Killing Kate. Alex Lake

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      She stared at him.

      ‘Are you serious?’

      ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m from Newton, originally. But I live in Moore now. I’m often in Stockton Heath. Where in the village do you live?’

      She told him; she was in the centre, and God she was glad he lived a few miles away. It wasn’t far, but it was something.

      ‘Amazing,’ he said. ‘What are the odds of meeting someone from the same neck of the woods over here? I can’t believe it.’

      Neither could Kate. This was getting worse. She didn’t ever want to see him again, never mind have him bump into her in her hometown. It was unbelievable. And there was something familiar about him, now she thought about it, but that could easily be the fact that she knew now that they were from the same place.

      ‘Did you grow up there?’ he said.

      She nodded. ‘Born and bred.’

      ‘I like the area,’ he said. ‘Quiet, but I like living in a sleepy village where nothing ever happens. It feels safe, insulated from all the craziness in the world.’

      Kate bridled at the suggestion that her home was so boring; she thought it could be quite lively, especially on a Friday night, but then he was older, and probably didn’t participate in the nightlife of the village to the degree that she did. Besides, before she’d left for Turkey there had been a big local story.

      ‘It wasn’t so sleepy last week,’ she said. ‘They found that body.’

      It was the biggest news in the village Kate could remember. A woman her age had been killed only a few days before she left for Turkey. A dog walker – a magistrate out with his new puppy, Bella – had found a body stuffed into a hedge near the reservoir. It was a young girl, Jenna Taylor, in her late twenties. She’d been strangled, there was speculation that she had been raped, too, although the news reports had been vague, which only served to fuel rumours that something really sick had taken place.

      ‘I heard,’ Mike said. ‘I read about it online. I haven’t been following it, though. It happened about a week after I got here, and you know what it’s like on holiday. You tend to switch off. One of my friends has been keeping track of it. He said they still haven’t found whoever did it.’

      ‘I heard they arrested her boyfriend,’ Kate said. ‘One of my friends is addicted to reading about it, but she’s like that with every news event.’

      ‘Did you know the victim?’ Mike said. ‘She was about your age, wasn’t she?’

      ‘She was,’ Kate said. ‘But I didn’t know her. She moved from Liverpool a few years ago. We would have been at high school together though, if she was from Stockton Heath.’

      What she didn’t say was what her friends had been teasing her about ever since: she and Jenna Taylor could have been sisters. They had the same long hair, lithe figure and dark eyes. It was no more than a coincidence, but still, she didn’t like it. It wasn’t the kind of coincidence that you found intriguing; it was the other kind, the kind that you found disturbing.

      Mike shook his head. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘I go away for a few weeks and all hell breaks loose.’

      Kate gave a half smile. She wasn’t listening any more. She’d had enough of making conversation. All she wanted was to go back to her hotel and her friends.

      She finished the drink and put the cup on the counter. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I have to get moving.’

      There was a flicker of disappointment on Mike’s face. ‘You want to meet up later?’

      Kate paused. For a second she felt almost obliged to say yes, but she caught herself. She didn’t have to be polite. She owed him nothing.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. She searched for an excuse – what? A prior engagement? Didn’t want to leave her friends – but none came. ‘I don’t think so,’ she repeated, simply.

      ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I understand. From the look on your face, I’m guessing that you won’t want to meet up another night, either?’

      She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

      She put her hand on the front door to open it.

      ‘You know your way home?’ Mike said. ‘Where are you staying?’

      She didn’t want to give him the name of their hotel. ‘Near the harbour.’

      ‘Go out of the main door and turn right,’ he said. ‘It’s not far. I can call you a cab, though, if you’d like?’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘No thanks. I’ll walk. I could do with the fresh air.’

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