek as he had helped him.

When the hour was up, Miss Tapper called the class to order and went round the room asking them about their shapes. There were pets, family member's mom and dad, and one little girl had tried to make a pair of scissors because she wanted to be a hairdresser when she grew up. When it came Mark's turn, he showed his racing car and said his ambition was to be a world famous driver.

When Derek Chancer stood up when Miss Tapper called on him, he held up his box shape.

"Ok Derek," Miss Tapper said. "What is this? What does it mean to you?"

"It's a coffin," Derek said quietly, but clearly. Everyone heard. A few girls squeaked. "It's a box for a dead person."

"Ok…" even at 6, Mark knew Miss Tapper was taken aback at the very least by this choice of shape. But she rallied almost at once. "What does that mean to you, Derek? Do you want to be an undertaker when you grew up?"

"Yes Miss Tapper," Derek said. "An undertaker of revenge, of justice."

…

Mark shivered, remembering this as if it'd happened yesterday. Miss Tapper had asked Derek to stay behind after class and asked him privately about it. Mark had only found this out years later. Derek had told him the teacher had said he had to be very careful saying things like that and asked exactly what he meant. She'd also told the headmaster about her concerns.

Mark suddenly felt a lurch of horror and scanned the article, but there was no sign of a Lorraine Tapper in the list of names. Clearly she hadn't been targeted by the killer in her classroom that day.

Yet somehow they became friends and remained so for ten years. Until Chancer first raped then killed a woman. That was when Mark knew he needed out.

Of course, how were any of them to know what Derek actually, really meant? If Miss Tapper had told Derek's mother, that would've been useless considering she loved her little boy, saying he wouldn't "hurt a fly." Now Mark understood why. She too was bent on revenge against women and would protect her son at any cost. After all, they only had each other now after his father had left them for another woman, starting this hellish chain of rape and death.

Even during those brief visits he'd made to his former friend, Mark knew he was just as dangerous as he always had been. He had no idea what the eventual outcome of the iPod thing was, but quite honestly was glad he didn't. It wasn't his business after all. But he still stood by his private hopes that she wasn't hurt as a result of any of his actions. If he could go back and do it all again, he'd have refused when first asked. He'd been weak, thinking of money alone. He hated himself for that. Let Chris Leach do what he wanted, but Mark Sarcozi was done with him or his crime. He fully intended to get back on the right path, leaving Derek Chancer to fry in the chair. Mark would be glad when it happened. He even wished he could pull the switch.

…

One week later.

Despite his continued longing and desire to punish both bitches, Adam had to admit his father had had a point. Claire Richards was a fucking gorgeous bitch. He'd done the same as he had with Charlotte, faked sadness at his breakup with her and Claire was more than ready to run in to his arms. For the last almost fortnight Adam had been Mr. nice guy, trying as hard as he could to stay patient until his real self could come out yet again. Claire was only too willing to let him fuck her, all be it he was only pretending to ask her consent. God help her if she'd said no.

Leach's gang of misogynists were the best thing that'd happened to Adam recently. They hated women with a ferocity Adam had been longing for. The only woman they weren't allowed to touch was Tulip, or Sharon, Leach's deputy. If Adam was honest, given the chance he'd do just that. They were obviously scared of Leach, cowards. Adam's annoyance with the crime Lord was not something he would hide. How could he not re-instate a smaller contract for him to pursue Charlotte? Why the hell would Michael Myers give a damn for Charlotte Avery? her, ok. But Charlotte?

Slamming his front door that night, Claire was dutifully waiting for him. Good. "Haya babe," Claire said, smiling at him. Adam clenched his fists internally. I'm Sir to you bitch! He thought viciously. But that had to wait. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to smile back. "Hey darling," he approached and kissed her passionately, holding her tightly. It may have seemed romantic to her, but in truth it was to try and show her without actually doing so that she wasn't going anywhere, she was his.

He'd met Claire a few times in his local bar and had made his move to capture her immediately. Just as he had hoped, Claire didn't believe a word of the press article about his trial. "You're way too nice for that Adam," she'd gushed, batting her eye lashes at him. Adam felt his cock harden. Fuck she was gorgeous. He was going to have her tonight. "It's all a bunch of lies and I know it. I've liked you for ages. I can't pretend otherwise! I'm so glad you've broken up with that Charlotte."

