The Diary Of Pamela D.

Thrusting Tessa behind her, Pamela reached back blindly with her hand until she found the light switch and opened it. The sudden glare seemed to diminish Albert's presence, as though removal of the dark subdued part of the essential nature of his being. Regardless, he still dwarfed the two girls in stature. He held a long knife in his left hand and his mien was at once every bit as unreasoning and malevolent as Pamela remembered.

'Go,' Pamela hissed to Tessa, 'get out of here. It's me he wants. Don't argue with me! Just do it!'

There was an unnatural stillness in Albert's stance as he appraised Pamela speculatively and allowed her friend to leave. There was no longer any sign of the slow-witted, uneducated Albert whom everyone thought of as a simple but likable lout. Everything about him was different, his dialect, his bearing, the cold intent in his eyes . . . even the timbre of his voice.

'You're a fool, Pamela,' he told her, speaking slowly, as though giving full emphasis to his every word. 'Theo's not the man you want. I am. And what's more, we both know it.' He approached her until she was backed up against the wall. He reached over and bolted the door, which Pamela knew to be built of solid oak two inches thick.

'The truth is,' he continued, 'Theo doesn't give you what you want. You want to be dominated . . . controlled. You remember how it was between us.'

'I remember that you tried to force me. And then, when I wouldn't give in, you tried to kill me,' Pamela said, biting down on the fearful quaver in her voice. 'I remember you telling me where you put those girls' bodies.'

'Ah, so you're responsible for CID dragging the tarn.' He shrugged. 'It makes no difference, really. They were just experiments.' He caressed her cheek with his knife, causing her to gasp with fear and flinch away from him. 'But you, you're no longer just an experiment, Pamela. You're exactly what I've been looking for.'

Though trembling all over now, she fought down the useless urge to flee and forced herself to look into his mad eyes for the first time. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' he said, trying to brush his lips against her own, 'that for all these years I have been looking for the perfect woman, someone who is a match for me, who will stand up to me. Someone whom I wouldn't kill.'

'No?' She tried to keep the full attention of his eyes on her own while her hand strayed behind her, seeking . . .