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Back The Game
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. NOW
  4. One
  5. BEFORE
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. NOW
  26. Twenty-One
  27. BEFORE
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. NOW
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. BEFORE
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. Forty-Two
  51. Forty-three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. NOW
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. Fifty-Three
  63. Fifty-Four
  64. Fifty-Five
  65. AFTER
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Acknowledgements
  68. About the Author

Mark busied himself in the kitchen to shake off the sensation of being watched. He yawned as he clicked on the microwave, the plate holding the frozen meal spinning around until his eyes began to feel heavy. He breathed in deeply and stood up taller. Widened his eyes and hoped he’d stay awake long enough to eat.

Too many late nights and early mornings, he thought. Long days after long evenings with Natasha were probably also to blame.

His eyes closed briefly as he leaned against the kitchen counter, almost dozing within seconds.

A noise shook him awake. At first he thought it was the microwave finishing, but when he opened his eyes, it was still going.

The noise came again. A bang. Against the front door. He shook his head, trying to decide if he was happy that Natasha had come over, or if he would have preferred a solid eight hours of sleep.

He moved down the hallway, opening the door as he reached it, a small smile on his face.

No one was outside.

He stepped out on his front step, moving quicker down his path as he heard footsteps running up the street.

He saw a blur of movement in the distance, turning the corner. Out of sight. Confusion washed over him as he looked back at his house. Nothing out of place. Nothing left there.

He remembered as a kid they would play a game of ‘knock a door run’. Banging on some poor person’s door and then running away quickly.

It was too late at night for that, he thought. He considered running after whoever it was, but his hesitation had already left him far behind.

Instead, he moved back towards his house and went inside. His heart rate returned to normal a few minutes after he closed the door behind him and heard the microwave ping.

He ate his meal in silence, reading over the notes he’d collected, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

That someone was watching him. Had been at his house, banged on the door and ran away. For a reason.

He fell asleep on the sofa, thinking about one thing.

His next step.

NOW

Twenty-One

The Second Interview

Tuesday 30th October

Interview Room One

Lancaster Police Station – sixty miles from Liverpool City Centre

It was later in the day now. A tired and tepid air had settled over them as they sat down for the next stage. Another interview. More questions, when all he wanted to do was sleep.

He was a mixture of emotions. Boredom had set in earlier, while he was sitting in the cell alone. Then, there was another part of him that wanted to shout and scream at the top of his lungs. To tear the place apart in frustration.