The Serial Killer's Wife by Alice Hunter (best romantic novels to read .txt) 📗

mind. They mix with Jimmy’s words, too: Tom was having an affair. They all combine, and I dream vividly. Tom, Camilla, lying in each other’s arms. Blood-soaked sheets, blue-tinged lips, deep red gouges around a pale neck. Arms and legs bound to bed posts, Tom thrusting himself into her, shouting out her name as he climaxes, his hands around her throat. Camilla struggling to get air into her lungs, thrashing her body, grasping at her throat as she takes her final breath.

I awake, drenched in sweat, to a scream piercing through the stillness of the night.

Chapter 71

She’s barely had time to shower before he comes back. Seeing him at her door again so soon confuses her.

‘Did you forget something?’ she asks, letting him in.

She notices he’s carrying a briefcase; he hadn’t had that just now.

He sets it on the floor and closes the door, locking it. Her insides quiver. What’s happening? He never visits her more than once in one day, and never after four.

‘I think the seven-year itch might well be a thing, you know,’ he tells her as he bends down and snaps open the metal clasps on the case. There’s something about the loud clack as each one springs open, like a bullet being fired from a gun, that steals the saliva from her mouth.

She swallows hard. ‘Is that how long you’ve been with Beth?’ she says, instinctively backing away as she speaks, unsure of his intentions. Her gut tells her this situation isn’t one she’ll have control over.

He lets out a prolonged sigh. She catches its almost sarcastic tone, and realises too late what’s in store. He’s pulling out a piece of rope – slowly, deliberately twisting it in his hands. He stands up, smiling. ‘You know too much.’

‘No. No … I don’t … I don’t know what you mean.’ Panic grips to her words.

‘You know my wife’s name. You know why I come here. And I’ve shared too much.’ He moves swiftly towards her now, and as she turns to run, she screams. His hands are over her mouth in a split second – so fast she swears he must be superhuman. As he stands jutted up against her back, he whispers, ‘Shh, don’t,’ into her hair, then inhales deeply. The rope loops around her neck. ‘You know I can’t do this with Beth. You’re the only one I can be myself with.’

The rope isn’t tight yet – she can still get out of this, if she stays calm. She’s been ready for this type of situation for a while now. She must keep him talking. Make him believe she’s on his side.

‘I’ve always let you do the things you can’t with your wife. Like you say, you can be yourself with me. You need me. I need you, too, as it happens.’ Her words are shaky, but at least she has the ability to speak. For now.

‘Yes, I can tell. I can see you. Properly, I mean. Not what you show other people, but what’s inside you. You really did mean something to me.’

The past tense. She no longer means something to him? Or is the past tense what she’s to become? ‘I’m thirty-four years old and I’m saving up to get out of this place – I’ve got dreams, things I want to accomplish. You and me – we could carry on seeing each other. And not just here, somewhere better; somewhere classy. I could give you what you want.’

His laugh stops her speaking.

‘Don’t worry. You are going to give me what I want.’ He runs his tongue from her neck to her ear. ‘You are giving me your life.’

Tears bubble and fall. She’s not going to talk him around. If he wants to end her life right here and now, there’s nothing she can say or do to stop him.

Apart from the gun in her bedside table. If only she could reach it.

‘Why don’t we take this into the bedroom. You can tie me to the bed?’

It’s a risky move, but her only hope. He pulls her backwards roughly by the rope and her legs grapple on the floor to get traction while her hands grasp the loop, trying to keep it from strangling her.

‘I’ve been with Beth for eight years. But it’s when I hit that seven-year mark that things became more of a struggle. Keeping my desires to myself; my real self hidden; it was problematic – which is when I found you. It struck me recently – I don’t know why it took so long before the thing inside me wanted more. I killed Phoebe in a fit of rage and hated myself for years. But when it happened again, when Katie cheated on me, I knew I needed to kill again. And I enjoyed giving her what she deserved.’ He pulls her to the bed, yanks her up. ‘It’d been seven years since Phoebe. See the pattern?’

She rolls to one side, closer to the bedside cabinet. This is her chance.

‘Hey, what are you trying to do?’ He wraps the rope around his forearm and jerks it hard, snapping her head backwards.

She groans, falling onto her back.

This is it, she thinks as she stares up at the ceiling. At the damp patch that’s still there, despite asking her landlord a thousand times. It’s my fault. She knew Tom was bad news from their first encounter. Her own weird, twisted thinking had brought her here. The danger was exhilarating at times; the highs had seemed worth the risk.

Not now, though.

‘Thank you for helping me. For keeping me on the right path for this long. My wife and child appreciate it.’

‘Your wife and child will leave you and you’ll die alone.’

He puts all of his weight on her, pressing his thighs against hers, squashing her. The rope begins to tighten. She only has moments left. Her thoughts lose focus. He’s left his suit jacket on. He’s fully clothed. He’s not going to have sex with