Was it paranoia? Perhaps it was, as the train pulled away from the station which was a three-minute walk from Frazier Street maternity hospital, with the little bundle of joy she cradled, sat looking out of the window. Was she being observed? Somebody had been following her she was sure. A man who looked like he slept on the streets. A scruffy individual of no fixed abode. She didn’t like to stare straight at him. In fact...

The boy was terrified, his eyes conveying fear like that he had never known. He was four years old and tied to a steel chair, a gag around his mouth, his tearful eyes staring at the man who stood by the doorway of the shed with a 7-inch wildcat Bowie knife, looking at the child with curiosity. He had killed before and knew he would this time. He preferred them as young as possible because they were more innocent, so a fou...

He reached the top of the stairs and paused to regain his breath. He sometimes wished that the small block of six flats had a lift, but then walking up and down to his home was, other than sometimes walking up to six miles a day, his only form of exercise at seventy-two. Switching on the hallway light, he made his way across to his flat door. The light barely illuminated the hallway, but it was enough for him to see what...