"Thanks babes," Adam had said, walking her back to his house like a true gentleman. Claire had said she'd love to come back with him. It wasn't long before he was fucking her. Right then, he knew she was his last conquest. He'd marry her, force her to stay with him to obey, get fucked and so on.

Claire was 25 to his 32, but that didn't matter to him. Young, naïve, easy target. Adam had often smiled at his date of birth, 06/06/1966. He saw it as a sign. An omen perhaps, pun intended.

Now, Claire came in to his living room carrying his dinner. She seemed to enjoy doing things for him. That was even better. "Sorry," she blushed. "I love you; Adam and I want to do this for you."

Get used to it, Adam thought. Because soon you'll have no choice on pain of rape or beating. Maybe worse.

"Thank you babes," Adam said, sitting down to eat as Claire brought her food in. Oh no, that would be stopped soon. She wouldn't have his nice stuff for much longer. She'd make do with a sandwich or something very soon. Adam couldn't believe how stupidly easy it'd been to get Claire in to his house and consequently, his trap. He'd assumed rightly. Women couldn't resist his good looks and fake charm. They were throwing themselves at him. Right now, Claire still lived with her parents, but that wouldn't last long. He'd sweep her off her feet, he sneered at the romantic saying. Sweep her in to hell was probably more accurate. Unless she was one of those bitches who secretly loved being dominated, controlled. If so, even better. He'd still beat her sometimes just for his own kicks though, however obedient she was to him.

"I've got to make a phone call babes," he said when they'd finished dinner. "I won't be long and then I want to take you to bed and fuck you all night!" I'm going to was what he really wanted to say, but he knew he had to be careful. Not yet, too fast. Claire smiled at him seductively and he almost grabbed and fucked her there and then over the dining room table. "Ok darling," she purred. "Sounds good to me." Adam again wanted to tell her she had no choice in the matter, but stopped himself. He headed in to his bedroom and locked the door so his whore couldn't get in until he or rather his cock, was ready for her. Pulling out his phone, he dialled Ashley's number. There were some men in the misogynist gang he'd almost call friends already. It was so nice to talk to men who had the same view as him. That women should be locked up, beaten, raped. Views the stupid authorities were too cowardly to make legal. If he ever got in to government one day, he'd do just that.

"Adam," Ashley said when he answered. "What's up my man?"

"Ashley my good fellow! Can I talk with you about something? Are you free now?"

"Yes, in person or phone?"

"Well if you can do in person awesome! I'll be there now! I just have to secure my bitch!"

"Perfect. I'll see you at mine in thirty minutes? I need to secure mine too, get her out of our way. Private man's business and all that."

Adam laughed. "I hear you Ashley. Thanks. Will any of the others be able to make it? I want to run this past a few of us."

"I'll make some calls Adam. See you in thirty." He was gone. Adam whistled loudly as he headed back downstairs. Now the only problem facing him was how to stop Claire leaving while still looking "kind." Adam sneered at the word. Oh he couldn't wait until all pretences could be gone. Claire would be put in her proper place, his property, subordinate to him. It wouldn't be long now; Adam was determined on this.

"Babes, I have to go out. I'm going to lock the door to keep you safe, ok? There's a key in the box on the side by the door but please don't use it unless you have to, wait for me my darling and I'll fuck you later all you want."

Claire smiled at him and Adam wanted to punch her. "Ok Adam, see you soon darling." Just as well she hadn't asked him where he was going, or he may very well have lost his temper and hit her. That would be bad at this very early stage. What Adam was really saying was if you leave I'll know and you'll be badly punished.

"I'll be checking the key is there when I come back," he said. "Just to make sure you haven't touched it or lost it." He left before she could answer. Damn he had to be careful but fuck he hated women. They belonged beneath men and subordinate to them in every way. As Adam climbed in to his car, he wondered how many bitches had just been locked up by their men for this male only meeting. Smirking, he headed to ward's Ashley's huge house. Whatever crime he dabbled in was clearly profitable. Adam hoped he'd get his hands on some of that crime soon. Especially if it made money like Ashley and some of his fellow misogynists had.

When Adam arrived six men were waiting for him, making Adam smile broadly. There were six other misogynists with him and they would help him somehow. Some of their misogyny made Adam's look tame. He would learn from these men.

"Dawson!" Ashley clapped him on the back. "Come in Sir!"

Adam entered Ashley's lounge and settled himself on a wide leather sofa. Two of the men there were in suits and ties he noticed, the other four more casually dressed. Maybe the suited guys were leaders or something?

