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night . . . I felt so close to you . . .’
    And I you . . .
    ‘Did you like my present?’
    Loved it . . .
    His little valentine. His declaration of love and intent.

I’M WATCHING OVER YOU

    He’d spent a long time working on that sentence, trying to find words that expressed not only his love for her, but also his devotion. Her own personal guardian angel. And he thought he had achieved it. Proud of it.
    ‘You cried when you saw it . . .’
    I did . . .
    His fingers moved faster at the thought, no longer butterflies in his stomach, more like finches trapped in a barn.
    But then . . .
    That thing caught inside him. That niggle, that thought, working away at him like a worm in an apple . . .
    ‘Oh Rani . . .’
    Sadness overwhelmed him. Like he hadn’t felt for ages, not since . . . before. He tried not to think of it, let his mind go back there. Concentrate on the present. On Rani. On his love. But it was difficult.
    Other memories, other voices, would fill his head and the butterflies, the swallows, would leave his stomach, and something else, something more dangerous, would take their place. A serpent, hard, cold and coiled in the depths of his guts, hissing acid inside him, poisoning him with fear and hate.
    And its voice . . . all that anger, that hate . . . All women are whores . . . every one . . . use them like whores . . . that’s all they’re good for . . .
    ‘No . . . no . . .’
    Cut them, slice them . . .
    It wasn’t him. Not now. Not any more. He had to do something, drive the voice out, repeat his mantra, defeat the snake. ‘Out of the cleansing fire I was born and he was lost . . .’ Keep going . . . ‘Out of the cleansing fire her soul was freed when her body was lost . . .’ Keep going . . . ‘Out of the cleansing fire was born my search and love to be found . . .’
    The snake slithered away, back to the darkness. He heard Rani’s voice once more.
    I’m still here . . .
    Joy flooded his heart. He was hard again. His fingers moved faster, a smile spreading across his face.
    His fingers increased speed, his breathing became heavier. His love’s voice was in his head once more, her face before him.
    Then, gasping and whispering her name, it was all over. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you . . .’ Over and over, gasping and whispering. Sighing and smiling.
    ‘Rani . . . Rani . . .’
    And I love you . . . He voice faded as it always did in these moments. But she would be back. He had no doubt.
    He opened his eyes. Wiped himself off on her knickers, pocketed them for later. He had an idea what to do with them.
    Rani needed another present, another token of his love for her . . .
    He looked round the room, getting dreamy. He could lie here all day. But he had things to do. So he got up, left the bedroom.
    He stood in the hall, looked up at the hatch to the loft. Time to go back. Assume his position watching over Rani, her own guardian angel. But not just yet.
    Down the hall and into the bathroom. Just time for a quick shower.
    Then leave his present where she would find it.
    The Creeper couldn’t wait until Rani came home.
    He had such plans for her . . .

10

    Mickey Philips flipped his notebook shut, put it in his jacket pocket and crossed the road, walking away from the river.
    The businesses along the quay hadn’t yielded up anything of value. Mickey hadn’t been made welcome. When he approached with the uniforms, orders were shouted in languages other than English and bodies dissolved into shadows. Rags were thrown over number plates in workshops, objects were put hastily into desk drawers or beneath counters. He was met with too-wide smiles and helpless shrugs, and eyes that looked anywhere but at him. Even when he told them it was a murder inquiry and that he didn’t care what else they had going on, the smiles dropped but the shrugs continued. No one had seen anything, no one knew anything. He heard it so many times that eventually he thought it might even be the truth.