‘So they’re on his tail?’

‘If you mean do they know where he is? Well, no, they don’t. But you see. I do. I know where he is.’

She felt that delicious thrill again.

‘Tell me. Where is he?’

‘You sure you want to know?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘What will you do with the information? I don’t want to waste it.’

‘I won’t waste it.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘Okay. Do you need a pen a paper?’

‘No, just tell me,’ she snapped. She felt her head swimming, her brain burning.

‘No need to loose your temper, now.’

She bit her tongue, tasting blood.

‘Let’s see, yes, here we are. He’s staying in a motel, the Grand. Unfortunate name, I admit, as I’m not sure it ever was. Certainly isn’t now.’

She took a deep breath. She had to try and modulate her voice.

‘The address?’

‘1437 Bundy Drive, West LA.’

She was about to cut the line.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Aren’t you going to thank me?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’

61

Kate stared at Cassie as she slept. God, she hoped she would be okay. She had always thought her friend’s recovery had been too quick, too easy. At first she had put it down to Cassie’s remarkable ability to fight back against all the odds, her extraordinary will to survive. After all, she had been forced to toughen up, refusing to be beaten first by the onset of blindness and then by Gleason. And, for a while, it looked as though, once her physical injuries had healed, she would be fine. But then, however, on the day she was due to leave hospital to be transferred to a secure location everything changed.

It had begun with a few silent tears, then her body was attacked by a constant wave of trembling until, finally, her whole being was wracked by a series of sobs. Kate had tried to calm her down, reassure her that she was safe, that neither Gleason nor his monstrous offspring could harm her, but it was no use. She seemed certain that the killer was in the room with her. She said that he was so close she could taste his foul breath on her lips. The touch of him was so alive in her fingers, she said, that it felt as though he was raping her. She could not see him, of course, but somehow he had inveigled his way into her very being. The medics had said she was so in danger of mental collapse that they had been forced to tranquilise her.

Kate ran her hand over Cassie’s brow and watched her eyelids flutter as she dreamt. Her only fear was that, on awakening, Cassie would not be able to escape the nightmare.

62

He never thought he could gain so much satisfaction from observing one person watch another. It was as if the man and the woman had sprung fully formed from his imagination and transformed themselves into real people. Flesh and blood.

He was sitting in his car with a pair of binoculars raised to his face. Through them he could see Susan Gable in her car, waiting outside the single-storey West LA motel. Inside room 47 was Ryan Gleason.

What would she be thinking right now? Had she already formulated a plan, he wondered. How would she do it? Would she use a gun, a knife, her bare hands or what? And what were the odds of her killing him? A mother’s rage was certainly not to be underestimated. But she was a small, slight woman. And her target was a ruthless psychopath with a wide range of particularly cruel tricks.

What would he do in her position? Try and surprise him. Yes, that would be best approach. Simply tap on the door and pretend she was looking for her friend. Was this not room 46. Gee, she was sorry, she must be mistaken. Then she could quickly take out her gun from her purse and blast his brains out.

Or would she make him suffer? Would she want to luxuriate in her revenge? Stretch it out over a period of time so she could really feel the full benefit? She might shoot him in the shoulder, disarm him, tie him to a chair in the motel room and then inflict a number of subtle tortures on him.

Just what was she capable of? Was she made of the same stuff as him? He genuinely hoped so. He was looking forward to the entertainment.

63

Kate was by her bedside when Cassie opened her eyes. She stroked and soothed her forehead, held her shoulders gently, and listened to her cries.

‘It was awful,’ she repeated. ‘The dream.’

‘I’m here,’ said Kate. ‘You’re safe. The nightmare’s over.’

She continued to hold her in her arms as Cassie went back to sleep, peacefully, naturally. When she awoke again, her eyes still wet with tears, she was able to drink a little water.

‘How long was it that I slept for?’ asked Cassie, her voice still groggy, her throat dry and sore.

‘Just a little while,’ lied Kate. She said nothing about the worries of the medics or the tranquilisers.

‘I’m scared, Kate,’ whispered Cassie.

Kate looked towards the two police guards stationed either side of the private room. Downstairs, at reception, there were another couple of cops. And at the entrance to the ward were a clutch of undercover detectives.

‘Cassie, you’re safe. No-one is going to get to you here. The place is full of cops.’

‘I’m not worried about myself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m worried about you.’