I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Frank. Let’s take a wee look-see in your goodie bag. Maybe that will shed some light on your noble and purely romantic intentions.” The man peered into the backpack. “Duct tape. Condoms. Rope. Hunting knife. And another syringe full of something bad. I know a murder kit when I see one.”

“So, what now, big shot? You some Batman wannabe? You gonna kill me in cold blood, or doesn’t your code of ethics allow that?” Frank’s vision had dimmed at the edges, his voice beginning to slur. Biting the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood, he fought against the effects of the sedative.

“I’m no hero, so you can forget that, and my code of ethics don’t extend to streaks of shite like you.”

“You’re full of crap. If you were gonna kill me, you would have just shot me.” Frank’s voice was getting louder with each word.

The Scotsman slowly shook his head. “Gunshot wounds leave a mess. Leave evidence. This way’s… neater. No one will ever know what became of you, and I don’t think you’ll be missed by many, either.”

Spittle flew as Frank tried to sit up. “Fucking do it, then, if you’ve got the balls! Or I’m gonna kill y—”

The Scotsman snapped out his right foot in a blur of motion, catching Frank full in the throat. As Frank fell back, choking, the Scotsman looked on with a cold detachment.

Frank’s eyes bulged as he strained to take another breath through his crushed windpipe. His heels rapped against the floor in a steady beat as he slowly asphyxiated, choking on his own blood.

4

Danny Gunn sat on the arm of the settee and looked around the room. The house was typical working-class Miami, neat and clean. He liked Coral Gables. The houses here were a mixed bag, some large and luxurious, others small and homely. Chrissie Haims’ abode was simple yet stylish. The walls were painted a pale shade of yellow; the furniture was all high quality. No dust bunnies to be found hiding beneath the couch in this house. Danny rubbed the chenille fabric of a throw pillow between his thumb and forefinger as Frank Bradshaw was racked by a final spasm.

A brief childhood memory of making snow angels flitted into Danny’s mind, dying at the same time as Frank’s final motions. Danny finished removing the cold cream from his face, then picked up his cell phone from the teak table.

Chrissie answered on the second ring. “Danny?”

“Aye, it’s me.”

“Did he come to the house like you said he would?” Her voice was quiet and conspiratorial, her words laced with a nervous tone.

“He did.”

Chrissie made a sharp intake of breath. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Chrissie. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you anymore.”

“I can’t believe it. I didn’t even realise he was stalking me until I met you at the gym, but once you pointed him out I saw him at least half a dozen times in the next two days.”

“Aye, and he was getting closer and closer.