Devil's Demise (8 page)

A wintery night in February, John put several implements into his black rucksack to carry out his evening’s pleasures before leaving his house. He had carefully planned his route to the Dean area of Edinburgh, another affluent district, where only the wealthy and students in multi occupancy flats could afford to live. Anna Watt’s house was a three storey town house, probably worth £1.5 million, with ivy climbing up the outer walls. The rear garden was a haven for privacy, foliage and fencing preventing neighbours interrupting anyone wishing to commit a crime unnoticed. The time was 11.35pm and the house was now in complete darkness. He had been a standing in the rear garden for over two hours watching Anna go about her daily business. He located the phone wire and cut it, having made sure that Anna hadn’t been alerted that there may be a problem if she made a last minute call before bed. Eventually the lights had gone out about 11pm, and he gave her enough time to slip into a deep sleep, hoping to avoid being heard as he broke in at the rear kitchen window as quietly and efficiently as he could.

Unfortunately, Anna was not asleep; she was lying in her bed reading with a small bedside lamp on. Her bedroom was to the
rear. Thick winter curtains draped the windows preventing the light escaping outwards into the garden. John’s footsteps were light on the ornate tiled floor, his shoes rubber soled to prevent any unnecessary noise. The kitchen was large and modern with an Aga stove and central breakfast bar, which he almost walked right into. The room was dark and he daren’t use a torch in case he disturbed his quarry, which he thought lay asleep unaware of his presence beneath her. He carried on making his way through the luxurious house to the front, where he assumed the stairs would be. The floors were polished and immaculate, which caused his shoe to give a light squeak as he turned to grip the solid oak banister as he took his first step up the stairs.

The hair on the back of Anna’s neck rose up like flowers in the morning sun. However, this was no pleasant moment. She listened hard, straining to hear the noise again. Her heart hammered in her chest and a trickle of sweat appeared on her temple as she rose from her bed almost levitating, all of her senses screaming out danger.

He stood absolutely still at the bottom of the stairs, also listening, wondering if he had woken her. Anna was upstairs and he downstairs, both of them trying not to breathe, straining to catch the other moving. Anna tried to convince herself that she had just heard the house creaking as it cooled, with the warmth subsiding, but her true animal instinct told her to be frightened, and only a fool ignores nature’s tools of fight or flight. Now convinced there was someone in her house, her mind flashed to her phone,
holy shit, I left it in the hallway
. “FUCK!” she whispered to herself.

His head tilted to the side as he heard movement up above him and he knew that one twist of fate had given his prey the upper hand. He moved up the stairs quickly, three at a time, quiet but now not worried about making a noise. He knew she knew he was there and now he had to minimise the damage caused by his clumsy movement. He pondered for a moment. Should he leave now and cut his losses just in case she’d got word out? He could always choose another fair lady.
No, no way, she’s mine! No other rich bitch will make me look a fool again.

Anna gripped herself round her waist as she tucked herself into the middle walk-in cupboard behind her collection of coats and suits. In her hand, she clasped a small baton that she kept beneath the bed. Her hand was shaking as she could hear whatever
was in her house making its way towards her like a wild beast closing in on its quarry. She held her breath as the footsteps slowly approached, tears in her eyes, her mind full of thoughts of what had happened to the poor woman who was attacked in her own home last month.
God no, please no. Don’t let it be him
. John entered the room and turned on the light; he knew she knew he was there, and that he was going to kill her; he knew she would see his face and he would make sure she would not live to tell anyone about it. With the lights on he would find her more quickly and that would unnerve her and frighten her that little bit more.
She won’t want to see my face. She might think I’ll let her live if she has nothing to tell, silly girl
. A grin appeared on his face, cruel and unfeeling. He was enjoying the thought of her fear.

He looked around the room. The lighting was subtle and warm, the colour scheme sensual, very fitting for a beautiful woman’s bedroom. The bed was luxurious and the room full of expensive ornaments. A deep pile soft rug covered the solid wood floor and a whole wall was taken up with a row of deep wardrobes, ample room for storing vast quantities of designer clothing and a petite, terrified woman.

