It was late. She was tired. Her friends weren’t ready to leave the disco. Surely, just this once, it was okay to accept a lift home on her own
He shouted above the loud disco music. 'I can give you a lift home, if you like?'
'Thanks. Are you sure?' Lisa shouted back.
He nodded. 'Of course, no problem.'
She smiled gratefully. Pretty, auburn-haired Lisa was never short of offers to take her home. Normally she refused, but tonight she was tired and her friends were enjoying themselves too much to leave just yet. Besides, the buses were few and far between at this time of night.
Outside, in the dimly-lit car-park, Lisa started to have doubts. As Mark searched for the right key, apologising profusely for the time he was taking, she remembered the warnings her mother had given her about trusting strangers.
Mum would have a fit if she knew what she was doing. She wondered if she should go back and wait for her friends. But ca
'Let me help you with that,' he said as she got into the passenger seat and struggled with the seat-belt. She tried to tell him she was quite capable of fastening it herself, but he'd already leaned across and was fiddling with the belt.
His closeness — particularly his stale, beery breath — made her feel uncomfortable.
'There you go,' he said smiling, as the belt clicked into place. 'Now you can't get away from me.'
'I don't need to. I'm a black belt in karate,' she retorted, half in warning, half in jest. He held up his arms in mock surrender and laughed. 'Don't worry. I'm not the Beckton Butcher.'
Lisa's smile vanished. People in the Beckton area didn't usually make casual jokes about the murders that had brought terror to their suburban neighbourhood. It was a subject too close to home.
'Haven't they caught him yet?' asked Lisa.
'No,' replied Mark. 'He's too clever for the Old Bill. Three victims and they're still no nearer catching him.' Lisa changed the subject, leading the conversation to more mundane topics, such as where he lived and what he did for a living.
The more they talked, the more Lisa thought she didn't like him very much. She didn't like the sly little innuendos he kept making.
But it wasn't just that, there was something else as well. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him wasn't quite right.
'Listen,' he said. 'I know a nice little wine bar near here. Do you fancy a nightcap?'
Lisa didn't. 'I'm sorry, I really don't feel like it tonight. I've had a long day and I've got to get up early. Anyway, I thought we were going straight home.'
'Come on,' he urged. 'One drink won't do you any harm. I'll have you home in bed before you know it.' He laughed. 'Pardon the expression.'
What a creep, she thought. 'Honestly, I really don't feel up to it tonight.'
'Fair enough,' he said, seemingly resigned to her decision. Lisa was pleased he didn't push it, she even started to feel a bit guilty. Perhaps she'd been a bit harsh towards him.
She began making a conscious effort to be friendlier. After all, she reasoned, it was good of him to offer her a lift home and she hadn't really been all that appreciative.
[2]Mark had become a little subdued so she found herself doing more and more of the talking.
'Oh!' she said suddenly. 'You've got to turn off just up here by the tree. It's the next turning on the left.' 'Okay,' he replied. But as the side-turning got closer, Mark didn't slow down.
'There it is,' Lisa said pointing, thinking he hadn't seen it.
'Yeah, okay,' he said but then drove straight past.
'What are you doing?' demanded Lisa.
'I thought I'd make a slight detour to that wine bar. It's only a few minutes up the road. We'll just stop for a quick one. We'll only be 10 minutes.'
Lisa was furious. What made her even more angry was that she couldn't do anything about it. At this rate she'd be home even later than her friends. If only she'd followed her mum's advice about trusting strangers. Or rather, not trusting them.
At least she knew she could look after herself. By the time they reached The Beckton Wine Lodge, she'd even started to cheer up. Perhaps she'd overreacted. Maybe Mark was right. What harm would one drink do? She might even get to like him.
All the same, she was still tired and would give anything to be home in her lovely warm bed. She wasted no time in drinking her grapefruit juice and tried not to show her irritation as Mark lingered determinedly over his glass of white wine. Finally, reluctantly, he drained his glass and put it down. 'Would you like another one?' he asked hopefully.
'No, thanks,' said Lisa as she stood up. 'I really must be getting home now.'
'Yeah, sure,' he answered, realising by her manner that the matter wasn't open for discussion.' He got to his feet a little unsteadily.
