been easy. She had been no challenge.
Every one of Ingaâs weaknesses had been used against her. She had been given what she craved but she had given them so much more. She had given them Amy.
The movement of walking was injecting the sensation back into her toes. They tingled painfully as the warmth spread throughout her feet.
Her mind was clearer now that she'd rested for a few hours.
Her first priority was to change her clothes. She was still wearing the same outfit from the incident, making her instantly identifiable to anyone who might be looking for her.
Four miles stood between her and the small flat. She could take the back streets and alleyways and just go and get a change of clothes.
As the idea formed into a plan her pace quickened. If she could just get into her flat for long enough to change and grab her passport she could get to the airport, withdraw some money and get on a flight.
Yes, by using her cashpoint card she would put herself on the radar but by that time she'd be safely in the hub of a busy airport. Anonymous. And the very second she touched down in Germany she would make a call to the police and tell them what she knew.
She looked into her purse as she neared Cradley Heath bus station. Feeling more hopeful about the plan, she decided to spend what was left on a bus ride.
She ran in front of a bus just pulling out. The driver screeched the vehicle to a halt, offering her a filthy look.
She jumped on, grateful to be amongst the misery of the working crowd starting a new week. Oh, she ached to have their problems.
Twelve minutes later she jumped off the bus and headed into Dover Street, the main road that ran parallel to her own. If she turned the corner from the top end of the street she'd be able to assess quickly if anyone was hanging around.
She knew who she was looking for and he wasn't easy to miss.
She stood at the corner, her eyes searching every space. She saw nothing. She took a few steps forward, assessing every building as she went.
She jumped at the sound of a wheelie bin being pulled back into the garden after the weekly refuse collection, but made it to the Victorian house safely.
The keys jangled against each other as she tried to get the front door open. Inga cursed her own clumsiness as twice they fell from her hands. She finally closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
She felt the warm familiarity of coming home. Suddenly, she pined for the mundane drudge of normality.
Everyday life was not so far behind her that she couldn't remember coming home each night from work and moaning to herself about her employers or the crowded bus or the cost of groceries.
She put the key into the lock of her front door but it eased open. Her heart beat wildly as the door slowly displayed the carnage within.
Every piece of furniture she owned had been smashed to pieces. Her clothes were strewn and from the doorway she could see they had been ripped and cut. The clinical stench of bleach permeated the air.
She stared at the destruction before her and imagined Symes smiling as he destroyed her home.
The total devastation was meant as a warning and she'd received it loud and clear.
Inga turned on her heel and fled.
Twenty-Five
K aren was alone in the kitchen when Kim entered.
She turned from her cleaning and offered the ghost of a smile. Kim noted that the jewellery worn yesterday had been removed and not replaced. No make-up covered her skin.
âMorning, Kim, hope last night wasn'tââ
âCan we talk outside?â Kim asked.
Karen paused, mid-wipe.
âIs everything okay, do you have news?â
Kim shook her head and moved towards the French doors.
Karen wiped her hands and reached for a black shawl from inside the utility room. She offered a red one to Kim.
âI'm fine,â Kim said.
It was almost nine and the temperature had reached one degree.
Karen closed the kitchen door and pulled the shawl tightly around her.
Every one of Ingaâs weaknesses had been used against her. She had been given what she craved but she had given them so much more. She had given them Amy.
The movement of walking was injecting the sensation back into her toes. They tingled painfully as the warmth spread throughout her feet.
Her mind was clearer now that she'd rested for a few hours.
Her first priority was to change her clothes. She was still wearing the same outfit from the incident, making her instantly identifiable to anyone who might be looking for her.
Four miles stood between her and the small flat. She could take the back streets and alleyways and just go and get a change of clothes.
As the idea formed into a plan her pace quickened. If she could just get into her flat for long enough to change and grab her passport she could get to the airport, withdraw some money and get on a flight.
Yes, by using her cashpoint card she would put herself on the radar but by that time she'd be safely in the hub of a busy airport. Anonymous. And the very second she touched down in Germany she would make a call to the police and tell them what she knew.
She looked into her purse as she neared Cradley Heath bus station. Feeling more hopeful about the plan, she decided to spend what was left on a bus ride.
She ran in front of a bus just pulling out. The driver screeched the vehicle to a halt, offering her a filthy look.
She jumped on, grateful to be amongst the misery of the working crowd starting a new week. Oh, she ached to have their problems.
Twelve minutes later she jumped off the bus and headed into Dover Street, the main road that ran parallel to her own. If she turned the corner from the top end of the street she'd be able to assess quickly if anyone was hanging around.
She knew who she was looking for and he wasn't easy to miss.
She stood at the corner, her eyes searching every space. She saw nothing. She took a few steps forward, assessing every building as she went.
She jumped at the sound of a wheelie bin being pulled back into the garden after the weekly refuse collection, but made it to the Victorian house safely.
The keys jangled against each other as she tried to get the front door open. Inga cursed her own clumsiness as twice they fell from her hands. She finally closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
She felt the warm familiarity of coming home. Suddenly, she pined for the mundane drudge of normality.
Everyday life was not so far behind her that she couldn't remember coming home each night from work and moaning to herself about her employers or the crowded bus or the cost of groceries.
She put the key into the lock of her front door but it eased open. Her heart beat wildly as the door slowly displayed the carnage within.
Every piece of furniture she owned had been smashed to pieces. Her clothes were strewn and from the doorway she could see they had been ripped and cut. The clinical stench of bleach permeated the air.
She stared at the destruction before her and imagined Symes smiling as he destroyed her home.
The total devastation was meant as a warning and she'd received it loud and clear.
Inga turned on her heel and fled.
Twenty-Five
K aren was alone in the kitchen when Kim entered.
She turned from her cleaning and offered the ghost of a smile. Kim noted that the jewellery worn yesterday had been removed and not replaced. No make-up covered her skin.
âMorning, Kim, hope last night wasn'tââ
âCan we talk outside?â Kim asked.
Karen paused, mid-wipe.
âIs everything okay, do you have news?â
Kim shook her head and moved towards the French doors.
Karen wiped her hands and reached for a black shawl from inside the utility room. She offered a red one to Kim.
âI'm fine,â Kim said.
It was almost nine and the temperature had reached one degree.
Karen closed the kitchen door and pulled the shawl tightly around her.
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