John’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward the first set of doors, his mind focused on what came next. Anna’s hand tightened round the baton, the other hand covering it to strengthen the grip. The door opened beside her. She was aware that he was looking in the first cupboard and hers would be next. He moved across. She could hear his breath. The door opened slightly and she pressed her back further into the wardrobe, her heart pounding, waiting for her moment, waiting to strike. He hesitated too, knowing she could have a weapon and may actually be able to hurt him. Neither one of them was breathing, both suspended in animation, one in fear of her life and the other in fear of the unexpected. John’s anticipation quickly turned to rage, hostility beyond restraint. He swung the door wide open, allowing the light to flood in. Anna’s vision was momentarily affected but he couldn’t see her yet, all he saw were her clothes. Two seconds later, as he pulled the clothes roughly to the side, he felt a painful jab pushing in under his chin. It was all Anna could do; she wasn’t able to swing her arm round to strike with any force from her crouched position. John stumbled back holding his throat. His breathing was disturbed as the pain shot through
him, stopping him momentarily. Anna leapt out of the
wardrobe
, her arms raised above her and she swung again with all her might. This time she hit him full on, right on his temple. He reeled backwards as she ran past him and down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. John was momentarily stunned but being a strong man was not easily stopped. He turned and gave chase following Anna down the stairs. She was at the bottom and trying to get out the front door, but there were so many locks to keep her safe in her own home that she couldn’t manage to undo them all before he was bearing down on her. He grabbed her hair tightly and pulled her to the floor, viciously dragging her backwards towards the kitchen, her feet scraping along the shiny flooring, her heels squealing as her skin burned with the friction. Blood oozed from her fingernails where they were ripped to the quick as she frantically tried to claw at the oak floorboards in a desperate attempt to stop him pulling her towards him. His face was now horribly twisted with rage, a red swelling above one eye with blood on his face and in his eyes making him look even more sinister, his expression dark and lacking any emotion. His fist twisted her hair tightly round and he pulled her up onto her feet, before slamming her face forcefully down on the breakfast bar. Papers and fruit spilled onto the floor as Anna fought with all her might to try and free herself. He simply yanked up her night gown exposing her bare backside. She screamed and struggled even more ferociously knowing what was coming next. She would try like hell to stop him. She kicked out at him, over and over screaming, “Leave me, leave me alone, please, please. I beg you. Please don’t, not that, please not that!”

He undid his trousers. He was rock hard, her struggle for survival arousing him like never before. He held her still with ease and forced himself deep into her as she screamed out in agony. Her cries pierced the night air and he slammed her face down hard onto the counter to silence her, her teeth smashing against it, three scuttling onto the floor, blood now pouring from her broken face. Harder and harder he thrust in to her, rage spilling over as he bit her savagely on her back, tearing her flesh while pummelling her body with his flailing fists. She tried in vain to scream again but she was so winded she couldn’t draw breath. He pulled out of her and she gulped but the attack continued. He began to molest her anally, her thoughts now dulling as they
became tangled up with the floods of pain coming from all over her.

Spent, he withdrew from her, shoving her hard onto the floor, his hatred spilling over as he walked over to get his bag and pulled out some rope, Anna lay still trying to gather herself, trying to catch a breath. He looked over at her, making sure she wasn’t about to escape. Their eyes met and he growled towards her, “Take a good look, cause I’m the last thing you’ll ever see.” She closed her eyes, not daring to incite another onslaught from him. He looked down into his bag and Anna noticed her spare phone lying on the chair in the corner of the kitchen. She saw her chance. She looked up at him; he was taking a large hunting knife from the bag, a huge sex aid and a scalpel. She couldn’t stop herself vomiting and he just laughed at her, his eyes filled with disdain. “You pathetic cow! I’ll be through in a minute, don’t be so impatient,” he said, smirking at her.

She quietly but efficiently moved toward the phone. Fingers trembling, she dialled 999. “HELP ME! 4 Dean House,” was not heard properly as the call was answered.

“Police, what is your emergency?” came over. Anna gave a guttural howl as the knife was plunged deep into her back.

“Hello, hello, I’m still here, are you alright?”

