Free Gone Astray by Michelle Davies

out.’
    Maggie shot her an odd look.
    ‘You told me earlier that Rosie wasn’t allowed out with her friends in the evenings. Your husband’s strict about that kind of thing, isn’t he? If she doesn’t go out
and it’s not for just wearing around the house, what occasion did you buy it for?’
    Lesley bit her lip. She’d said too much.

8
    He didn’t bother to shower or even change out of his shorts and singlet before heading home. Perversely, he wanted people to smell the sex on him. Would they be scared if
they knew what he was capable of? They should be.
    His encounter with the woman at the gym had been perfunctory but satisfying. She hadn’t taken too kindly to his handling of her and got upset when he’d pushed her face-forward over a
stack of boxes filled with leaflets advertising the gym and fucked her from behind. What was she expecting, he laughed afterwards when she slapped him across the face and complained he’d hurt
her. Foreplay? They were in a store cupboard at a municipal gym, not a suite at the Ritz. Close to tears, she slapped him again. He walked out then, leaving her alone to struggle back into her pink
Lycra.
    Women like her were all the same, he justified. Rich and arrogant, she’d batted her eyelashes at him, made it clear she was up for some fun then took offence when it was on his terms, not
hers. She wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened, though, of that he was certain. She wouldn’t risk her husband finding out, whoever the idiot was. He also doubted he’d see her at
the gym again.
    It was gone three when he got home. On a whim he’d taken a detour, just to make sure he hadn’t left anything incriminating behind linking him to the girl, but the police were
everywhere and he couldn’t get near the place. He’d try again tomorrow.
    Unlocking his front door and pushing it open, the first thing he saw was the overnight bag he’d packed and left at the bottom of the stairs, ready for his departure. His passport was lying
on top so he wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t need either of them now, nor did he have any use for the freshly laundered shirt, suit and tie on the coat hanger dangling from the door
frame between the hall and the kitchen. He grabbed the hanger and tossed the whole lot onto the floor in a crumpled heap.
    In the kitchen, he ran the cold tap for a minute before filling a pint glass with water. As he glugged it down, he peered through the kitchen window to make sure the burner that still cradled
the ashes of his and the girl’s garments was in the garden where he’d left it. He knew there was no reason why it wouldn’t be, but months of taking steroids had heightened his
sense of paranoia as well as his sex drive and he was no longer trustful of anything or anyone.
    Draining the glass, he set it down on the side and went back into the hall. His phone was in a side pocket of his gym bag. He’d already worked out in his head what he was going to say and
within seconds he’d typed and sent the text:
    Had 2 cancel trip. Boss sending me to Basingstoke 2mw 4 client mtg. Let’s talk 2nite.
    He spent the next ten minutes in a state of agitation, worried she’d call straight back to demand a fuller explanation when he needed more time to get his story straight. There was no
client meeting – no boss, even – but she didn’t know that. She thought he was an accountant, that he lived in south London and his name was Simon. All lies, carefully constructed
to reel her in.
    After twenty minutes he began to relax and took himself upstairs for a shower. She was probably at their meeting point already and unable to talk for fear of being overheard. He imagined
she’d be going nuts at the change of plan, but he knew exactly how to placate her. The only concern he had was that she’d want to try a different approach now. He just had to bide his
time until the events of that morning caught up with them.
    He came downstairs wrapped in only a towel, idly