Mr Nice: a chilling psychological thriller by John Nicholl

Author:John Nicholl [Nicholl, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thriller and mystery
Published: 2020-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

22

Heath was experiencing a heady mix of expectation and nervousness, as he hurried along the narrow, tree-lined path at the rear of Megan’s home, and running past the adjoining properties towards the nearby park. He checked to the right and left, searching for non-existent witnesses with quick darting eyes for a full thirty seconds, before scrambling up and over the six-foot-high wall, which separated the stone-strewn path from Megan’s back garden. Heath rushed across the overgrown lawn, his pack on his back, unable to believe his luck when a sleek, jet-black tomcat crossed his path, the same, diamond-bright eyed feline creature he’d seen when entering the house only days before. He took the sighting as a positive sign. A sign that both Lady Luck and destiny were on his side and cheering him on. All of a sudden, his nerves had gone.

Heath’s confidence was soaring as he approached the back of the house. He wasn’t expecting to find a partially open window this time. But he’d planned accordingly. He took a steel claw hammer and six-inch masonry nail from his backpack before slowly approaching the double-glazed door. He briefly considered attempting to enter that way, but then decided to break the same window through which he previously entered, simply because it amused him to do so. He was keen to give both Megan and the police the clear message that a closed window was no obstacle to him, because of his almost infinite predatory powers.

A closed window didn’t keep Megan safe. Nothing kept her safe. She was in terrible danger, potentially fatal danger. And he wanted her to know it. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to and nobody could stop him. He thought it and believed it. Now it was time to show the world.

Heath placed the point of the nail in the bottom right-hand corner of the windowpane before striking the top with a single sharp blow of the hammer. The double-glazed unit shattered immediately, allowing him to reach through the gap, turn the handle and open the white plastic frame wide. He returned both the hammer and nail to his backpack before glancing behind him.

Was that the sound of someone in an adjoining garden? He flinched.

He listened intently, straining his ears, waiting until reassured by the silence, before scrambling through the open frame head first, and then lowering himself to the kitchen floor with a muted call of triumph. He drank water at the tap, strode across the red-tiled kitchen, through the comfortably furnished lounge, and into the hallway.

Heath laughed on seeing a twelve-by-eight-inch framed colour photo of Lottie’s smiling face hanging on the wall, in pride of place next to the door. He studied the picture for a few seconds, thinking how different his captive now looked, without that yellow hair, and behind the bars. He edged a few inches closer to the photo and then repeatedly spat on the glass, masking the image in saliva, before climbing the stairs.

Heath went straight to Lottie’s room.

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