'Are you sure you're all right to drive?' she asked, hoping he'd say no. 'I could get a taxi from here.'
'I'm fine. Besides, you'll never get one at this time of night.'
As they walked to the car, Mark put his arm around Lisa. She considered asking him to take it away but decided it was easier to say nothing. It was a failing of hers, taking the easy way out.
'It's a full moon,' he remarked, looking up.
'Yes,' said Lisa. 'You'd better get me home before I turn into a werewolf.'
He laughed and unlocked her car door, making sure that she was safely inside. Once again, despite Lisa's assurances that she could manage, he helped her with her seat-belt.
Everything he did irritated her now, but she tried to remain pleasant. Soon she'd be home, tucked up in bed with a cup of hot chocolate. She yawned loudly. Unfortunately Mark had other ideas.
'Look, I know you want to go home but I want to show you something first,' he told her as he drove out of the car park. Lisa tried to control her rising anger. 'No thank you. I'd really much rather you took me straight home,' she said icily.
'I just want to show you something,' he repeated. 'It won't take long. I promise.'
Lisa crossed her legs and stared out of the window, incensed that he was ignoring what she said. She was feeling increasingly anxious about the whole situation. A man who ignored a woman when she said no was a dangerous prospect.
She fiddled nervously with the buttons on her coat. She was feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
Mark drove for a few miles, chatting all the time. He seemed nervous too, as though he was frightened to stop talking. Eventually he slowed the car down and started to indicate right.
'Here we are,' he said. 'I told you it wouldn't take long.'
[3]The car headlights lit up a large sign as he turned into a grass track. Oh no, thought Lisa, not Beckton Lake.
'I like coming here at night,' said Mark. 'It's lovely when there's a full moon.'
Lisa wasn't listening. The Beckton Butcher's last victim had been murdered at the lake. She held her handbag tightly to her chest to try to stop the thumping in her heart.
Mark parked the car so that it overlooked the lake and switched off the engine. The silence was deafening. Something was going to happen, she was sure.
'So quiet here, isn't it?' he said. 'There's no one for miles.' No, thought Lisa. It was the
perfect place for a murder. No one to hear the screams. She was shaking now.
Mark didn't say anything for what seemed like several minutes. He just sat staring at the lake and its marble-like surface shimmering in the moonlight. He seemed almost hypnotised.
'Perfect,' he said simply, then he turned towards Lisa. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she agreed. 'But I really think you ought to take me home now.'
'Soon,' he said as he leaned across and tried to kiss her.
Lisa pushed him away but he grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her towards him. 'Get off!' she shouted.
She could feel his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms, bruising her skin. Once again she smelled the alcohol on his breath — it was stronger this time — as his mouth came closer towards her.
Lisa struggled desperately, screaming at him to leave her alone, but he wouldn't stop. She felt his coarse lips slobbering around her face and filling her with revulsion.
She shook her head frantically to avoid him. But, inevitably, he proved too strong for her and his disgusting mouth with its smelly breath pressed hard against her.
By now she could hardly move or even breathe, but she still resisted. Somehow she managed to free her mouth for a moment and, seizing her chance, she did the only thing she could think of: she bit him on the cheek.
He clutched his face. 'You bitch!' he shouted. Lisa was pressed against the passenger door, breathing heavily and watching him. She didn't feel scared, just extremely angry.
She could feel her heart pounding as she watched Mark grab a dirty tissue from the dashboard and wipe the blood from his cheek. For some reason he'd suddenly become calm. He wasn't angry any more, he was staring at the lake again, totally oblivious to her.
Without taking her eyes off him, Lisa opened her handbag. The adrenalin was really flowing now. She'd known all along that she could look after herself. She'd enjoy this. She deserved it. And so did he.
Mark was completely unprepared for what happened next. His eyes were still fixed on the quiet, peaceful scene in front of them. He didn't see the soft glint of moonlight on the knife Lisa took slowly from her bag. At first he didn't even feel the pain as she lunged forward silently in the dark.
For a moment a look of confusion appeared on his face as he stared down at the knife protruding from his chest. He looked up at Lisa, incredulous. Just like all the others had. Then she saw the life drain from his face and he died.
Lisa smiled. It was a shame Mark's mum hadn't warned him about trusting strangers — especially strangers known as the Beckton Butcher.