Sometimes all you need is a drink. Sometimes all you need is a shoulder to cry on.
There was virtually nothing as horrifying or as exhilarating as the call Simone received on Monday morning.
It was a police officer who told her off-handedly, “Hello Ms Prescott. We are calling from the police station to let you know that we’ve caught the offender. Your presence is required.”
“What for?” She squeaked out, gripping the phone tightly to her ear.
“Paperwork… It’s just to conclude the procedure,” he answered without delay.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she told him almost mechanically.
“Thank you,” he said and, without further ado, hung up.
Simone had to sit down quickly for fear of falling. The police officer had told her they caught the stalker, but hadn’t divulged his name.
And wh
