The Message

"I have a message for you." I didn't recognise the voice on the phone. "Marcus said he'll see you soon." The phone went dead.

Marcus Jones, a name that filled me with dread, my ex, imprisoned for beating me nearly to death. There was no way he should be out all ready, they gave him fifteen years.

I reached up to the scar below my right eye, his parting gift. How did he have my number? Did that mean he knew where I lived? I reached for the phone and dialled a number I had imprinted on my memory. "Can you put me through to PC Brookes please."

"There's no PC Brookes here. Can someone else help you?"

"Er ... yes ... maybe. I got this phone call."

"Heavy breather?"

"No. A message from someone from my past. I ... I'm scared. If he finds me ..."

"Okay, I'm putting you through to CID." The theme tune to The Bill echoed down the line.

"Miss, I'm DS Wilkins. Would I be right in presuming you were a victim of this man ... er ... you didn't give his name?"

"Marcus Jones. He was to serve fifteen years for what he did to me but the message said he'd see me soon. Is he one of the prisoners they're letting out early because of the overcrowding?"

"Just a sec. Jones, Marcus." I heard the clicking of computer keys. "It would appear he was on the list for early release ..." I took a deep breath and held it. "Miss, you okay?" I couldn't answer. "I said he WAS on the list. That is until he attacked a prison guard, put him in intensive care. They're charging him with attempted murder. It's doubtful he'll ever get out." I breathed out. Tears filled my eyes. "You're safe Miss."

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