Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law Read Online Free
Author: Leona Turner
meeting with Dean had thrown her, and she was still smiling when Hannah arrived.
“All right, hon, what’s got you smiling all of a sudden?”
“Nothing, just pleased to see you, is all.”
Hannah wandered past her, looking somewhat unconvinced.
“I have a couple of bottles of wine, a takeaway, and Dirty Dancing on DVD—what more do you need for a perfect evening?”
Clare followed Hannah through to the kitchen.
“I stuck the oven on twenty minutes ago, so it should be warm enough. Stick the takeaway in and I’ll grab us some glasses.”
Clare wandered over to the cupboard to get the glasses. She considered telling Hannah about Dean, but given her knack for overreaction, she decided that it might be a good idea to keep the information to herself for now and see how Saturday panned out first.
Chapter 3
The front door to Matt’s apartment was opened quickly and silently, the intruder slipped in and the door was closed once more. Moving swiftly and silently from room to room, the intruder checked for any signs of life. There shouldn’t be—Matt’s routines were just that: routine. He wouldn’t be home until five, leaving more than enough time. Locating the packet of Temazepam in the bathroom cabinet, gloved hands quickly popped the tablets into a small plastic bag and using a can of deodorant crushed them. Taking the bag of ground temazepam into the kitchen, its contents were then emptied into the coffee machine filter. Scanning the surfaces to ensure no evidence remained, the intruder slipped silently out.
Three hours later the intruder returned, and, as expected, all was quiet. Walking through into the lounge, the figure noticed that Matt was slumped over the dining table, the coffee cup on the floor trailing the remains of coffee and Temazepam cocktail. Moving quickly, the intruder secured Matt to the chair he was in.
Forty-five minutes later, Matt awoke. Looking up, he saw the masked and cloaked figure staring back down at him.
Matt watched as the intruder moved slowly across the hard wood floor— his floor in his apartment, supposedly his haven. It felt far from a haven now. Looking around him, he wished he hadn’t bothered working so hard to achieve the minimalist look because this clinical atmosphere he had created was far from comforting; it was like the intruder had chosen the room for its foreboding atmosphere.
The footfalls were loud on the bare floor, which brought Matt’s attention back to his predicament.
When he had first woken up in his apartment and had found himself duct taped to one of his dining room chairs, he’d thought it was a prank, courtesy of one of his rugby mates. Then he had realised that he had no recollection of the last few hours after he had gotten home from work. He had come in, made himself a coffee, sat at the dining table to sort through the post, and that was it—after that he had nothing. And yet, here he was, bound, gagged, and sitting in his candle-lit lounge. He had been the one to put the candles out; he was going to propose to Helen tonight, but somehow he didn’t think that would be happening now. Watching the intruder, his panicked mind flickered back to the news he’d heard earlier on his way back from work.
A body had been found. His mind grappled with the idea that the perpetrator might be the man in his apartment.
The intruder was watching Matt with interest as differing emotions flickered across Matt’s face. The first victim’s discovery had been the mainstay of all news reports for the day, and Matt was clearly wondering, and quite correctly, if he was to be victim number two.
The intruder turned and headed toward the bedroom door, Matt was still staring, finding it impossible to look anywhere else. The figure temporarily disappeared from sight into the bedroom. Matt shifted uneasily in his seat. Within minutes, the figure reappeared with a large box in hand. After a moment,
“All right, hon, what’s got you smiling all of a sudden?”
“Nothing, just pleased to see you, is all.”
Hannah wandered past her, looking somewhat unconvinced.
“I have a couple of bottles of wine, a takeaway, and Dirty Dancing on DVD—what more do you need for a perfect evening?”
Clare followed Hannah through to the kitchen.
“I stuck the oven on twenty minutes ago, so it should be warm enough. Stick the takeaway in and I’ll grab us some glasses.”
Clare wandered over to the cupboard to get the glasses. She considered telling Hannah about Dean, but given her knack for overreaction, she decided that it might be a good idea to keep the information to herself for now and see how Saturday panned out first.
Chapter 3
The front door to Matt’s apartment was opened quickly and silently, the intruder slipped in and the door was closed once more. Moving swiftly and silently from room to room, the intruder checked for any signs of life. There shouldn’t be—Matt’s routines were just that: routine. He wouldn’t be home until five, leaving more than enough time. Locating the packet of Temazepam in the bathroom cabinet, gloved hands quickly popped the tablets into a small plastic bag and using a can of deodorant crushed them. Taking the bag of ground temazepam into the kitchen, its contents were then emptied into the coffee machine filter. Scanning the surfaces to ensure no evidence remained, the intruder slipped silently out.
Three hours later the intruder returned, and, as expected, all was quiet. Walking through into the lounge, the figure noticed that Matt was slumped over the dining table, the coffee cup on the floor trailing the remains of coffee and Temazepam cocktail. Moving quickly, the intruder secured Matt to the chair he was in.
Forty-five minutes later, Matt awoke. Looking up, he saw the masked and cloaked figure staring back down at him.
Matt watched as the intruder moved slowly across the hard wood floor— his floor in his apartment, supposedly his haven. It felt far from a haven now. Looking around him, he wished he hadn’t bothered working so hard to achieve the minimalist look because this clinical atmosphere he had created was far from comforting; it was like the intruder had chosen the room for its foreboding atmosphere.
The footfalls were loud on the bare floor, which brought Matt’s attention back to his predicament.
When he had first woken up in his apartment and had found himself duct taped to one of his dining room chairs, he’d thought it was a prank, courtesy of one of his rugby mates. Then he had realised that he had no recollection of the last few hours after he had gotten home from work. He had come in, made himself a coffee, sat at the dining table to sort through the post, and that was it—after that he had nothing. And yet, here he was, bound, gagged, and sitting in his candle-lit lounge. He had been the one to put the candles out; he was going to propose to Helen tonight, but somehow he didn’t think that would be happening now. Watching the intruder, his panicked mind flickered back to the news he’d heard earlier on his way back from work.
A body had been found. His mind grappled with the idea that the perpetrator might be the man in his apartment.
The intruder was watching Matt with interest as differing emotions flickered across Matt’s face. The first victim’s discovery had been the mainstay of all news reports for the day, and Matt was clearly wondering, and quite correctly, if he was to be victim number two.
The intruder turned and headed toward the bedroom door, Matt was still staring, finding it impossible to look anywhere else. The figure temporarily disappeared from sight into the bedroom. Matt shifted uneasily in his seat. Within minutes, the figure reappeared with a large box in hand. After a moment,
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