Very Nearly Dead: an addictive psychological suspense thriller by AK Reynolds

Author:AK Reynolds [Reynolds, AK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 2019-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

4

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Patience and stealth – these are the qualities required for the job I’ve set myself. Namely, keeping watch over Jasmine and following her around, getting to know her routines.

Last night I waited in my car for three hours before she emerged from her house. It would’ve taxed the resources of a lesser person, but I stuck to the job without faltering. That’s because I’m highly motivated. There’s a lot hanging on this.

She drove to the Crystal Palace Police Station with me following at a discreet distance. She didn’t notice she was being tailed – she never does. Jasmine isn’t very observant, probably because she’s a lush, and drink is all she thinks about. It’s one of the things I’ve learnt about her recently. During the week I’ve been monitoring her movements, she’s bought enough wine to hold a party every day, but as she doesn’t see anyone, she must be drinking it all herself. Strange habit, if you ask me. Still, I’m not interested in judging her habits. There’s only one agenda I want to pursue: her death.

She turned into the police station car park and I tucked my car discreetly among the other cars on the street, facing the direction I knew she’d take to go home when she was done. She was in there an hour, no doubt doing her best to prise a criminal from the tight embrace of the law. I eventually saw her pull out of the car park in her blue Audi.

On her way home she took a detour into the car park outside O’Shaughnessy’s pub, and I realised I might have been presented with the perfect opportunity to erase her from the planet. It’d be somewhat opportunistic, but sometimes life is like that. You plan things when you can, but that shouldn’t rule out taking your chances when they come.

I drove past O’Shaughnessy’s and parked on the street nearby, just in case they kept a CCTV record of their parking area. I got out, taking my stash of GHB with me. The way I saw it was that if I was able to administer it, there’d be a better than evens chance she’d die of the stuff, or leave O’Shaughnessy’s and plough fatally into the nearest brick wall, or similar obstruction, on her way home.

I’d taken the precaution of disguising my appearance, as I always do when I’m stalking someone. Moreover my car can’t be traced back to me. It was a second-hand Ford Fiesta – just about the most common car on the road – and the registered keeper didn’t exist.

I was wearing a black baseball hat pulled down low over my eyes, a black bomber-jacket, and grey cargo pants with black trainers. My wraparound sunglasses were a somewhat incongruous touch, given that it was 10.55pm, but who cared? What mattered was they hid my features rather well, and the lenses weren’t too dark to see through at night.

I entered O’Shaughnessy’s looking like a chav from the local housing

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