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Kim could only surmise that they were meetings that had been arranged but had never taken place.
Except there was another one. In the diary two days before she was murdered. Only this M didn’t have a line through it.
TWENTY
Terence’s heart was still beating out of his chest when he closed the front door behind him.
If his mother was still alive, he’d be forced to run upstairs to his room and compose himself in private, but her recent passing from a stroke meant he could express himself in any room of the house.
And right now he was exhilarated.
He had known it would happen one day. He’d been sure that someone else would come into his life with whom he would feel that instant connection. For a while he’d wondered if Sandy could be the one, but he’d seen something cold in her eyes when she looked at him: distaste, repulsion. It had angered him, and now she would never look at anyone like that again.
It was anger that had driven him toherhome earlier. He’d wanted to frighten her for implying that his love for Charlotte had been anything but pure.
He had known from the moment he’d seen Charlotte that she was the one for him, and he’d done everything within his power to show his devotion.
That first smile had beguiled him. It had captured him in its thrall. He had felt a frisson of excitement, an electricity burn through his body. That one smile had thrown a collar around his neck and bound him to her for eternity.
Immediately, he had begun trying to prove his love for her. He had watched her house so that whenever she looked outside, she would see him, know that he was there protecting her.
She had noticed his presence and closed the curtains. He had breathed a long, contented sigh of satisfaction that she had known she would never be alone again. That she could sleep soundly in her bed.
It hadn’t been enough for her. She had wanted him to prove himself worthy and he understood that. From that point on, everything had been a test. A hurdle for him to clear to show his affection.
The game had begun.
She had left clues in her rubbish for him to follow. A ripped-up telephone bill that he’d been able to painstakingly tape back together. A letter from her employer detailing the annual rise to her salary. Receipts that told him where she liked to eat, what she liked to buy from the supermarket. All breadcrumbs left specifically so he could prove his commitment to her.
From the pieced-together phone bill he’d got her number. She had read the first few texts but not replied. With each unanswered text, he had tried harder to communicate his devotion. When she’d blocked his number, it had just meant that she wanted him to try harder. That was okay. She was worth the effort.
When the police had arrived and advised him to stay away from her home, he had known she was pushing him to see how far he would go.
When he’d been arrested, he’d tried to explain to the police how she was using them to demonstrate her love.
They hadn’t understood. Neither had the judge or his fellow inmates. It didn’t matter. He stopped trying to explain it to them. As long as she knew, it was fine.
He remembered how shocked he’d been when he’d been released from prison to learn that she no longer lived at the same address. The rage had filled every fibre of his being. He hadn’t been there to protect her from whatever had made her leave her home. The idiot police had been too busy incapacitating him, and she’d suffered in his absence.
Luckily, he had known where she worked and had been able to find her again. He hadn’t shown himself to her immediately. He had wanted to wait until he’d been able to follow her home, so that he could reassure her he was back and that he would never leave her again.
His heart had soared when she’d looked out of the bedroom window and their gazes had locked. He had known in that moment that he would do anything, climb any mountain, cross any sea to show his worthiness of her love.
She needed more and he was prepared to give it.
He messaged her. She blocked him. He bought another phone. He messaged her. She blocked him. He sent her flowers. She threw them out. He sent her different flowers. She threw them out.
The dance continued until one day she was gone.
She no longer worked at the same office and she no longer lived at the same address. Overnight she had been taken away and no one knew where she’d gone.
His heart had broken and he knew that wherever she was, she was feeling the exact same way. He had done everything he could to protect her, to show his love and prove himself worthy, but somehow she’d been taken away.
He’d always known that it was only a matter of time until another would take her place.
It hadn’t been hard to find out where she lived. She’d given him her full name and he’d just searched the electoral register. He’d already been waiting when her colleague dropped her outside the house. He’d watched from across the road as she’d fiddled with her keys to let herself inside.
When he’d seen her and the other woman leave the house, he’d expected them to be gone for longer. Their return had taken him by surprise, but he’d managed to grab a handful of rubbish from her bin, which he would forensically dissect later. Even though he had brushed past her, he was sure she hadn’t recognised him, and he was glad. It was too soon.