"What can I get you to drink?" Ashley asked. "Normally my bitch would be doing this but she's locked up tonight as punishment for an earlier transgression."

Adam grinned. Good. "Good to hear it Sir. I'll have a beer, if you please?"

"No problem my man. One minute."

When Ashley returned with an ice cold beer, Adam thanked him and as the other six opened their own drinks, he started. "Gentlemen, I know I'm very new indeed to this gang, but I can't thank Mr. Leach enough for letting me in to it. I've wanted to meet men like yourselves for all of my life. Men who hate women, agree with me they are subordinate to us. I just wish like fuck it was legal!" There were murmurs of agreement. "So anyway, you'll have probably all seen the trial, yes?" The six men nodded, but none spoke. "A woman not accepting her place. Well I can't get to her for… reasons which would take too long to explain and to be honest you might not believe. I'm struggling to believe them myself. But Charlotte? Hell yes! She's one I can get too with your help if you're willing. I don't want this to be a full contract and I'm not trying to go behind Mr. Leach's back. But I would pay whoever did it very generously indeed."

"Hmm," Ashley said slowly. "So you want Charlotte attacked. Sounds good to me! But how far are we talking? Raped? Or…"

"No," Adam said with an evil smile. "Fatally."

"Wo, ok!" One of the suited men said. "Slow down Adam. You want us to arrange Charlotte Avery's death?"

"Correct. Is that possible? I'll pay whatever it takes?"

"It's certainly possible," said the other suited man. "But it'll be expensive and will need a lot of working out and planning."

"Will you need to ask Mr. Leach for authorisation for her killing?"

Ashley considered. "Nah. We're supposed to, but I like you Adam. I'll take the rap for it if necessary. I have some seniority in Mr. Leach's rings, so if I say its ok he tends to trust me."

"Thanks man," Adam shook Ashley's hand. "I can't thank you enough for this."

"Ok. So if we are going to kill her, first thing we need to decide is when, how, where. We need to start planning gentleman. Settle in, get some food if you want it, this could be a long night."

Four hours later, Adam headed for home. He was thrilled. It'd taken a lot of planning, but now they were ready. He had been right in his earlier assumption, the guys in suits were gang leaders. They'd made notes as they talked which had been immediately shredded in a powerful machine. Tomorrow was the day death would call Charlotte Avery's name. Adam was just sorry he wouldn't be there to watch it. He'd deliberately avoided telling the group about Michael Myers and her. If they knew that, it was very likely the plans would've been stopped right there and Adam wasn't going to let that happen. No, Charlotte Avery was going to die for daring to defy him, testify in court, and patch up with her! Not to mention being a disobedient bitch who didn't know who her boss was. Men.

"You'll need to be at home when it happens Adam," Patrick, one of the casually dressed men said. "You need a solid alibi. Unless we're very careful and make it look like an accident the police will be on to you like bees to a honeycomb. You can't be anywhere near her when it happens. We'll video it and send it to you later."

As much as Adam hated it, he knew Patrick was right. "Fine," he said without argument. "As long as you send me the tapes. I'll pay when I've seen it's done."

"Ok," Ashley agreed. "But Patrick here's right. You being there would be way too dangerous. The police will probably come straight round to your address. You know the drill, fake shock, sadness. Ok they might not buy it given the trial, but they'll have no choice but to believe you weren't there as all the evidence will confirm that. So don't be, Adam. Don't put yourself in that position when the cops are crawling all over and watching you all the time. You have to stay out of this and let us do the work."

Adam knew they were right, but it didn't mean he had to like it. Damn it. He wanted to see Charlotte Avery die and laugh as she did so. He just hoped it wouldn't be quick, but slow and very painful. It would serve the bitch right.

Before Long, Adam was fucking Claire slowly and relishing every second. Hearing Claire's soft moans beneath him, grabbing her tits, knowing she would soon be his prisoner, that she would learn who was her boss and if she failed to learn this, she would be punished in the very same way. Adam's thoughts about that dickhead Tim Jennings didn't help. The guy who'd dared to take his property from him without his permission. Charlotte was his property, so he should've asked his say so before taking her, it. Just as with anything in his house. True he didn't give a shit about her, but as far as Adam was concerned that was beside the point. In the end, Ashley had contacted Chris Leach by phone and ran the plans past him, verifying he would take any responsibility if anything went wrong and that Adam wasn't asking for a full contract, just this assassination. Leach hesitated for a while and Adam heard Ashley telling the crime Lord the plans once, twice, until Leach was finally satisfied and authorised it. Even the price of 20000 dollars didn't deter Adam. This was just perfect. As he'd handed the cash over to Ashley before leaving, he just wished he could watch, popcorn in hand. What a hell of a show he would be missing tomorrow morning. If all went well, Charlotte Avery would next be seen by her family and friends in her coffin.

