Chapter 1

August 31st 2010

He sat across the road in the small recreation park. He had been there for just under an hour. From his vantage point in the gazebo, where he’d taken shelter from the rain, he could clearly see her moving around, inside the café. He knew she’d be leaving for home soon. He looked at his watch. Not long now.

A single-decker bus, heading for the Market Square Shopping Centre, splashed through the puddles and stopped at the traffic lights, momentarily blocking his view. When it moved off, he saw her standing outside on the pavement. She waited until the road was clear, then hurried across to the parking area, close to where he sat. He felt a surge of excitement pulsate through his body. He watched her open the door of her blue Mini Minor, get in, and drive off. He was in no hurry to go after her. He knew where she lived. He also knew she’d be alone. A tremendous thrill of achievement ran through him when he thought of how long it had taken him to plan this anniversary.

Maureen Newman lay on the couch, her eyes covered with a black mask to block out any light. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the wet afternoon. Her migraine had started just before leaving work. As she lay there, her medication began to kick in and the ache eased slightly.

The man, standing in the rain, also felt pain. His was a different kind. Out of the wind came more whispered voices. Coming out from his hiding place in the alley, he looked around to see if the street was clear, then, without any hesitation, walked across the road. The old lady he had spoken to a few minutes earlier had retreated into her house. He’d seen her before. All those he worked with knew she showed early signs of dementia. He’d just watched her prove it. What kind of idiot would go out in the rain to water pot plants? She had accepted the excuse he gave for being out in the street, without question. He wasn’t worried about her, because, soon, she would forget he was ever there.

At the gate of number twelve, he looked around, then walked up the garden path. Before knocking, he took one last look up and down the street. It was still deserted. He turned and knocked.

The knocking brought her out of her fragmented dream. Moaning about unwanted callers, she slowly sat up then swung her legs over the side of the couch. The knocking continued. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she walked unsteadily down the hall. Seeing her reflection in the hall mirror, she patted her hair in place and adjusted the collar of her dress, then went to un-latch the door. She opened it wide. She stood looking up into his wet, smiling face. It took her a few moments to register who it was.

‘Oh! It’s you!’ she