The water had risen above Christine's right eye as she lay on her side, curled up as much as possible. The tap ran slow enough to not to make much noise, just a gentle, indistinguishable trickle. Carl wouldn't notice anyway as the girl in his living room had begun giggling playfully.

She closed her eye out of habit. She had always hated swimming with her eyes open in her youth. She pushed herself up with her feet so she sat as best she could in the bath, slowly so not to alert Carl. Her chin was jut above the waterfall tap valve. She slowly leaned her chin on it to turn the water off and lowered herself back down so she was curled up on her side.

Her mouth squirmed desperately trying to create an opening for the water to seep into the tape's adhesive and loosen it. It was beginning to work. She could tastes the adhesive running into her mouth, soaking the sock that gagged her. She continued, she could get some movement on the fabric in her mouth now by pushing her tongue on it.

The giggles continued but were now interrupted by groans of pleasure. Christine had the give on the tape to make some muffled screams. She felt relieved it had worked but knew that a scream would not end well for either her or Carl's latest conquest. Tomorrow two women would be found with a smiley face and a bunch of numbers cut into her cheek.

Finally an end came loose and she sat up in the bath. Using her shoulder she slowly and clumsily peeled off the tape and spat out the sock. She frantically caught her breath.

The sound of the bedroom door closing gave her a moment's respite. At least now two doors separated her from Carl. Now he thought he had her Christine felt that the girl was safe, he'd get his end off and come to her to get tonight's real thrill.

She slipped out of the bath head first and thumped to the floor.

"Shit," she hissed more annoyed that she made a sound than the pain from the impact, "shit, shit, shit."

She lay there motionless waiting for Carl to enter.

* * *
Doug's Renault Clio wasn't quick but the way he revved the engine and swung it around the corners you would have thought it was an F1 car.

He had no idea what he would find when he got to the residence of Carl Fontage but he knew he wouldn't leave empty handed. He swerved down a side road, sure it was narrow and windier but he knew the main roads had speed bumps and now was no time for traffic calming devices. Not to mention he knew it was a favourite spot for police cars trying to catch speeding drunkards.

He glanced at his phone, still nothing. He still had not got a reply from Christine. He slowed down just enough to call her and put it on speakerphone just as a white Skoda taxi came at him in the other direction. He had just enough time to swerve out the way but managed to scrape he side of his car on a metal pedestrian guard.

"Christine, I think I've cracked the code. I think it's about you, it's always been about you. If Carl is your ex I'm guessing it's him and I'm on my way. That girl from Condor is likely the next victim. Call me back asap."

He shouted down the phone letting the tape run as he swung his car around a corner. He wasn't far, another ten minutes by his best guess.

*   *   *

She had managed to wriggle her hands free by rolling her wrists over themselves. Weakened adhesive and loosened not and she slipped out the bind.

Normally the sticky residue on her hands would bother her, causing her to make her fingers squirm and every squelching separation, but she paid it no heed.

She raised herself to her feet, shaking. The adrenaline from escaping the bindings was wearing off and one look in the mirror showed she was tired. She breathed out slowly, heavily as she ran her fingers across the bruise on her cheek and the swollen lip. She ran the tap into her palms and splashed her face hoping to rehydrate the bags under her eyes.

She straightened her posture, trying to regain any dignity she still had in her underwear and turned the handle slowly. She could hear the symphony of the thuds and bed springs from the adjoining room as she entered the lounge. She picked up the men's plain white T-shirt from the floor and threw it on. Despite it going see through as it touched her still wet body it fitted well, Carl never was a particularly large man.

She could hear the thudding and intensity getting louder from the bedroom, they were close to climax. Christine scanned the room for any of her belongings, gave up and walked towards the door, escape was easy at this point.

Her hand clasped the handle and then loosened. The thought came to her, if she left what would that mean for the girl is the bedroom, what would happen to her once Carl lost his temper that she had done a runner?

She let go of the handle and ran to the kitchen. She fumbled through the cutlery draw.

"Plastic cutlery, what are Carl, five years old, Jesus Christ," she muttered parting the disorganised mess of a drawer.

She picked up a butchers knife, too big? Too lethal. Then she clasped a bread knife, same problem, she still had a responsibility not to kill him, even if every inch of her wanted to. She grabbed the rolling pin that had been put right to the back corner of the drawer, clearly he was no baker, yet that didn't surprise her.

"Perfect," she whispered.

She skulked back through the living room to the bedroom where the panting and squeaking had stopped. She took a deep breathe and burst in. Carl and his conquest lay there in bed, covered by the bed sheet, sweat glistening on their foreheads.

"What the hell Christine, how did you get out?" Carl jumped at the sight of her, the girl curled up. There was a look in Christine's eye, one that would make even the toughest man cower. Yet it was not aimed at Carl but the girl, she recognised her. She knew there was something familiar about her at the coffee shop, yet she couldn't put her finger on it. However in this context she finally remembered, she was one of the girls Carl cheated on her with all that time ago.

*   *   *

Doug pulled up outside the block of flats he had as an address for Carl. He yanked open his glove compartment that always got a bit stuck but in the rush he was in it became even harder to open. He reached in, right the way to the back and grabbed his taser gun.

He never thought he'd use it but was made to take the training. It had been in there since it had been issued a year ago to all London policeman.

The images went through his head as he climbed the steps - ✝️📥❓🏹. It had to be Christine Yarrow, it had been the plan all along.

He reached the front door, the adrenaline began to surge. He very rarely saw action in his career, he normally did the investigating and got others to do the breaking down doors, but he just didn't have time. He grasped the handle of the taser and held it like a pistol. He knocked on the door.

"Mr Fontage, it's the police, open up."

No reply.

His hands began to shake and his brow became clammy. He could feel a heat rising from his stomach.

"Mr Fontage, if you don't answer the door I'm going to break it down."

Still no reply.

Doug took a few steps back and launched himself at the door.

Thud.

The door moved but didn't break. He took another few backs. This time he decided to fly kick the door. He took his run up and...

* * *

Christine ignored the first knock at the door, this had become her problem to deal with.

"Jessica," she said, the rolling pin not dropping from its position prepped for a swing, "nice to see you again."

"I'm surprised you didn't recognise me earlier," the girl said desperate to maintain some sort of dignity.

"Most the pictures I'd seen of you weren't of your face to be fair."

"I got forced out of university because of you!"

"The university didn't have to do that."

" when you uploaded those pictures to my university server..."

"Shouldn't have slept with my boyfriend."

"It made me want to leave, every day attending lectures and seminars, knowing each of them had seen those pictures."

Doug's second knock came, Christine chose to ignore it.

"You're under arrest," Christine said.

"You're not a police officer anymore, you can't do that," Carl said, rolling out of bed. He found his boxers by the side of the bed and pulled them up quickly.

"I can and I will, you've murdered four women."

"Did I?"

"That's for a court to decide. If it even gets that far."

Thud.

Christine turned, jumping with surprise that Doug would even attempt to break down a door.

With that came a left hook to her jaw bone from Carl. She fell to the floor.

The second thud came, this time with a crack and the front door flew open. Christine looked up as Doug stormed in, apparently trying to imitate the swat teams he'd seen in the movies.

The last thing she saw was her old friend with a tiny, brightly coloured gun held at full arm extension.

It may have been the enveloping conclusion but the last thought she had was that it looked quite amusing seeing an old librarian pretending a taser was a pistol. She'd have to remember to take the piss out of him when she came to.