The Taxi Murders (extract)


She wiped the sweat from her forehead "it sure is getting hot these days" she said to try to cover the fear building up inside her.

She couldn't be sure she wasn't just over-reacting, that her mind wasn't just running away with her imagination.

'I'll turn up the air-con for you love" he replied, "oh here's my business card."

He handed her a crisp white card - the words 'Tank Cod' inscribed in bold letters.

His smile chilled her to the bone, he had seemed charming at first, but she suddenly felt a different mood come over him.

"Ah, you know, you can just drop me off here" she mumbled.

"No, no" he said, an edge of steel in his voice "no love, it's much too dangerous for a pretty girl to be wandering the streets alone at night" he amended, his voice sounding friendly again.

"Err thanks, but here's fine" she said, catching a glimpse of something dark and cold in his eyes, her hand already opening the door, just before hearing the click as he applied the locks, she jumped from the moving cab.

She rolled a few paces, tearing her dress, before she got her balance and control back. Terrified, she ran for the nearest house, hoping against all hope the owner was home.

She was in luck. A gentleman in his fifties opened the door cautiously, peering through the crack, taking in the view of a dishevelled woman with bright terrified eyes, before unlocking the chain and opening the door wider to assess the situation.

Before him stood a woman in her early twenties with striking blue eyes - even when wide with fear - red hair worn long and loose halfway down her back. Even in her dishevelled state and torn dress she looked utterly stunning.

"Please sir, I need to use your phone. I need to call the police!"

Standing aside, the elderly gentleman allowed her access into his house. Peering outside once more before closing and resetting the chain on the door, he led her into the dining room where he kept his telephone.

Before she even made it halfway across the room to the telephone, they heard the laughter; the evil mocking tone as the laughter surrounded the house, then "come out, come out, wherever you are" before the laughter became manic once more.

They stopped in mid-step as they heard the laughter move towards the back door, then the sudden rattling of the handle as someone tried frantically to let themselves in.

In her rush to get away from the taxi driver, she hadn't turned around to see what he'd do. She didn't see him stop, or turn the car around. Hadn't realised he'd followed her to the house or that he'd been outside waiting for her next move.

She held her breath as the door rattled frantically again... then deafening silence.

She quickly made her way to the telephone, picking it up and awaiting the dial tone. Nothing. It was dead.

About to give in to the fears welling up inside her, she suddenly remembered she had her mobile in her bag. Trembling fingers dialled the emergency number.

It seemed to take forever to explain to the operator what was happening and that she needed to talk to the police.

Forced to give the outline of the story to the police operator now, she was finally transferred through to the local police station.

"Senior Detective Wilkins here" a voice smooth as honey replied.

The End

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