You might call me a successful entrepreneur, or businessman. A lot of people would envy my position. I am in my late fifties, and you could call me a career-minded individual. My name is Tristram Foley. It used to be Gary, but Gary is a dull name. I didn’t change it officially, just told new people I met, and they knew no different. I’m not the most attractive person you’ll ever meet, but certainly not the worst. When I s...

Was it paranoia? Perhaps it was, as the train pulled away from the station which was a three-minute walk from Frazier Street maternity hospital, with the little bundle of joy she cradled, sat looking out of the window. Was she being observed? Somebody had been following her she was sure. A man who looked like he slept on the streets. A scruffy individual of no fixed abode. She didn’t like to stare straight at him. In fact...

The boy was terrified, his eyes conveying fear like that he had never known. He was four years old and tied to a steel chair, a gag around his mouth, his tearful eyes staring at the man who stood by the doorway of the shed with a 7-inch wildcat Bowie knife, looking at the child with curiosity. He had killed before and knew he would this time. He preferred them as young as possible because they were more innocent, so a fou...