Sweet Revenge thriller

Chapter Seven

I EMAIL THE FIXER on a regular basis, but no, he has heard nothing about the deaths of my parents.

I have been contemplating going back to Patrick. He keeps leaving messages on my cell phone and yesterday he said if I didn't get back to him, he'd come visit me. Well, I can't have anyone else knowing I'm leading a double life so, I make contact and we are to meet up the next day at 2 p.m.

To keep my two identities separate, I don a wig replicating my previous hairstyle (thanks to Jamie) remove all traces of my make-up and my sparkling green lenses and he is none the wiser.

'Good to see you again Athena. How are you?' he asks as I wander into his office and plonk myself down on his brown leather couch. 'You've lost weight?' he tells me. I shrug.

'Are you...' he starts but I interrupt.

'Coping? What do you think? Parents murdered. Journalists following me everywhere asking stupid bloody questions. Of course I'm not coping.'

Patrick pulls his half-smile and then in his usual soft voice he tells me, 'Then right here, right now is a really good place to be. Just talk to me Athena.'

So I do. I prattle on about how unfair life is. He digs and digs then finally out it comes... my nightmares are back with vengeance. Not only do they include my recurring night terrors of me as a six year old they now end with my parents being massacred. When I finish my woeful tale I'm blubbering and Patrick is sitting beside me with his arm around my shoulders.

'Obviously we need to up your meds,' he says. 'Get yourself a good nights sleep and for goodness sake Athena, get some food into you. Proper food.' He looks down at my legs and I realize it's a fair enough comment. I'm wearing cut-off jeans just below the knees and I've never seen my legs look so scrawny.

* * *

I had decided to visit my gorgeous apartment after my session with Patrick and I park two blocks away and camouflage my appearance (hopefully) by donning my hoody.

Apart from a slight stale smell, my apartment is looking it's best with the afternoon sun streaming in through the dining room windows and bouncing across my black marble coffee table sending shards of light upwards illuminating a Victorian glass vase on a shelf on the other side of the room. It's such a comfort to be back home and I stand in the middle of the room on my white Italian tiles and stare at the Van Gogh Sunflowers (which I'm adamant are actually Marigolds) and Picasso's Nude in a Black Armchair which take centre stage on my far wall. I plan to stay for a few hours and I lay down on my couch drinking in my surroundings. I'm home. Such a lovely feeling.

Then I spy a cobweb in the corner of the window overlooking the street. Up I get and grab my feather duster from the hall closet. As I flick at the cobweb with the colourful ostrich feathers I glance out the window and I literally freeze.

The Black Sedan.

No mistaking. It's parked on the street right outside my apartment window. I fight the dark shadow chilling my bones. This is my chance. I'm going to get the motherfucker and I'm racing down the stairwell before I change my mind. When I get down to the street I walk all sort of casual like, half a block down so I can take a pic of his number plate. Click! Gotcha!

Cars screech to a standstill as I bound across the street and when I reach his car I'm ecstatic that his window is down. I thrust my hand inside his car and grab him by his white starched collar. 'Who the fuck are you? Why are you stalking me?'

He's a young man, my stalker. He shakes as he splutters...incoherently.

'Who are you? What do you want?' I screech at him.