T.M.E. Walsh

The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller


Скачать книгу

Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Part Four

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

       Chapter 41

       Chapter 42

       Chapter 43

       Chapter 44

       Chapter 45

       Chapter 46

       Chapter 47

       Chapter 48

       Chapter 49

       Chapter 50

       Chapter 51

       Chapter 52

       Chapter 53

       Chapter 54

       Chapter 55

       Chapter 56

       Chapter 57

       Chapter 58

       Chapter 59

       Chapter 60

       Chapter 61

       Chapter 62

       Chapter 63

       Chapter 64

       Chapter 65

       Chapter 66

       Chapter 67

       Chapter 68

       Chapter 69

       Chapter 70

       Chapter 71

       Chapter 72

       Chapter 73

       Chapter 74

       Chapter 75

       Chapter 76

       Chapter 77

       Chapter 78

       Part Five

       Chapter 79

       Chapter 80

       Chapter 81

       Chapter 82

       Chapter 83

       Chapter 84

       Chapter 85

       Chapter 86

       Chapter 87

       Chapter 88

       Chapter 89

       Chapter 90

       Chapter 91

       Chapter 92

       Chapter 93

       Chapter 94

       Chapter 95

       Chapter 96

       Chapter 97

       Chapter 98

       Chapter 99

       Chapter 100

       Chapter 101

       Chapter 102

       Epilogue

       Endpages

       About the Publisher

       ‘He got inside my head. He twisted it, danced around in it, leaving nothing behind but bad memories and bloody footprints.’

      31st October

      She tasted the earth, the dead leaves and the damp as she crawled on her belly.

      The bitter wind rose. It raged through the trees like something possessed, scattering the last remaining dead leaves that had once clung to the skeletal branches. Shivering uncontrollably, she pressed her body harder to the ground, willing it to open and swallow her whole.

      Don’t let him see me from here.

      Was she hoping or praying? She didn’t know any more.

      God hadn’t been with her when she needed Him the most, not for a long time. Not since the accident. Nothing had come to ease her grief then and nothing would come now. Why wait for some divine intervention to carry her from this wretched place? She could only rely on herself, and look where that had got her. There wasn’t any hope of escape. Not now. The gash on her ankle had seen to that. Nothing left now except the time before he killed her.

      He’d desecrate her body, but not her soul. A soul that had already been ripped to shreds and lain broken, slowly dying a piece at a time since the day of the accident. The day her life broke down into nothing meaningful, just something wretched, languishing in self-pity.

      The man who was tracking her would be following the trail of blood, seeping from the wound on her ankle. For all she knew, he could be standing right behind her now, watching in silence, waiting to strike the final blow. The great calm before the storm.

      Her bruised ribs prevented her from rolling on her back. She sucked in a deep breath against the dank earth, soil creeping inside her mouth, between parched lips. She dug her fingers in deep, nails raking through the mud.

      She pulled.

      Just a little further towards the bushes. I can make it. I have to. Ignore the pain.

      Then she heard it. She froze with the fright and the possibility that death was coming even sooner than imagined. She wondered if it was delirium or if the noise close behind her was as real as the hot tears falling down her face.

      No, the sound of crushing twigs was much closer now. It was as real as the heat of his breath now upon her neck.

      He appeared almost from nowhere, creeping through the oily blackness.

      He was determined.

      He would kill her.

      The hairs on the back of her neck rose, gooseflesh puckering her skin. There was a moment there in the darkness when she thought he might speak to her. She heard his sharp intake of breath… but nothing more. She hadn’t the courage to look into his cold dark eyes again. The weight of his boot pressed down on her neck, burying her face deeper into the soil.

      Sweet Jesus, just let this be over quickly.

      He stooped down close, replaced his boot with an icy hand. She braced herself. Her eyes squeezed shut when she felt the sharp tip of the blade, the cold edge of steel.

      She felt no pain at first, just a forceful punch to the neck.

      Then came the pain.

      She felt her warm blood pouring down her neck, onto the ground, drenching the earth. Then the rain came. Icy fat droplets, pattering over her bare skin.

      As her mind took her beyond the pain, spiriting her away high above the violence below, the last thoughts that ran through her head were of her husband and their two children.

      She could see them clearly, as alive now as they had been a year ago. They were playing in the cornfield behind the house where