…

Derek lay in his tiny cell, trying desperately to deny the feelings which were starting to fill and ultimately take him over. Hopelessness and fear. This was not looking good for him. The electric chair was seventy long steps away but it felt like one. How was he to get himself out of this? He thought back to how he'd thought he'd take the chair over being killed by Myers any day. Now? His thoughts on this were rather different. He remembered that bitch Hayward's words. "Michael, don't kill him, please? He deserves to wait, suffer then fry. All the women he's raped and killed deserve justice."

Who the fuck did that bitch think she was? She'd wanted him to feel the fear he was feeling now. He didn't have an official date of execution yet, but he knew it was getting close, it had to be. They wouldn't waste years on killing him given his crimes.

Thompson had visited earlier that day and had as good as confirmed this to Derek. "I am running out of appeals, Mr. Chancer. There isn't much else I can do." As each day passed, Derek was waiting for a guard to ask him what he wanted for his last meal, if he had a will, waiting for his move to the suicide watch cell.

Derek had started losing sleep now and even though the prison Psychiatrist had visited him to offer drugs to help him do so, Derek hadn't as yet asked for any to be proscribed. Now? He was reconsidering that position.

…

"I'll see you later babe," Charlotte said to Tim as she put her coffee cup in the sink and headed for his front door. As Adam didn't know his address, Charlotte was able to stay there two nights a week. The rest of the time, she was in what Dr Clarkson had called a DASC. Domestic Abuse Shelter Complex. Charlotte had to admit she was impressed by just how secure it actually was. Doormen on all doors, fingerprint, face and voice ID for visitors to gain entrance and they also had to bring a passport or some other form of photo ID. Men were allowed to visit, but only if Charlotte consented and they were escorted by an armed guard all the way up to her flat. They weren't allowed anywhere else and cameras and microphones watched and listened to the complex twenty-four hours a day. Every room inside Charlotte's flat had installed panic buttons, cameras and microphones she could activate discreetly if needed.

"Love you sweetheart," Tim kissed her lips and hugged her close. "Take care and have a good day. Be careful babe."

"I will," Charlotte grinned. "You know me. Dr Clarkson is calling me later to discuss next steps. I think I'll ask to stay in my flat at the DASC for a little longer. I'm not ready to leave yet."

"That's a decision for you to make hon, no one will and should make it for you. You do so when you're ready and not before."

"I love you Tim Jennings," Charlotte said, a lump in her throat. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Love you too C. As for being without me, not a problem because it won't happen. Now go on hon or you'll be late. Are you taking the train today?"

Charlotte considered. "I don't know. I did consider driving, but I think I will take the train for a change, yeah. Nice walk to the station will do me good." Charlotte glanced at her watch. "Shit. I had better go. Will you come and see me tonight?"

"Now what kind of question is that? Of course I will. Miss you already. Love you."

Five minutes later, Charlotte exited Tim's house heading for Haddonfield train station. Her journey to college would take about an hour by train, but it felt so much nicer than driving all the time. Plus the college provided her with a free train pass to get there, so it was stupid not to use it sometimes. She normally only drove if she was running late. Whistling to herself, she started walking, unaware she was being watched every step of the way.

…

The man in the black suit, white shirt and dark blue tie sat in his Jaguar, watching as the target came out of the house he'd been watching for two hours. Adam Dawson had told them last night that sometimes the target took the train in to work. Dawson hadn't been sure of her man's address, but knew his name as Tim Jennings, Charlotte having told him once. But some quick research on an illegal app had found his house soon enough. She came out at 7:15AM and started walking towards the road. They'd had contingency plans in place of course had she indeed decided to drive, but he'd been watching the house carefully since 6AM, and when the target came out and headed for the road, he'd known immediately she was getting the train. If she'd been driving Dawson had said the night before, then she wouldn't come out until almost 9AM, as it only took twenty minutes by car.

Starting his engine, the man settled in to wait. That was all he had to do now, wait.

