will.’
The box was secured with the seatbelt and Joe drove carefully back to Meersbrook. He couldn’t stop smiling as he imagined the look on Jason’s face when he saw the cake. He drove straight into the garage and closed the door behind him.
Before he’d left, Joe had set the dining room up for the mini-party they were having later with a few of Jason’s friends from school. The table was clear, and Joe could place the cake in the middle without any hassle. It was heavier than expected.
He took the lid off the box, carefully removed the large yellow cake from it and placed the smiling Minion on the table. He stood back and inspected it. Karen would kill him if there were any damages. He was amazed something so intricate could be made out of sponge and icing.
The attack caught Joe unawares. The wind was knocked out of him from behind, and he fell to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
Dazed, he shook his head and tried to stand up, but something was pushing down on his back and he fell to the floor once again. He looked up and saw his pained reflection in the patio windows screaming back at him. Above him was a dark figure dressed in black who had one foot on his back, pressing him to the floor. He couldn’t breathe as he felt his ribs starting to break.
‘I could easily kill you. It wouldn’t take much for a broken shard of a rib to pierce your lung and for it to fill with blood. You’d gag. You’d choke. You’d drown in your own blood, but it wouldn’t take long before you lost consciousness.’
The pressure was released from Joe. He was in a great deal of pain, but he managed to turn over onto his back. He coughed as he struggled to regain his breath.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ he asked.
The man dressed in black took off his backpack, unzipped it and took out a length of rope. He held it aloft, showing Joe the noose swaying at the end of it.
‘I’m your executioner.’
Panicking, Joe tried to get away. He didn’t get far as he banged the back of his head on the patio window. He turned, reached up for the handle and pulled, but it was locked. He felt the noose go over his head and squeeze into his neck. He tried to get his fingers under the rope, but it was no good, it was too tight. Already his breathing was laboured, and he felt light-headed as he was dragged along the carpet.
‘Wake up, Joe,’ his attacker shouted, slapping him across his face. ‘You need to know why you’re being executed. You’re taking all the fun out of it.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Justice. That’s all I want.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong!’
The man let go of the rope, and Joe fell back, hitting his head once again on the floor.
‘How can you say that? How can you deny what you’ve done? When you’re breathing your last breath, think of Rebecca.’
Joe’s eyes widened. That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. ‘No. Please,’ he wept. ‘I’ve got a family. Please. Don’t kill me.’
At the sight of Joe begging and pleading for his life, the Hangman smiled.
‘Mum, I feel sick.’
‘I told you not to eat all those fries.’
It was going dark by the time Karen and the children made their way from Meadowhall back home to Meersbrook. They’d had a great day, although when planning it, Karen hadn’t taken into account the annoyance of Saturday shoppers. She had felt a headache come on after ten minutes. The volume of The Lego Batman Movie hadn’t helped either. The burger in Oasis afterwards was tasty, but the wall of noise from those around her took the edge off her appetite. Jason, however, had delighted in finishing off everyone else’s fries. Now, he was paying the price. When she’d gone to the toilet and seen her reflection in the mirror she looked as if she’d aged ten years since arriving at Meadowhall. The mall sapped every ounce of energy from the moment you arrived. When the extension opened it would be hell on earth.
‘Have you had a good day, Jason?’ she asked, trying to distract him from feeling sick.
‘It’s been brilliant,’ he brightened up. ‘I can’t wait to tell Dad about the film. Do you think he’ll take me to see it again next weekend?’
‘I’m sure he will,’ Karen said smiling, knowing her husband was a big kid at heart and would probably enjoy The Lego Batman Movie even more than Jason did, if that was possible.
Karen turned the corner and pulled up in front of the house. She wondered why it was in darkness. Maybe Joe was planning to jump out and shout surprise. Jason would love that.
Jason climbed out of the back seat and ran to the house. The front door was unlocked and he went straight in. Karen could hear the calls for his father from the road. For a tiny child, he had a loud voice. Victoria and Esme helped Karen with the bags of shopping. She had just closed the boot when a glass-shattering scream came from the house. She dropped a bag and a bottle smashed. Red wine spilled out of the torn plastic and ran down the road. She froze as she looked at the open doorway of her home and saw her little boy staring at her. His face was pale, and he was shaking violently. Her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating and her world stopped turning.
Matilda had been waiting for this phone call since last Saturday morning. Something at the back of her mind told her there would be a second victim. Brian Appleby had been hanged in what looked like an execution. Someone had obviously known about his past and decided he needed to pay with his life rather than just eight years in prison. If they had taken the trouble to research Brian, and set up such an elaborate and gruesome murder, they wouldn’t stop at one victim; others would be in the planning. One week later, Matilda had been proven correct.
In the car on the way, Aaron filled Matilda in on the details. It sounded frighteningly similar to the Brian Appleby murder. The victim, in this case, was Joe Lacey, who was not on the sex offender’s register but was known to the police.
On the 1st of January 1997, following a New Year’s Eve party with his girlfriend, Karen, who later became his wife, he dropped off Karen at her flat and drove home. It was nine o’clock in the morning and Joe had been drinking since early afternoon the previous day. He knocked down and killed eight-year-old Rebecca Branson. He didn’t stop.
Later that day, the police called to his flat and arrested him for causing death by dangerous driving. He was breathalyzed and found to be five times over the legal limit. He was sentenced to twelve years in prison, but was released in 2004 after seven years, aged only 24.
Since then he had gone on to marry Karen and have three children. His life had returned to normal, which was more than can be said for the parents of Rebecca Branson.
It was pitch-dark by the time the pool car pulled up outside the semi-detached house in Meersbrook. Crime scene tape surrounded the house and a uniformed officer was outside the front door. The usual gawkers were standing on the pavement, arms folded firmly across their chests to stave off the cold, a look of angst and worry on their faces. Secretly, they
