From where she was hiding, behind the couch in the living room of the home she had broken into, Emma was breathing low, ragged breaths. The ski mask she was wearing over her head had been itchy at first. But now that the adrenaline was pumping through her veins, she was no longer noticing.
She was finally here. After many months of planning, and many years of fantasising about this.
From an external view, Emma didn't really fit the profile of someone who would be doing this. True, she had come from a very broken home with parents who had abused her. She had always felt isolated and something of an outcast. And looks-wise, she wasn't the most attractive person in the world - being quite overweight, with big boobs and large thighs, a strangely shaped nose, a long monobrow and looking quite a bit older than her 36 years, people didn't really give her much attention. Actually, come to think of it, she probably did fit the profile.
Except that she was a woman.
That was the one thing that would definitely be to her benefit if someone ever came looking. They would assume that a man had done it. After all, wasn't it usually men who did this kind of thing?
Besides, she had already taken great care to ensure she wasn't caught. She was dressed in dark clothes, wearing black leather gloves, and almost no skin was exposed. She had entered the house at night, by picking the lock on the back door (she had spent many years perfecting the art of lockpicking, although when she'd started, she'd only been doing it out of curiosity and as a hobby). The only hitch had been her victim's cat, which had been sleeping on the stairs. Taking her gloves off for a moment, she had grabbed it in her hands and, before it could even react, dropped it into the wheelie bin. It was still scrabbling around inside, but not very loudly. Hopefully, her victim wouldn't hear it.
She had chosen her victim very carefully. She came into Emma's coffee house every morning at 8.30am on the dot, on her way to work. Her name was Nadine, and she was a sharply dressed businesswoman of some kind. Emma had made conversation with her whilst making the coffee, and established several mundane details about her, such as her work, her history and all that. But, most importantly, she had learned that she lived alone, other than her pet cat. Working the kinds of hours that she worked didn't lend itself to relationships, apparently. From what Emma gathered, she was 32, but that didn't matter to her.
Despite their bon ami, she secretly despised the woman. She was everything Emma wasn't - successful, financially secure, attractive and, most of all, sure of herself and her place in life. Looking around the home as she had come in, Emma had been struck by how beautiful it was, how nice the furniture was, the colouring of the lights, the marble surfaces and, most of all, the overall ambience to the room. A sharp contrast to the dingy little flat she lived in. Part of the thrill of what she was doing was experiencing the luxury and glamour of this woman's life.
One day, she had come back in just as Emma was finishing her shift, saying she wasn't feeling well and needing to buy some water before heading home. Taking the opportunity, Emma had followed her to her house. Nadine had walked the entire way, so keeping her distance was not too hard.
Now that she knew where Nadine lived, Emma had found out from her in one of their coffee chats what time she normally got home. Then she had spent several months planning what to do.
Her plan was fairly simple: to break into the house, which she had now done, then to wait until the woman got home from work, ambush her and tie her up. Then she was going to torment her with the selection of implements and equipment in her backpack. Once she was finished with her, she was going to kill her and leave. By the time the body was discovered, she would be back, serving coffee, and nobody would be any the wiser.
Emma was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock at the front door. She crouched further behind the couch and withdrew her knife. It would be time to strike very soon.
The door opened, and there were footsteps as the victim stepped inside.
Then Emma heard a voice. A voice that definitely wasn't Nadine's.
"Moxie? Moxie? Where are you?"
Peering round the side of the couch, still hidden from view, Emma's heart sank. The person who had walked in was definitely not Nadine. It was a girl who looked much younger, no older than 20 and more likely about 18. She was tiny - standing at only 4ft 9, with long, blonde hair, a delicate little face and big, puppy-dog eyes.
And in thirty seconds, she would walk through the back, hear the sound of the cat and know something was up. Emma had to strike now.
She crept round the couch, as quiet as a mouse. The girl moved down into the kitchen, still calling the cat's name. Emma managed to make it to the wall, raised herself up and flattened herself against it. The girl came back through, and just as she rounded the corner, Emma grabbed her, clamping a gloved hand over her mouth and shoving her backwards until she had her on the couch. Even after the element of surprise had gone, the girl didn't fight back. Emma had pressed the knife to her neck and was glaring menacingly into her eyes. She looked utterly terrified. And other than the scream of surprise when Emma had grabbed her, she wasn't making a sound.
Even so, Emma whispered in her ear.
"I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. Scream, and I'll cut your fucking throat."
The girl nodded, and Emma released her mouth, but didn't take the knife away.
"Now," she whispered, deliberately speaking through clenched teeth to try and disguise her voice. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you had better answer honestly. You clearly aren't the woman who lives in this house. Where the fuck is she?"
"She... she..." the girl stammered. "She's gone back up north for a couple of days to see her family. She asked if I could look after her cat while she was away."
"And you are?"
"My... my name's Nicole."
"Well isn't that nice?" Emma replied, sarcastically. She pushed the tip of the knife into Nicole's cheek, not enough to draw blood, but just enough to cause her to squeal in pain. "I meant who are you in relation to her?"
"I'm... I'm her neighbour," Nicole said. "We're good friends."
Emma took a moment to gather her thoughts. This was very different from what she had planned. Nadine lived alone, was in her thirties, and was rich and successful. In her mind, she was exactly the kind of person Emma had fantasised about bringing down a peg or two. Killing her would have been a natural conclusion. But this was different. This girl was so young, so innocent looking. She had a family nearby. She was the total opposite of what Emma had in mind. There was absolutely no way she could kill
her
.
