Insane - Who Are You To Judge? (Gripping Psychological Thriller)

Chapter 28 - Avery

I had to park in a side road a mile from the alleyway, so that my car isn't linked to the scene. I've been walking for ten minutes and I still have a quarter of a mile left to go.

It's flippin' freezing. I wiggle my toes at the end of my worn-out trainers, but I receive no indication that I didn't lose them half a mile ago.

The moon stalks me as I soldier along the street, its eye following my every move. The night sky blankets the entire area. I normally see it as a protection and it comforts me. Tonight, it's trapping me.

As I approach the alleyway, I slow my pace and become more cautious, spinning around to confirm there is no one in sight – or out.

As I had expected, the slim passageway is taped off by iridescent yellow plastic with "CRIME SCENE" painted across it repeatedly.

I slink under the tape and spring myself back upright once I am clear of it. I must say, I'm rather proud of my elastic back – it must be why I always won those limbo contests.

There's something about going against the rules at night that makes the atmosphere all the more sinister. Every time the breeze whips past my ear I can almost hear it warning me, careful now, don't get caught. The paranoia does send spiders crawling up my back, but I shake them off and block out the wind. Listening only to my reason.

Although that seems like a rare occurrence nowadays, she reminds me.

I tread judiciously, making sure I leave no shoeprint. There isn't much chance of this since I'm wearing my trainers which have had their outsoles completely run down. Still, it's better safe than sorry. I can't afford to make any more mistakes.

I reach the area next to the skip and I see the events that unfolded only seventeen days ago as if they are happening right in front of me all over again.

I have mixed feelings when I travel back to that day. A part of me smiles, remembering the thrill as Cinderella faded away. Another part is resentful of her sudden need for vengeance and my ego taking over my reason. If it weren't for my one moment of weakness, I wouldn't be in this mess.

Then again, I wouldn't have met Him, either.

I pull out the plastic bag from my coat pocket with the fibres from the Prince's suit and I scatter them on the ground. Amid doing so, I do a three-sixty, certain I felt someone's breath on my neck.

Come on, Avery, concentrate. My reason lectures me as I turn my attention away from the glowing eyes I am imagining lurking in my shadow, and back to the task at hand.

The placement of the fibres is very important. They must be randomly positioned and form no sort of pattern, but at the same time they must be situated in places that the forensics team are sure to find when they do their second sweep of the crime scene.

A few strands are scattered on the floor next to the skip, to show there was a struggle. Then, there must be some on the corner of the skip, where he caught his jacket as he threw her body in.

Next, I position the strands of hair I ripped from his scalp. It may have been more humane to just cut them off, but the forensic experts would analyse the hair and see that there was no root, making it very obvious they weren't pulled out due to a struggle. I focus the positioning of these on the ground, since this is where the fighting took place. I also place some further down the alleyway, just to create some diversity.

I was careful not to touch the suit fibres or his hair in the procuring and the transporting of them, and I am just as careful now – wearing leather gloves which are sure to create no impression.

I check over the scene again and once I am satisfied that no one has seen me or is walking the streets at this time of night – which is suspicious in itself since it's one o'clock on a Wednesday morning – I make the painful journey back to my car, unsure of whether I still have all ten piggies.

As I walk back to the car, I can't shake the image of a figure being in that alleyway. I know it's just my mind playing tricks on me, sometimes I feel cursed to have such a marvellous imagination. Even still, the image is there, cemented in my mind.

The police will have to go through all of Cinderella's friends and family...well just friends I suppose, before they consider it to be a random attack. This means I have plenty of time before there is even the possibility of me being a suspect. Still, with this creepy dude following my every move and doing nothing to indicate that he just wants a friendly little chat, I can't afford this case going past her friends...and Prince. Besides, they have found my DNA. Even if they have no match for it, it is already on their system. I need to make sure they find the culprit. Or the one I want them to find anyway.

Now all that is left is to ensure that Cinderella's Prince doesn't have a solid alibi. After a little bit of digging, I've discovered that the Prince was, very conveniently, out of the office on the afternoon that Cinderella met her end. Unfortunately, he left work for a doctor's appointment, which poses a bit of a dilemma. Doctors' offices keep records.

The drive home isn't too long – only six minutes. And it hadn't taken me long to walk to my car from the alley – only thirteen minutes.

So you can imagine my surprise when I return home, a mere nineteen minutes after leaving Cinderella's resting place, to find an envelope posted through my door.

The envelope matches the rustic cream colour of the other two. You don't need to be as smart as me to figure out who it is from.

I don't even open the envelope to discover its contents. I hurry straight to my desk, switch on my laptop and fast-forward through the footage of the camera until the date in the corner of the screen matches today's.

I'm searching through hours of footage until the time on the screen is 1:10am – only twelve minutes ago – and I see a figure walk up to the door.

If there was any light, even from the moon himself, it was swallowed whole by the shadow the figure created. They were dressed in all black. They wore a long trench coat and a fedora hat, angled down to cover their eyes.

I can see nothing. There is not a single distinct feature I am able to pick out of the silhouette. I can't even tell if it's a man or a woman. So much for the camera idea.

How is this person one step ahead of me? No one's ever a step ahead.

Disappointed by my findings, I draw my attention back to the envelope and I rip it open. Just as I expected, the words are formed with letters cut out from magazine.

Stupid woman. I thought I told you not to frame someone else. We all have to face our judgement sometime. Your time is now.

My heart flutters inside my chest, no longer wanting to be a part of me. It wants to escape – just as I do.

This letter means that this person followed me to the alleyway, watching the entire time and was at my doorstep less than seventeen minutes ago. I thought I was careful when I went there tonight. I thought I made sure no one followed or saw me.

The fact that he knew exactly where I was and what I was doing shakes me to my core. This is the first time I've been outsmarted. This is the first time I feel like I might be out of my depth.