It’s hard to describe that thing, the creature that attacked me up on Wildbridge Hill, but I’ll do my best. When I turned and looked at it, the creature was already backing away from me. It was humanoid, but not bipedal, as far as I could tell; the creature moved from where it had left me using all four of its limbs. That seemed to be the creature’s natural method of motion, and it was fast, Howard, really fast. It’s face… well, all that I could really make out in the darkness was the creature’s eyes. They were yellow, and when I say yellow, I don’t mean in a dazzling sort of way…. they didn't glow, or anything like that. No, the creatures eyes were just yellow, a drab, dull, shade of yellow, circled around a dark iris and pupil. I can still remember how those eyes gazed into mine as the creature backed away on all fours, slowly disappearing into the darkness. I can remember the sound that it made, too, its body rustling through the long grass; it was a little like the noise you hear when a strong wind blows through the branches and leaves of a tree. The creature… it vanished into a large patch of undergrowth nearby, and I could hear twigs and plants snapping under its weight as it moved along. Then there was just silence. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. I was still freezing cold. A ferociously sharp pain shot through my body, a pain so bad that it completely knocked me out, right there and then. The next thing I recall, Howard, is waking up, in an ambulance, with a paramedic, a woman, holding my hand…

Kate Williams woke up. She felt Howard Trenton’s hand on her, still clutched around her breast. She smiled. Kate became aware of a soft, rhythmic motion from behind her. She rolled onto her back, catching Howard unaware. Kate grinned.

“Are you messing around with yourself, Howard?” She asked. Howard could hardly deny it; he’d got his stiff cock in the palm of his hand. He blushed.

“I was thinking about what we did earlier.” He lied. Howard had been thinking about one of his earliest murders.

“Were you now?” Whispered Kate. She pulled up close to Howard, and Kate stroked her fingertips firstly across his chest, and then worked them slowly downwards. Kate gently prised Howard’s hand away from his dick, and then wrapped her own fingers around its length. “Would you like to do it again, Howard?” Kate wanted to know. She felt Howard’s cock throb.

“Yes, Miss Williams. I’d like that very much.” Replied Howard. Kate let go of Howard, and pushed herself up on the bed. She turned herself around, until she was on all fours, and then she raised her backside into the air, exposing her private parts to Howard.

“Come on then, Howard.” She said, eager to be fucked again. Howard got up, onto his knees, and moved across the bed, until he was backed up against Kate. He rubbed the end of his stiff cock up and down the length of Kate’s vagina a few times, and then he entered her. Kate let out a groan as she felt Howard sink into her. If only the rest of the college students could see us now, thought Kate, as Howard began to thrust his cock backwards and forwards inside her pussy…

Chapter Twelve

Howard Trenton stopped walking. In front of him, just outside Alfie Whitehouse’s home, were two police cars, together with an ambulance. A number of local residents were gathered outside, including Lucas and Kay. Howard swallowed hard, and his heartbeat picked up pace. He took a deep breath, then continued to walk up the road that he lived in, moving towards where his cousin was standing. Lucas noticed Howard, and broke from the small crowd.

“What’s going on, Lucas?” Asked Howard, feigning ignorance.

“It’s not good news, Howard.” Replied his cousin.

“Why, what’s happened?”

“It’s Alfie. His sister came around to see him today, because he hasn’t answered his phone for three or four days. She couldn’t get any response after knocking on his door, so she called the police in a panic. They had to break down the door to get in.” Lucas informed him.

“And?” Asked Howard.

“The police found Alfie upstairs, in bed. He’s dead, Howard. From what one of the paramedics have just told me, it looks like he died in his sleep…probably a heart attack.” Said Lucas. Howard put his hand to his mouth, play-acting.

“Oh no, that’s awful news. Poor Mister Whitehouse.” He responded.

“I know. Do you want to know something, Howard?” Asked Lucas.

