Free Too Close For Comfort by Adam Croft

what I think right now. All I know is that I'm in a very
sticky situation to say the least.”
     
    Later that
night, as Wendy tried to drift off to sleep, recurring visions kept
flashing in front of her eyes. First the face of Ella Barrington,
then Robert's books. Then Maria Preston, then the books. Then
Nicole Bryant. Then the books. How could she have been so foolish? I should have spotted the signs earlier , she surmised. Some detective. Her heart juddered as a sudden thought
entered her mind. What if Ludford had intended her to be the next
victim? What if that was still his intention? What if he was
completely mad? How could Culverhouse insist that she carry on
seeing a potential serial killer? Was he mad? Or was she mad for thinking that a completely innocent man – the
first man she'd let get close to her in years – was a serial
killer? As she tried to comprehend her thoughts, the phone
rang.
    “Yes?”
    “Culverhouse
here. Listen, Knight. We've got a bit of a problem on our hands
now. There's been a fourth victim.”
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
NINETEEN
     
    The lack of
sleep didn't help Wendy one iota as she walked into the incident
room to meet with Culverhouse in the light of the latest
killing.
    “Sorry, Knight.
Unfortunately people aren't considerate enough to wait until
daylight to get murdered.”
    “Is it
fresh?”
    “No, she was
killed the night before last. The pathologist reckons it was
between seven in the evening and three in the morning.”
    “Do we have a
positive ID?”
    “We do. Another
easy one. It's starting to look like the killer wants these
girls to be identified but I can't figure out for the life of me
why. Grace Norris, an eighteen-year-old college student. A devout
Catholic and local church volunteer. On the plus side: another
Bible basher off our streets. On the other hand: bang goes my
prossie theory.”
    “So you're
finally accepting that Nicole Bryant wasn't a prostitute?”
    “No, I'm
accepting that Grace Norris wasn't a prostitute.”
    Wendy sighed
and shook her head. “Definitely the same M.O.?”
    “Without a
shadow of a doubt. Absolutely identical.”
    “So what the
hell does link these women?”
    “If I knew
that, Knight, I wouldn't be farting about here at three o'clock in
the bastard morning. I'd be tucked up in my jim-jams with a mug of
Horlicks.”
    Tell me
about it , she wanted to say.
    “Oh, but SOCO
said there was one slight deviation from the M.O.”
    “Right. So not
absolutely identical after all?”
    “Oh no – it was
absolutely identical alright. But this time he raped her.”
    “ Raped her? He's not raped them before.”
    “I know that,
Knight. Hence the slight deviation.”
    “But why
now?”
    “It looks as
though he's stepping up his game. We've got some sort of cat and
mouse game on our hands.”
    “Did SOCO say
whether intercourse occurred pre- or post-mortem?”
    “If you mean
did the bastard shag her when she was dead, we don't know yet.
We're still waiting for forensics to get their turkey basters
out.”
    They examined
the profiles of each victim, one by one. Their photographs were
laid out on the table in front of them, a joyful family photo
juxtaposed with the anguished death mask of each woman. Each letter
of each of their names struck fear and anger into Wendy's gut.
     
    ELLA
BARRINGTON
    MARIA
PRESTON
    NICOLE
BRYANT
    GRACE
NORRIS
     
    So their names
were getting shorter. Ella Barrington: fourteen letters. Maria
Preston: twelve letters. Nicole Bryant: twelve letters. Grace
Norris: eleven letters. Would the next victim's name have ten
letters in it? Would he finally stop killing once he'd found
someone with a two-letter name? Wendy told herself this was a
ridiculous theory and cursed her lack of sleep.
    As the minutes
and hours ticked by, conversation returned to Robert Ludford.
    “Guv, I'm
really not sure about this whole idea of getting involved with him.
If he really is the murderer, he's stepped up his game big time
with this one. I