Page 65 of The Psychopath Next Door

This summer had been all about testing her, preparing her ... and using her. Now everything had accelerated. By killing Patrick, Rose had begun to run before she could walk. Instead of a slow emergence and understanding of herself, she had come out too early. A butterfly smashing its way out of its chrysalis with a hammer, exercising no caution.

Rose had never been part of the original plan, of course. Fiona could never have predicted that she would find herself living next door to another of her kind. It was almost too perfect.

However, involving Rose added an extra layer of complexity, which had become even more complicated when the girl pushed Patrick down those steps. Fiona hadn’t intended for that to happen. The plan had been for Rose to witness Fiona helping Patrick to have an accident, and the girl’s reaction would tell Fiona everything she needed to know.

In taking action and saving Fiona by killing Patrick herself, Rose had exceeded Fiona’s expectations. And it was exciting, sure, but it was also scary. With everything happening with Ethan and Emma at the same time, Fiona needed to pause. She still had to have that conversation with Rose about her true nature and the reason she had wanted Max and Patrick dead. She needed to ensure events didn’t spiral out of control. To make sure that Rose didn’t screw up the plan and that she was primed for what lay ahead. Rose needed, too, to understand how important it was for her to stick close to Fiona – to see the value of having a mentor.

Patience, Fiona, she told herself.Don’t rush things.So far, it was all going so well. When she’d set out on this journey of revenge, she hadn’t really thought much about what she would do when she was finished. Now she was able to see the future – a future in which Rose would help disguise her as well as giving her new purpose. She couldn’t afford to mess it up.

She would talk to Rose as soon as she got back from her bloody mini-break.

She sighed.

And on top of all the stuff with the Doves, there was the delivery from Lucy.

For a short while, in prison, she’d felt a bond with Lucy. The thrill of discovering another like herself. Teaming up, working as apair to get what they wanted. If Fiona had remained in prison, she had no doubt they would have gone on to be a power couple in there. A formidable alliance.

And yes, she had promised Lucy she would help make her nemeses’ lives a misery, and she still intended to do it – but Lucy needed to understand that getting revenge for Maisie’s death had to be Fiona’s priority. She couldn’t afford any distractions.

Unfortunately, Lucy was actuallyincreasingthe pressure on her. A couple of days ago, a woman had turned up on a motorbike and had handed Fiona a small package. Inside was a tiny mobile phone with one number stored in it.

‘Keep it hidden,’ the woman had said, not lifting her visor. Then she had ridden away, leaving Fiona wondering if this was another woman Lucy had met inside or if she was merely a professional courier. She had put the phone away, wondering if and when Lucy would call to hassle her.

Now, she and Lola passed through the gate into the first field and the dog immediately stopped, backing up and hiding behind Fiona’s legs.

Tommy was in the middle of the field with his two German shepherds.

Fiona had long dreamed of being able to control animals with her mind. It was the superpower she wished for; much better than invisibility, or being able to fly. Now, she fantasised about silently commanding the two German shepherds to turn on their owner. Rip his nuts off. Tear his throat out. Lola would join in, and together the three dogs would feast, and Fiona would be there too, dipping her hands into the wounds, smearing herself with his blood, howling into the emptiness ...

‘Oi! You! I want a word with you.’

He strode towards her, the most inelegant man she’d ever seen, walking like his balls were too big. There was something, shesupposed, brutishly attractive about him. Every now and then she would sleep with a man, and Tommy looked like he’d get the job done – the kind of bloke who’d screw you without worrying too much about your feelings.

She didn’t want him to think she was waiting for him to reach her, so she walked along the edge of the field, saying, ‘Come on, Lola,’ and forcing Tommy to re-route, taking a diagonal path until he caught up with her, and even then she didn’t slow down, so he had to walk beside her.

‘Are you going to stop?’ He was panting a little. Out of shape.

‘I’m not planning to.’

He muttered something under his breath. ‘I want to know if you saw anything. Before my son’s accident.’

‘Nope.’

‘Because Eric told me what you said to him and Albie.’

‘Oh yes? And what was that?’

He furrowed his brow. She was really annoying him, which sent a little ripple of pleasure through her. She remembered what she’d said to them that day:Why don’t you go back to your little house and do what you do best. Wank yourselves into a stupor.Not her finest, wittiest moment, but it had had the desired effect.

And it delivered here once again, as Tommy was suddenly tongue-tied, not wanting to repeat the words back to this woman he didn’t know or understand.

‘You threatened them,’ was what he settled for.

‘No I didn’t. They were harassing the children I was with. I told them to stop and go home. End of.’

She expected him to mention what he’d witnessed earlier this week: the hug with Ethan. Instead, he said, ‘Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?’

‘Ever heard of a place called Australia?’

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