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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

Of course, I might have been totally wrong about all of this, but my heart said I wasn’t. Then another awful thought popped into my mind. Was part of his sport to seduce and deflower the good little Christian girl? See what kind of deceptions she’d pull to keep their secret, what lengths she’d go to come to him? She’d lied, she’d deceived and she’d gone against her own principles for him. Did he set out to steal her soul as well as her body? This train of thought was getting too depressing, so I blanked it all out again, by concentrating on the sound of my breathing, the feel of the air as it cooled my sweat-glistened skin.

I had reached the spidery tree on the path to destruction, and found myself checking both ways for signs of life before getting up the gall to walk down its lonely sweep. I’d said hello to the constable stationed at the garden gates to question passers-by, but still, it felt creepier than ever to be there, as I sat down on a rock, not the rock, with my back to the bank and my eyes to the path. When my supersensitised ears finally stopped my supersensitised brain from thinking every creak of a branch and whisper of wind was a stalker or killer, I set my mind back to the who, not the how or why.

Who could manage such a thing? For it was truly an orchestration. I wasn’t a criminal psychologist, or profiler, but it didn’t take a flash qualification to figure out we were dealing with someone very clever, and very intelligent. This wasn’t some opportunistic thug; this was a rational, calculated act. What kind of sick individual could manage all that?

What I needed was a profiler. No doubt the best profiling minds in the country were already on the case, but I wasn’t privy to that information. Which meant the nearest I had to one was Maggie. I was sure a couple of semesters of psychology would qualify her to give me an insight into the killer’s mind. If anyone understood people, it was Maggie. Some people had that innate ability, and I’d swear that girl was one of them.

61

‘Hello, anyone home?’ I said, as I knocked on the door to Uncle Phil’s study.

‘Hang on, Sam, I’ll be there in a second.’ I heard his footsteps tread over, and he pulled the door open. ‘You survived your run okay? No problems?’