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over with such venom. She had had to listen to him, she had to do what he told her to do. He was much stronger than her, totally superior to her through strength alone, and he made sure she knew it by his merciless relentless savagery. He showed no sympathy, no remorse for the sadistic way he acted out his fantasies upon her. He used her like a sex slave and had deliberately prolonged the torture before he butchered her. He looked skyward, at the thought she had seen him. “She fucking saw me, that fucking dirty bitch can fucking identify me, ffuuuccccckkk.” His voice bellowed out from within his house, easily audible out in the street but he didn’t care.

Chapter 6: Groundwork
    Taylor and Marcus headed out to take a statement from Mrs Forrest, the wife of the deceased found in the garden of 15 Grainger Loan, Edinburgh. They were aware that the incident was so recent that getting the information they needed would be difficult, as the pain of her loss would still be clouding her senses, and her emotions would be raw. Marcus sipped at his coffee, as Taylor drove; they were both really tired as sleep was way down the list of their priorities. They worked countless hours to enable the continuity of their enquiries, hours required for everybody to get positive results.
    They pulled up at the house and as they walked up the driveway a slight looking, well dressed older woman opened the door in front of them. She knew that they were coming, as Taylor had arranged the visit earlier in the day, to prevent her being needlessly alarmed. Mrs Forrest welcomed them in to her home, a single-storied bungalow two streets away from Susan’s house. She led them through to the sitting room where a dog basket lay noticeably empty in the corner of the room. The room was smartly furnished, everything was neatly in its place, with beautiful ornaments in the cabinets, well polished and obviously wellcared for. There were two single chairs, very upright and high off the ground. They were close by one another. The sofa looked rather redundant, unused and in perfect condition compared to the two chairs, their position sad to look at now, with one never to be filled again.
    Mrs Forrest offered her guests a seat on the sofa before sitting down on one of the single chairs. She lowered her head and looked at the empty chair at her side, his chair, her beloved loyal friend and loving husband’s chair. She raised a hankie to her eyes as tears began to roll down her flushed cheeks. She spoke in a quaking voice. “He never came back. He was always on time. He was only out for his usual walk, same time every night just before bed.”
    Marcus asked, “What time was it he left the house?”
    “About 10.30 pm, he just gives Angel, that was our dog’s name, a stretch of her legs before we usually go to bed. He follows the same route every night. It’s quiet around here, there’s never any trouble! I phoned the police an hour after he didn’t return and they sent someone round a while later, not immediately though, because I told them there would be some sort of logical explanation and I suppose I made it seem that he was in no immediate danger, well I didn’t have any reason to. If only I’d known!”
    Marcus spoke softly to Mrs Forrest; his tone was comforting and reassuring, and he tried to let her know she wasn’t alone.
    Taylor on the other hand cut in asking about the dog. “Would your dog try to protect both of you if any of you were in any sort of danger?”
    “She was a kind dog, strong and loyal. We never really had a situation where she would have to protect us, but she might do,” Mrs Forrest said. “Why do you ask?”
    “I think your husband and your dog may have disturbed our suspect while he was waiting for Susan!”
    “Oh that poor girl, I watched the television you know, what she went through. My Arthur was lucky in a strange sort of way, compared to her demise anyway, at least his death appeared to have been quick, but still