She Must Go

Prologue

She had to die. Of course she did. But not like the others. No. People would come looking for this one. The others could simply disappear. This one had to be found.

The car moves steadily along the dual carriageway. Just keep to the speed limit, not too fast, not too slow. Can’t risk being pulled over by the police. Not far now. Friday night is risky for transferring a body. The distance too. But it’s the safest bet.

The next exit leads to the country park adjacent to the canal. It’s the right kind of place – quiet by night, busy in the morning. Any of the bridges crossing this stretch of water will do.

As the car pulls onto the dirt track leading into the park, they extinguish the lights. The full moon is enough. Everything is going to plan. Nice and smooth. The car crawls to a stop. It’s a busy route. Plenty of dog walkers in the morning. Any tracks will be lost in theirs.

They climb out of the car and walk the short distance to the canal, looking in both directions for any sign of life.

All is quiet, save the drone of central London in the distance and the water lapping against the towpath.

The nearest railway bridge is two minutes away.

It’s dark beneath, and the dank, earthy smell gives way to the stink of piss and cheap alcohol, even after the council moved the druggies on. This will make the perfect spot.

They move quickly now and head back to the car.

Scouring the area one final time, they open the boot and remove the blanket wrapping the body.

The young woman is so slight, she’s easy to hoist over a shoulder.

They grab her bag and half-walk, half-run back to the bridge, where they drop her on the ground and rearrange her in a foetal position.

Wiping their gloved hands together, they admire the way her body’s angled, as if she’s asleep.

They place her bag beside her and return to the car.