Evil Games

Evil Games Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: Evil Games Read Online Free PDF
Author: Angela Marsons
back down as though unable to comprehend the unrelated incidents: her presence and a knife wound.
    ‘You take back your own control, your destiny, your light.’
    He blinked rapidly and for a second his vision cleared and he stilled.
    Every sense she had charged into life; a truck thundered past at the end of the alley. The sound lit her ears on fire. Her stomach heaved as a thick metallic smell filled her nostrils. The dog whimpered but did not run.
    ‘You take back your own control, your destiny, your light.’
    Ruth drew back the knife and plunged it in again. The second penetration was not as deep but the momentum forced him backwards. A sickening thud sounded as the back of his skull met the concrete.
    ‘You take back your own control, your destiny, your light.’
    Something hadn’t gone quite right. She’d missed a crucial detail. In the visualisation her body was suffused with peace, calm.
    She towered over his writhing body and thrust the knife into his flesh again. He groaned, so she stabbed him again.
    She kicked at his left leg. ‘Get up, get up, get up,’ she screamed but the leg lay inert like the rest of him.
    ‘You take back your own control, your destiny, your light.’
    ‘Get the fuck up,’ she aimed a kick to his ribs. Blood spurted from his open mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head as he squirmed like a demented mammal. The dog ran around his head, seemingly unsure what to do.
    The tears rolled over her cheeks and fell. ‘Give it to me, you fucker. Just give it back to me,’ she ordered.
    The body went still and the alley silenced.
    Ruth drew herself back to her full height.
    As the blood pooled like a paint spill beneath the lifeless body, Ruth waited.
    Where was her relief?
    Where was her salvation?
    Where the hell was her light?
    The dog barked.
    Ruth Willis turned and ran for her life.

EIGHT
    It started with a body, Kim thought, getting out of the Golf GTI.
    ‘Nearly got him there, Guv,’ Bryant said of the uniformed officer who had jumped out of the way to avoid the bonnet of her car.
    ‘I was miles away from him.’
    She ducked under the barrier tape and headed for the bunch of fluorescent jackets milling around the white tent. The Thorns Road, a dual carriageway, formed part of the main link from Lye to Dudley town.
    One side of the road was primarily made up of a park and houses. The other side was dominated by a gym, a school, and The Thorns pub.
    The mid-March day temperature had almost broken double figures but the darkness had sent the mercury plummeting all the way back to February.
    While Bryant confirmed their credentials, Kim ignored everyone and headed for the body. A dark gulley ran along the side of an end terrace that stretched up towards Amblecote, one of the finer parts of Brierley Hill.
    To the left of the pathway was a plot of land overgrown with weeds, grass and dog shit, currently being trampled by crime scene officers or car body shop workers.
    She entered the white privacy tent and groaned.
    Keats, her favourite pathologist, was bent over the body.
    ‘Aah, Detective Inspector Stone. It’s been too long,’ he said, without looking at her.
    ‘I saw you last week, Keats. Post mortem of a female suicide.’
    He looked up and then shook his head. ‘No, I must have blocked it out. People do that with traumatic events, you see. It’s a self-preservation mechanism. In fact, what’s your name again?’
    ‘Bryant, please tell Keats he’s not funny.’
    ‘Can’t lie to the man’s face, Guv.’
    Kim shook her head as a smirk passed between them.
    Keats was a diminutive figure with a smooth head and a pointy beard. Some months earlier his wife of thirty years had died unexpectedly, leaving the man far more bereft than he would ever admit.
    Occasionally she would allow him a little fun at her expense. Just now and again.
    She turned to where a Border collie cross sat patiently beside its prostrate master.
    ‘Why’s the dog still here?’
    ‘Witness, Guv,’
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