…

The last 7 days had been some of if not the happiest of Danielle's life. Even in his own silent way, Michael had shown her he cared. Whether it was guiding her to breakfast or in to the exercise yard even while chained, or holding her close at night, he made sure she knew. For her part, she told him more about her life before Adam. How her parents had abandoned her because she was blind, how Charlotte's parents had been amazing and about her life at school. The bullies who'd taunted her, using her blindness as an advantage and tool for their bullying behaviour.

She clearly remembered the Monday afternoon Charlotte had phoned her as soon as she'd finished college.

"So? Come on you, spill! Did you tell him?"

"Yes, I told him last night by the waterfall."

"Oh my God! And?"

"We… we're together now."

"Fuck yes! Fucking awesome Dan! You see? I told you! Very best of luck to both of you! I'll come back down and see you as soon as I can!"

Over the last week, the two friends had spoken three nights running. Charlotte had given her phone to her man Tim, who'd introduced himself. She'd liked him instantly. He sounded like a good guy, funny and attentive to Charlotte. Something both of them had lacked from Adam.

"Remind me not to get on the wrong side of your man," he'd joked. "I don't want to die yet. Would he mind if I met him?"

She had asked Michael if he minded his face on a video call. The killer had said nothing no response of any kind, which she'd taken as consent. Turning on the video, she handed the phone to Michael.

"Wo!" She heard Tim say, sounding almost awestruck. "Nice to meet you Mr. Myers. I've seen your face in enough papers, but you've always been masked then. But damn! I wouldn't want that gaze on me if I was your enemy!"

"Hey Michael," she heard Charlotte's voice in the background. "How are you?"

Charlotte showed Michael the inside of her secure flat and talked to both of them about how her college course was going.

"I'm really glad you're doing so well C," she said sincerely. "You deserve it."

"What are you going to do Dan?" Charlotte asked. "When you're released?"

She felt a lump rise in her throat. In truth, she hadn't even thought about her release, it was too painful. "I don't know," she said truthfully. "I haven't really thought about it. Maybe I'll try and get on a course or get a job, or something."

"I'll help you any way I can," Charlotte said.

"I know, thanks, Michael handed her back her phone and the two talked for a while longer before Charlotte excused herself. Danielle smirked. "Tim time, is it?"

Tim groaned. "Oh Jesus! Don't you start?"

Charlotte giggled. "We get that a lot, Tim time," she laughed. "It drives Tim crazy!"

Tim laughed. "Blame my parents for naming me Tim!"

"Is it actually Tim? like, not Timothy or anything?"

"Nope," Tim sighed dramatically. "Tim on my birth certificate. Even they've joked it was Tim time when I was born!"

"Oh god you poor thing," she said but was laughing.

"Yeah, yeah," Tim laughed with her. "So yes its Tim time!"

Charlotte snorted. "Speak soon Dan, Michael. Night to you both." With a click, she was gone.

…

Now, Charlotte headed down the dark road, her phone the only light. This was the only problem leaving this early, hardly anyone was about on this route. Occasionally a jogger would run past and give her a brief smile, but today it seemed deserted. The refuge had installed an app on her phone which professionally monitored her twenty-four hours a day. She clicked a button to tell them she had her phone and her day was starting and they texted an acknowledgement. From that second on until she said good night, she was monitored round the clock. If she fell and didn't move, the app would send an alert. If she was under duress there was a Settle way to send one, as well as an obvious overt one. She could also sound a very loud alarm and flash a light if she needed help. The monitors would and could then call the police on her behalf. Dr Clarkson had told her she'd spoken to Dr Stark on the phone to get someone to run tests to make sure it was accessible with voiceover. So when she left Smith's Grove, it could be installed and would work on her phone too.

Charlotte turned in to the road she privately hated and chided herself for being paranoid. Ok there was no CCTV here, but she was in no danger and anyway she was being monitored right now. So as she crossed it and saw the Jaguar driving in her direction, she didn't think anything of it. She'd almost reached the other side of the road, when the Jaguar picked up speed. Charlotte did the same and ran towards the safety of the sidewalk. She reached it and breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly some idiot in a posh car thought the road was empty. But to her horror, the speeding Jaguar mounted the sidewalk beside her. Before she could take more than two steps backwards, the driver swung the wheel so he was facing her. She got one glimpse of a man in a suit and tie, and opened her mouth to shout at him to watch the fuck out, but she never got the chance.

There was one second of pure terror as the Jaguar bore down on her, just long enough for her to scream. Then full speed impact, and darkness. Less than a second later, the Jaguar was gone as if it'd never been there.