He got his arm behind the driver's head and rammed him face first into the steering wheel. After the third sickening crunch, the man finally went limp. Still pumped with adrenaline, he jumped out of the car and hustled round to the driver's side. When he opened the door, the driver slumped towards the road. Vance squatted down and got one shoulder under his torso. Vance staggered as far as the hedgerow that bordered the road. Breathing heavily, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, he dumped the driver on to the top bar of a metal field gate, then tipped him over on the far side. He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath, letting himself recover from the overdose of fight or flight hormones. Then he returned to the car, this time to the driver's seat. He couldn't help wondering how long it would take before someone noticed Jason Collins was still on the Therapeutic Community Wing. And Jacko Vance wasn't. Before they understood that one of the most notorious and prolific serial killers the UK had ever produced was on the loose. And keen to make up for lost time. This time, his grin lasted a lot longer than a few minutes. Excerpted from The Retribution by Val McDermid All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.