Читать книгу Tick Tock: The gripping new crime thriller from the million copy bestseller - Mel Sherratt - Страница 13

She stood in her tiny kitchen looking out of the window. There were three boys playing football on the green down in front of her, two jumpers on the grass to mark the goal. Their shouts didn’t bother her, but she’d only give them a few more minutes before someone came out and moved them on. She remembered that feeling well – a sense of no one wanting you around, not fitting in anywhere but having nowhere else to go.

The flat she was in was her fifth rental since she’d left home at sixteen, and it felt right. It was a maisonette really, upstairs in a block of four. Two up and two down, with tiny shared gardens back and front, and her own front door at the side. This had been one of the better places she’d stayed in over the years. The wallpaper wasn’t peeling from the walls. The carpets didn’t stick to her feet – hell, even having carpets had been a bonus. The furnishing wasn’t too old-fashioned and there was no scratching as a result of bed bugs in the mattress.

The tenant downstairs was Arnie Jerold. He was in his eighties and apart from having his TV on full blast most evenings, she had no complaints. Arnie also looked after the garden and didn’t mind sharing it with her.

Last summer, she’d drunk many a glass of something cold with him as well, to pass the time. She liked him and the tales he told her of his family. He didn’t have many visitors, but his two sons came once a fortnight and for that he was grateful. They took him out for Sunday lunch with the family. It was enough, he’d tell her.

He’d asked about her life and she’d told him all of it, knowing he wouldn’t believe her. He’d smirked and she’d laughed, and then she’d told him a whole bunch of lies about a happier, made-up life. Arnie seemed to like her but he only saw the woman that she wanted him to see and not who she really was.

After the boys on the green had scored five goals, she poured another glass of wine, congratulating herself on fooling people again. She was so good at it now – a player, she liked to call herself. So far, everything was working out to plan – even better, actually. She’d chosen him well and he was like putty in her hands. He was turning into a great disciple. It had taken time to find him, but after several aborted attempts she had found the right one.

She remembered a few of the men she had tried to lure into her game. Trevor Wilde had lived up to his name, been willing to do a lot with her sexually, but after she’d tried to asphyxiate him once, she’d never seen him again. He’d turned white and practically ran out of the flat, even though she had told him what she was about to do and he’d agreed.

Then there was Lester Baker. Now, he was really weird and she hadn’t liked him at all, but had gone through with everything in case he was the one. In the end, he’d turned out not to be.

But this one? He had stayed the test of time. She’d been able to mould him, manipulate him into what she wanted. So far, so good. And her man had been pleased, too.

She logged onto the website with anticipation. She had found ‘All Talk’ three years ago and it had been perfect for her to recruit from. It was a website for people who wanted more sex in their lives by fantasising and talking about it online.

She’d lurked in the background while she got to know who to concentrate on. She’d read comments before joining in with the better conversations. Then after a while she’d been invited into some of the secret forums and message boards, where eventually she’d been able to plant seeds of her own.

She wondered if it was too late in the day to chat to WildWoman73. And she doubted NightRider24 would be online now. Timing was out for both of them.

But there would be others online, she was sure.