Only Darkness
Dark, edgy and unbearably tense, this extraordinarily accomplished first novel is both a love story and a gripping psychological thriller of immense power.Debbie Sykes is a young college lecturer whose ordered life is about to be changed forever. One stormy winter’s night, waiting for the late train home, Debbie is acutely aware of being alone – the woman who usually shares her evening vigil is not there. Vulnerability turns to fear, though, when she turns to see a sinister figure looming between her and the safety of the street. The next day, she hears that the missing woman has been found murdered by the man they call the Strangler, a brutal killer who dumps his victims on isolated stretches of railway track.The police renew their efforts to find the murderer before he strikes again, but how much time do they really have? When Debbie’s story is publicized by an unscrupulous journalist, it seems as though the jaws of an invisible trap are beginning to close around her – strange things start to happen and the foundations of Debbie’s life subtly shift. Only Rob Neave, ex-policeman and college security officer, appears aware of the danger but he is distracted by his own tragic past. The clock is ticking, and it will be midnight far sooner than anyone thinks.
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DANUTA REAH
ONLY DARKNESS
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublisher 1999
Copyright © Danuta Reah 1999
Danuta Reah asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780006513155
Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2016 ISBN: 9780007476558 Version: 2016-10-04
Contents
It was a Thursday in December, the night that Debbie saw the killer.
She had just finished her evening class and was on her way out of the college. It was late – about nine-thirty. The students had kept her talking after the class was finished, and by the time she had dumped her books in the staff room and grabbed her coat, Les Walker was standing in the entrance lobby waiting to lock up after her.
He jingled his keys as she approached and tapped his watch meaningfully. ‘Not got a home to go to?’
‘Doesn’t seem much point now,’ she said, looking at her watch in response to his gesture. ‘Sorry. Are you on again first thing?’ Debbie hated keeping people waiting. ‘Have I stopped you from going home?’
Les shook his head. He didn’t seem too put out. ‘No, it’s gone ten by the time we’re finished here. Got to check all the rooms on the top yet.’
He opened the heavy entrance door. A gust of wind pushed it in against him, and a spatter of rain hit the floor. ‘Wild night,’ he observed. ‘Got your car in the top car park? We’ve not locked it yet.’
‘No.’ Debbie looked apprehensively at the shiny dark of the pavement. ‘I’m on the train.’
‘You be careful then.’ Les was serious now. ‘Remember those girls …’
Thanks, Les, I needed that. ‘That was way over outside Doncaster.’
‘Not got him yet. He’ll do it again. That kind of nutter, he’ll keep on till he’s caught. They want hanging, doing something like that, I’ll tell you …’
The sound of feet on the steps outside silenced him, and Rob Neave, the security officer, pushed his way through the door. His hair was plastered to his face with the rain, and water was dripping from his jacket. ‘Finished over here?’ he said to Les. He acknowledged Debbie with a nod.
‘Just got the top floor to do.’ As Rob Neave had overall control of the day-to-day running of the building, and a reputation as a bit of a new broom, the caretakers were wary of him. ‘Just seeing Debbie out. I was telling her …’
The wind gusted again, and the sound of a window swinging back against its hinges stopped him. He looked at Debbie. ‘You be careful, now.’ He disappeared up the stairs, leaving her with Rob Neave.
She finished fastening her briefcase and looked towards the door. ‘I’d better be off,’ she said uncertainly as the wind sent rain spattering across the windows.
‘Are you in the top car park? The lights are out. I’ll walk across with you.’ The car park, late in the evening, was dark and deserted.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Thanks. But I’m on the train.’
He looked at her thoughtfully. She was aware that her mac was only showerproof and her shoes were lightweight for this kind of weather. It was fine this morning! She pulled out her umbrella, and he shook his head and laughed. He held the door open for her and watched her down the steps as she struggled to open her umbrella against the wind, then he closed the door, leaving her to the mercy of the storm.
And it was a storm. The rain was drenching, and the wind carried it round, up, under her umbrella, driving against her, freezing her face as she tried to pull the collar of her coat around her. She hurried down the hill towards the station. She was later than usual, but there was a chance the bad weather might have delayed her train and she had some hope of catching it. If not, she was in for a half-hour wait on a freezing platform. There was a small waiting room, with seats and a wall heater, but it was always locked when the last of the station staff left at nine.
