Eeny Meeny by M.J. Arlidge

Author:M.J. Arlidge [Arlidge, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Women Sleuths, Crime, Crime Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers, Literature & Fiction, Women's Fiction, Detective, Espionage, Murder, Murder & Mayhem, Mystery & Detective, Mystery & Suspense
ISBN: 9781405914871
Google: 4QZaAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1405914874
Goodreads: 17860826
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2014-05-07T23:00:00+00:00

60

Caroline’s whole body was rigid, her ears straining for sounds of movement. It was four days since she’d been liberated and she’d hardly slept a wink since. Visions of Martina played in her head – the gasping for breath, the bulging eyes – but it was fear that was really keeping her awake. The euphoria of survival had slowly given way to a gnawing terror. Why had she been released? What terrible fate awaited her now that she had proved herself to be a killer?

Caroline had discharged herself from hospital as soon as they would let her and hurried back to her flat. She needed to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. But Sharon had taken one look at her and fled to her parents, despite Caroline begging her to stay. Looking in the mirror later, Caroline understood why her roomie had fled. She looked crazed and inhuman, the walking dead. All life had been sucked from her – she was pale, ghostly and utterly incoherent. She hadn’t been able to find the words to describe her ordeal – the endless stream of obscenities and non-sequiturs had made little sense.

Left alone, her doubts and fears started to multiply. Racking her brains, she eventually summoned the memory of a guy who could fix you up with anything you wanted and she hurried to his squat, casting fevered glances over her shoulder every five seconds. Her hand was shaking when she used the cash machine, but she’d got what she needed. £500 was enough to get her a gun and six bullets. Walking home with the gun in her bag, she felt relieved. She would at least be armed and ready if – when – the crisis came.

The days passed slowly but without incident, and before long she was so crazed by her own company that she attempted to return to work. Her punters were clearly alarmed by her appearance, wanting to know where she’d been, why she was so skinny, so distracted, but she bullshitted them. Sold them some drab lies and tried to concentrate on the job in hand. All the time she was drinking. And drinking. Vodka, whisky, beer, anything. It’s hard to give someone a handjob when your hands are shaking.

She didn’t feel much guilt any more, just fear. Cyn was still out there somewhere. The God-like Cyn who had played with her life, made her into a murderer, was still out there. Every creak of the floorboard, every door slamming made Caroline jump. Last night, she’d been so startled by a firecracker going off that she’d started to cry in front of a client. The look of confusion on his face as he hurried out made up Caroline’s mind and she legged it home – it had been a mistake to come back to work so soon.

Which is why she was now back in her flat, the covers pulled up to her neck, her hand reaching out to the gun that lay on the table beside her. Someone was trying to get into the flat.

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