Chapter 18
Kizzy.
'Dear Janis,
You're under my skin and I want to be under yours in every way that you can imagine.
Lucky is fine...if you want to see her I might be prepared to do a swap.
Kensington Gardens 6pm.
Hide and Seek... You'll find me if you want to enough.'
I drop the letter...what the Hell...I have to let the Police know...or will that make things worse?
I pick it up and check my watch, I've got ages to wait but I'll be there. I'll definitely be there.
I head into the kitchen and select the sharpest knife that I can find then slip it down my sock.
Benita.
She had no idea how she was surviving. Time had seemingly stood still as she walked around feeling that she had entered the twilight zone.
Phoenix was doing his best but he couldn't stop her dire thoughts and heartbreak. All that she wanted was Lucky back and if that happened she promised to be the best mother ever. She wondered where Kizzy was and if she was safe. The family liaison officer was very kind and constantly reassured her that the Police were doing everything that they could.
She peered out of the window, a prisoner in her own home. Some of the reporters had gone but she knew that they'd be back. They smelt blood and were circling like sharks. If Lucky turned up dead...even better in their book! After all, it was all about the scoop.
Phoenix entered the room, "You want a coffee?"
She nodded, "Please."
He hesitated, "You know your sister rang this morning..."
"I thought she might."
"Wants to know if she can come home..."
She swung around, "And when is Lucky coming home? Can you tell me that?"
He knew when he was beat and backed out of the room.
Kizzy.
I'd like to say that I've had a productive day but so far it's been shit. I have the letter burning a hole in my pocket. After a wasted afternoon staring aimlessly out of the shop window desperate to spot him I think about how much I've underestimated his character. He obviously knows a lot more than I've given him credit for. I weigh up my options and possibilities.
1-Go to the Police but then there will be no way of getting my own back and making him pay for what he's done.
2- If I tackle him myself I could end up way out of my depth or maybe even dead.
I need to talk to Dad, why does he never call when I need him...fucking loser.
My mind is flitting from one scenario to another. On the outside I'm calm, cool as a cucumber but inside I'm burning with rage. Deep down I know there's only one way...number 2.
As time draws on I pour yet another coffee in a bid to boost my armour, seal in the steel. I'm going to leave soon, stake out the place. Intuition will lead me to the spot.