“No, what?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if Alfie didn’t die from a broken heart, you know, because of Buttons going missing. He couldn't get over that cat disappearing. Every time that I spoke to Alfie about it, I could see that it was destroying him.” Confided Lucas. Howard smiled.

“They were best friends, weren't they?” He said.

“Yeah, they were that alright.” Agreed Lucas. Howard looked up, towards Alfie Whitehouse’s bedroom window, and grinned. Suddenly, for just a split-second, a figure appeared in the window, before disappearing again. This unsettled Howard, and the grin was wiped off his face in an instant.

Detective Tom Grogan moved away from Alfie Whitehouse’s bedroom window.

“Is everything okay, boss?” Asked Police Constable Neil Spears.

“Yeah… it was just some kid… anyway, I’ve finished up here, for now.” Said Tom.

“What do you think?” Asked Neil.

“You were right to call me out. Something’s definitely not right here. Do me a favour, Neil, radio through to the station, have them send some scene of crime boys over. I want some technicians down here as soon as possible.” Requested Tom.

“Yes sir, straight away.” Nodded Neil Spears.

“In the meantime, I’m going back downstairs. I want to check out that bathroom again.” Said Tom. He glanced over, towards the dead body of Alfie Whitehouse, before leaving the bedroom.

Tom Grogan bumped into one of his colleagues in the downstairs hallway.

“When was the last time that Mister Whitehouse was seen by the neighbours again?” He asked the young lady.

“The weekend, sir. At the very least, Mister Whitehouse was alive on Sunday afternoon, because he spoke to his sister on the telephone, according to her.” Replied the Police Constable. Tom stroked thoughtfully at his long, floppy moustache for a moment.

“Is Mrs Dunning still in the lounge?” Tom wanted to know.

“Yes sir.” Came the reply. Tom nodded.

“Go and keep her company… make her a brew. I’ll be wanting to chat with Mrs Dunning in a few minutes.” Said Tom.

“Yes sir.” Replied the Police Constable. Tom carried on through the hallway, into the kitchen. Beyond that, lay Alfie Whitehouse’s bathroom, which was of particular interest to Tom Grogan. He entered the small room, peering over the side of the bathtub, and there they were; a set of muddy footprints.

“Trainers. Those footprints came from a pair of trainers… soft hi-tops, yes, definitely soft hi-tops.” Said Tom Grogan, thinking out loud. “Not the sort of footwear that’d be worn by a seventy six year old man.” He added. No, those prints have come from footwear favoured by a youth. Someone maybe in their late teens, or early twenties… a bit like that weird-looking kid that was staring up and grinning at Alfie Whitehouse’s bedroom window a few minutes ago, thought Tom.

Tom Grogan knelt down, and inspected the footprints more closely.

There’s sand amongst that dried-up mud, he observed, quite a bit of it, too. Whoever found themselves with a reason to stand in Mr Whitehouse’s bath had visited the beach recently, Considered Tom. He walked out of the bathroom, back into the kitchen. Tom got down on his knees again.

“Well, what do you know. More footprints. Much harder to see, on this dark floor, but they’re here alright.” Tom rubbed the end of his finger over the top of one of the prints, dislodging just a tiny piece of dried-up dirt, that stuck to his fingertip. He brought the finger up close to his face. “Yep, whoever left these prints was the same person who stood in Alfie Whitehouse’s bath. Here’s that sand again.” Said Tom, inspecting the small, glass-like grains. I think there was an intruder in here… but why the fuck would they be standing in Alfie’s bath? Puzzled Tom. He stood up, and strolled back into the bathroom. Well, there’s a window above the bath… but it certainly couldn’t be an entry or exit point. You can only open the top part of it, and it’s way too small for anybody to climb in or out of. “Perhaps the intruder was disturbed by Mr Whitehouse… and so came in here to hide?” Said Tom to himself. Yes, but there’s nothing to hide behind… no shower, so no shower curtain. Why just stand there, upright, in the bath? It doesn't make any sense…