The Devil You Know by Tyler Terry

Author:Tyler, Terry [Tyler, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amazon, Thriller
Amazon: B01LXQISIY
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2016-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

It was around eleven when the car drew up. Sarah had been thinking of calling it a night; the hidden pocket she'd sewn into her handbag was bulging with notes. She'd smoked a rock earlier (she and Mandy, crouched by the skips behind the packaging warehouse), had the odd snort to keep herself going, and drunk about a quarter of a bottle of vodka, so she felt fairly anaesthetised. One more couldn't hurt, and she liked his car. Once upon a time she would have known what make it was. The driver cruised along, surveying all the girls before making his choice, ignoring those who tried to attract his attention.

He wound down his window. Quite a nice looking fella, as far as she could see in the dim light of the street lamps. Dark. She liked his face. Wearing a hat; well, it was a cold night.

Some vague memory of that serial killer in his hat floated into the back of her mind, but the rest of her was floating, too, nicely apart from reality, and it only danced into her head for a moment before wafting away again.

She approached the window. The smile came easily; she felt good. "Hi, darling, what you after?"

"Just straight."

She quoted a price and he nodded; damn, perhaps she could've got more, seeing as this was her last punter, ever. "I've got a place round the corner."

"Let's go, then."

She sighed with relief as she sank back into the warmth and comfort of the car.

"Nice?" He smiled at her.

"Very." She closed her eyes; the gear and vodka had mixed together just right, to bring on the good feeling. A straightforward fuck; this one should be pretty painless, then she could kick him out, go to sleep, and never do this ever, ever again. "Crow Lane, number five. There's some houses near where you turn into the road, before you get to the garages."

"I know it."

Sarah looked out of the window into the night. When she came out of the clinic she was never coming back here, even if she had to go into a YWCA hostel for a while before she got on her feet. Then she'd go back to Norfolk, where she used to live. Mick would help her, surely.

"Here," she said, as they approached the turn off for Crow Lane.

But the Lyndford Strangler drove straight past.

Sarah sat up, staring back out of the window. "Hey, what are you doing?" She shut her eyes, panic rising in her chest.

Hang on—

The picture in the paper.

The fuzz in her brain cleared.

The picture. The picture.

Oh

God

No

No, no, please God, please don't let this be happening, please, please, not me, don't let this be happening to me—

She turned her head to face him, in terror.

What she'd thought was one of those thermal, pull-on hats was a fucking balaclava, which now covered his face.

He wore black leather gloves, too, and a polo neck jumper. The only part of his body she could see were his dark, dark eyes.

Sarah began to cry, wildly, desperately, tugging at the door handle.

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