***FREE STORY*** Dark erotic one shot of Paul Spector and Katie Benedetto, teenage babysitter of Olivia and Liam Spector. Paul, loving father, husband and grief counsellor by day and serial killer by night has evaded the PSNI and Metropolitan Police...
A/N This is the first chapter of revisions to the one posted in November 2015. Although different, it's hoped you enjoy this longer version more. If you prefer the original, turn to Chapter 5.
The TV drama this fanfic is based on has images that shock, revolt yet entice and lure viewers into a moral paradox. *Trigger warning* Moral ambiguity, sexual and violent content, read on at your own discretion... AS xoxo
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It's pitch black. Katie jumps grapping the top of the six foot wall and hoists her body weight over. She lands silently in hushed converse on the other side. She looks left then right. Darkness and fog wraps chilly tentacles around Katie as she power walks away from the house cordoned off with yellow 'crime scene' tape.
The eerie quiet of residential University Quarter is pierced by heavy pounding of rubber sole boots no more than five feet behind her. Katie glances back but cannot make out the form of the person who was closing in fast. Taking the scenic route home, she pulls out her unregistered mobile phone surreptitiously sending two texts on the small screen that glows in the dark. She makes sharp turns, keeping up the gruellingly brisk pace.
Within minutes Katie reaches a fork in the road. Whoever is tailing her is at least two feet away. Without speaking a word, she hands off two thumb drives with the efficiency of a competitive relay runner handing off a baton in the crucial last leg of the race. The two figures she hands the thumb drives to dissolve into the cover of night walking soundlessly in opposite directions from her turn into Edison Avenue. She sighs with relief that the two figures are unseen by her pursuer.
Perspiration beads on Katie forehead and body under her heavy jacket. Like a fox burrowing into earth, a hair breadth away from snarling razor sharp teeth of hounds, Katie fishes keys from her pocket and darts into the red and brass door numbered sixteen Edison Avenue.
She squints at the bright light in the entrance hallway, heat from the central heating smacks her right in the face. She notes her mother's long winter coat is dry. She must have come home early.
After the chill outside, the continental temperatures inside is stifling. Pulling down the hoodie from her thick mane of brunette hair, Katie runs noiselessly up the carpet covered narrow staircase, her pace quickening as she draws nearer to her bedroom.
