Copycat by Diane Saxon

Author:Diane Saxon [Saxon, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

Before Fliss noticed, Jenna flicked the screen off and shoved the phone into her pocket again. Perhaps she’d made a mistake allowing him to have her number. It wasn’t fair to let him think she was available, even if she was. She needed to redirect her thoughts away from Adrian and free up her hormones so they could trot after someone else.

26

Saturday 8 February, 21:25 hours

Where the fuck was she? Just where the fuck?

Shrouded in dark, he slipped in through the back window of Carla’s house, the old, loose frame not so difficult to prise open. Each time he entered, it was a risk, but he needed to check what he already assumed was true.

She’d gone.

Bolted.

Anger seethed beneath the surface as he peered into each empty room, clinging onto the wild explosion of anger which threatened to destroy his iron control.

On silent feet, he sneaked upstairs to check, panning the light from his torch around the darkened hall and into the bedroom.

She’d taken the fucking cat. If she hadn’t, he’d have slit its fucking neck, skinned it and left it hanging from the false oak beam in her living room to teach her a lesson, a small one before the ultimate one.

He clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw popped.

She’d gone.

Fury leapt out to put a stranglehold on his throat. Desperate to release the wild howl, he flung back his head and let it burst out in a torrent of frustration.

‘Carla,’ he yowled.

Louder.

Veins, muscles, sinew all stretched to snapping point.

‘Carla!’

He bolted down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. No longer in control, he slammed on the light, oblivious to whether anyone could see the glimmer of it through the blind he quickly yanked down. He didn’t care. She’d ruined the plans he had for her.

His wild gaze skimmed around for something to break, anything to throw, smash, destroy. He snatched the small bone-china coffee mug she’d used that morning and placed upside down on the drainer. The one she used for her precious fucking espresso coffee.

He flung it with all his might, satisfaction warming his chest as it exploded up the wall, tiny golden fragments of china shattering over the floor.

A small sense of gratification curled in his belly, but it wasn’t enough.

He pulled his lips back in a snarl and whipped his head around in search of something else. Something to rip apart.

Carla had OCD and never left anything out on the surfaces, except the espresso machine. He snatched it up and yanked the plug from the socket, lifted it to shoulder height and then froze.

His breath soughed in and out to burn his lungs. His flesh tingled. The pain in his right eye stabbed through from his brain and his arms went numb as the migraine hit.

He crumpled to the floor, electrical circuits frying in his brain, and every thought process melted away. He loosened his grip on the espresso machine and pushed it away as he sank his head onto his knees and waited. There was nothing else he could do but wait.

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