Anna was thrown over the floor as he smashed the phone off the wall. “You stupid fucking bitch, I was going to have so much fun with you, and now you’ve gone and spoilt it. You bitches are so fucking lazy.”

The call taker quickly rewound the tape to hear the initial call, got the address from it this time and immediately despatched a set to check it out. Only one, however, because numerous crank calls were received daily and the nature of the call was yet to be confirmed.

John pulled Anna’s head right back, yelling at her, “Open your fucking eyes you slut, open your fucking eyes, bitch,” and as she did, he showed her the large hunting knife and whispered in her ear, “I had so much more to show you, to give you and now it’s all over.” The knife sliced deep into her neck, the downward pressure so immense that arterial blood sprayed round the room, her carotid artery severed as he started to savagely stab her in the back, again and again; she was still aware of what was going on, her pain now beyond belief. He stood over her and
looked down. The pool of blood was growing round her, flowing and gently spurting as her blood volume rapidly dropped. Unable to move, Anna simply sighed in defeat, her eyes bulging at the inevitability of her own death, sadness filling her head at the way her life had been taken from her as one last breath
gurgled
from her throat.

He was smiling as he grabbed his things, a little tense that her call might have been received. This was confirmed when he heard sirens in the distance. He fumbled with the zip of his bag as it jammed preventing it from closing. “Fuck!” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. He threw the bag away and climbed up over the rear fence, knowing the cops would go to the front door first. He knew where he was going and the route he must take to avoid any attention or trail.

Officers arrived a minute after John had left the scene; the dispatcher had had the foresight to have a free dog van sent there as well, and as the first officers at the scene shouted through the letter box, the dog handler and his dog went round the back, the dog barking furiously towards the rear fence, a scent driving it crazy. The two officers at the front made a quick decision to force the door. They had already brought the equipment from the car, and started to swing the ram at the door. It took several attempts to break it open as it was a solid wood door. On entry they turned on the lights, checking the living room first and then the hallway. There were signs of a disturbance leading to the kitchen, and once there both stopped dead in their tracks. The scene before them was horrific, like something from a horror movie. Blood was spattered all around the room, and on the floor was a small framed woman drenched in blood with a gaping wound to the front of her neck. They raced towards her and dropped to their knees to check for signs of life, shouting to the cop in the garden that there was a body inside. “She’s still warm. I’m calling an ambulance. He can’t have had that much time to get far.” They began CPR, hoping and praying there was a chance although the injury and the blood told its own story. Every compression created a fresh spurt of blood from Anna’s neck; the officers did not bother about the blood covering the woman’s face, they just wanted to save her.

The dog handler had found the bag and the dog took a deep sniff at it. It growled towards the back door and made for the
rear fence. The handler lifted the dog over into the next garden with the extended lead on and, following her over, they sped on to the next garden and the next, eventually coming to a high brick wall. The handler looked up. “No fucking way did he get up that!” The dog pulled towards an open gate that led to the road; there were still people about and the dog had to remain on the lead for their safety, unable to differentiate between good and bad people. It ran up the street for a further fifty metres, nose to the ground, stopping dead at another garden, high fenced with spikes on the top, a jacket strewn over them to prevent injury, a sign that this was where he had gone. There was no other way through so they made their way to the other side of the vast property and garden. A gate to the rear opened into the street. The dog stopped. The street was a thoroughfare to the town and at least five or six people had just walked down it, spoiling the scent and confusing the dog.

“Fuck! Fucking lucky bastard. Good effort girl,” the handler said as he leant down to praise his dog.

Out of breath, John crouched down further along the road, watching the copper look around him, the dog circling on the lead. He thought to himself,
fuck me, that was close, too fucking close!
He knew that scent could be spoilt by others walking over it. Luckily for him the bars in town created a constant flow of pedestrians in the area at that time of night. He stayed put as the sound of sirens filled the air. He knew the streets would be searched by numerous police vehicles passing by; he couldn’t risk being seen this close to the scene, his clothes had blood spray all over them. He made his way through the rear gardens, trying not to make any noise that would bring him unwanted attention; not his plan, but it would have to do as he moved quickly and discreetly through the night.