By Michael Morley
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Maybe seeing a shrink would only make things worse. His head filled with static, a sort of tinnitus, a hissing noise, and then it became clearer, not hissing, cutting. The noises were back; slashing noises. Steel on skin. He covered his ears and closed his eyes. The sounds slowly slipped away. Had he heard them, or imagined them? Maybe the train pulling into the station, the wheels on the track? He took his hands away and opened his eyes. Silence. The train had stopped and the carriages were empty.
Spider pulls out some weeds growing among the pebbles on her grave and lays down the big flowers. His mind slips back to their wonderful meeting twenty years ago this very day. Sugar was so special. She was his first. The first he kidnapped. The first he murdered. PART ONE Sunday, 1 July 1 San Quirico D’Orcia, Tuscany Jack King’s nightmare catapulted him from his sleep. He sat bolt upright in bed and, despite being dazed and disorientated, he instinctively grabbed for his holstered gun. Only there was no gun, and there hadn’t been one since he quit his job as an FBI profiler more than three years ago.
Spider stirs now in his hotel bed and looks around the room to get his bearings. He wonders how the crummy joint managed to get one star, let alone two. Outside he can hear kids shouting and laughing as they jump in the pool and he longs for them to be quiet. He needs food, drink and much more rest, but such comforts will have to wait. Escape is now the only priority. Although he is more than thirty miles from the desecrated grave, for him it’s still too close for comfort. Despite the incredible desire to stay around, to mix with the locals and listen to them talk about what has happened, he knows he must leave.