Alice sat down. ‘I think it is,’ she said. ‘It’s weird, but when I got back here and he was waiting up ready to unload all this shit on me – I saw it there and then. I didn’t want to be with him any more. It was like I knew it all along, but I couldn’t see it.’

‘Sounds pretty terminal.’

‘I know. I’m shocked, in a way, but I feel nothing for him. I wish him well, but I don’t want to be with him. Honestly, Brenda – more than anything, I feel relieved.’

‘So what happens next?’ Brenda said. ‘Are you going to stay here?’

Alice nodded. ‘I’ve got a few more days in the room, so I might as well. It could be fun.’

‘And after that?’

‘I don’t know. I had this whole life charted out for me – finish up the lease on the house in Nottingham, move in with Ned, get a job in journalism. Now it’s all gone. I can do whatever I want.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Maybe travel a bit,’ Alice said. ‘Go around Europe. But other than that, I have no idea. And it feels great.’

Thursday, 22 July 2021

Alice

‘CRUCIFIX’ KILLER HAS A SIGNATURE

By Alice Sark

In a shocking development, reports have emerged which confirm that the murders of Jane Kirkpatrick, Amy Martin and Stan Davidson were committed by the same person.

Someone familiar with the investigation revealed to this correspondent that the crime scenes all share a chilling similarity. The arms of the victims were folded across their chests and a crucifix had been inserted into their right hands.

Detective Inspector Jane Wynne confirmed that the reports are true. ‘We are disappointed that these details leaked, but can confirm that they are accurate.’ When asked whether the police believed that this meant they were dealing with a serial killer, she added, ‘Yes, it would seem to indicate that, and we are proceeding – indeed have been proceeding – on that basis.’

She did not answer further questions and would not comment on the significance of the folded arms or crucifix. While their meaning remains unclear, one thing is certain: there is a serial killer of the most depraved and twisted kind at work in this town.

Alice sat at the corner table of Gerrard’s, a café in Stockton Heath village. She often went to work in cafés – there were four or five in different parts of the town that didn’t mind customers sitting for a few hours on one cup of coffee and a cake. At first she’d found the ebb and flow of the customers distracting, but now she was used to it. In any case, it was better than being at home. Even if Martha or Tom’s mum was there looking after Jo, she couldn’t settle into her work.