Night Eyes (The Detective Temeke Crime Series Book 2) by Claire Stibbe
Authors: Claire Stibbe
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was still night, gray clouds rolling in from the west. He hadn’t slept for long. Ten, fifteen minutes tops.
Through a veil of tears, his mind wandered to the last few hours, mind diving further into a tunnel of fear. Things Ramsey said. Things he did. So many memories seemed to spool around Adam’s head and he couldn’t rid himself of the image of his father lying on the floor.
Adam wiped his eyes, chest tightening with each sob. He was hungry again, but not hungry enough to shout for the killer downstairs, one that would reel him in like a fish on a pole and then gut him down the middle.
Lifting his legs over the side of the bed, he struggled to stand, felt nauseous, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He had to pee.
The ensuite bathroom was small and dark with a shower that stank of mold. He sat on the toilet for a time, staring at his face in a mirror that hung over the sink. He looked different. Hair all mussed and creeping over one eye. There was an odd pallor to his skin like he’d aged a few years in a couple of hours and his eyes were shiny with fresh tears. He didn’t dare flush the toilet. Didn’t want Ramsey knowing his personal business.
There was a musical box on the chest of drawers, key projecting from a blue painted case. Gold stars were etched around the edge and there was a figure of a man in the moon on the lid. Adam walked over and stared at it for a moment, turned the key a few times and heard it sputter into life. A well-known melody he couldn’t place lasted for about seven seconds before running out of steam.
He had no idea why he did it. He was just lonely that was all. When he reached inside his pocket, fingers fumbling for those little slips of paper, he felt nothing but the lining of his pants against the warmth of his body. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face and he brushed them away with both hands. It was his one and only chance to get out. Ramsey was downstairs with a gun in his hand, likely circling the living room and deciding how much longer he could wait.
Adam couldn't wait.
He opened the small casement window and was met with a shiver of cold air and the smell of pine trees. Taking off his belt, he wound it into a ball and tucked it in his top pocket. Easing himself out onto the ledge, he pushed forward a foot at a time. The tiles felt cold beneath his hands and some began to move.
Dropping onto the ridge of the gabled roof, he slid down a narrow valley to the eaves. He knew the gutter wouldn't hold his weight and shuffling forward on his butt, he peered over the edge. Taking a deep breath, he laced his hands behind his head and jumped onto the grass below. There was a dull thud as his feet took the impact and he rolled forward on the ground, arms breaking his fall.
He lay stunned for a few seconds, legs tingling as if they would suddenly snap. Three tiles rained down onto the grass beside him, first a dull thud and then an echoing shatter. He struggled to stand as the noise diminished, limping for the edge of the trees. It would be too obvious to take the track back down to the service road where the trees stood further apart and left no hiding place. So he chose instead to head for the woods.
It was the sound of a loud groan that made him freeze. Peering around the east side of the house, he saw a blaze of light from the back porch. It was the musculature of a man’s back he saw, muscles contracting with every move. Ramsey was sitting on a tree stump lifting weights. Only he paused when he heard that sound, face turned slightly to one side.
It was now or never. Burrowing under the canopy of fir branches ahead, Adam hurdled over a low fence of railroad ties and down the slope into the darkness. Each breath burning in his lungs, he set off towards a pathway half-buried under a pile of pine needles. He didn’t look back, didn’t want to know if Ramsey had seen him. All he could hear was the crunch of detritus under his feet and as long as he could
Through a veil of tears, his mind wandered to the last few hours, mind diving further into a tunnel of fear. Things Ramsey said. Things he did. So many memories seemed to spool around Adam’s head and he couldn’t rid himself of the image of his father lying on the floor.
Adam wiped his eyes, chest tightening with each sob. He was hungry again, but not hungry enough to shout for the killer downstairs, one that would reel him in like a fish on a pole and then gut him down the middle.
Lifting his legs over the side of the bed, he struggled to stand, felt nauseous, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He had to pee.
The ensuite bathroom was small and dark with a shower that stank of mold. He sat on the toilet for a time, staring at his face in a mirror that hung over the sink. He looked different. Hair all mussed and creeping over one eye. There was an odd pallor to his skin like he’d aged a few years in a couple of hours and his eyes were shiny with fresh tears. He didn’t dare flush the toilet. Didn’t want Ramsey knowing his personal business.
There was a musical box on the chest of drawers, key projecting from a blue painted case. Gold stars were etched around the edge and there was a figure of a man in the moon on the lid. Adam walked over and stared at it for a moment, turned the key a few times and heard it sputter into life. A well-known melody he couldn’t place lasted for about seven seconds before running out of steam.
He had no idea why he did it. He was just lonely that was all. When he reached inside his pocket, fingers fumbling for those little slips of paper, he felt nothing but the lining of his pants against the warmth of his body. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face and he brushed them away with both hands. It was his one and only chance to get out. Ramsey was downstairs with a gun in his hand, likely circling the living room and deciding how much longer he could wait.
Adam couldn't wait.
He opened the small casement window and was met with a shiver of cold air and the smell of pine trees. Taking off his belt, he wound it into a ball and tucked it in his top pocket. Easing himself out onto the ledge, he pushed forward a foot at a time. The tiles felt cold beneath his hands and some began to move.
Dropping onto the ridge of the gabled roof, he slid down a narrow valley to the eaves. He knew the gutter wouldn't hold his weight and shuffling forward on his butt, he peered over the edge. Taking a deep breath, he laced his hands behind his head and jumped onto the grass below. There was a dull thud as his feet took the impact and he rolled forward on the ground, arms breaking his fall.
He lay stunned for a few seconds, legs tingling as if they would suddenly snap. Three tiles rained down onto the grass beside him, first a dull thud and then an echoing shatter. He struggled to stand as the noise diminished, limping for the edge of the trees. It would be too obvious to take the track back down to the service road where the trees stood further apart and left no hiding place. So he chose instead to head for the woods.
It was the sound of a loud groan that made him freeze. Peering around the east side of the house, he saw a blaze of light from the back porch. It was the musculature of a man’s back he saw, muscles contracting with every move. Ramsey was sitting on a tree stump lifting weights. Only he paused when he heard that sound, face turned slightly to one side.
It was now or never. Burrowing under the canopy of fir branches ahead, Adam hurdled over a low fence of railroad ties and down the slope into the darkness. Each breath burning in his lungs, he set off towards a pathway half-buried under a pile of pine needles. He didn’t look back, didn’t want to know if Ramsey had seen him. All he could hear was the crunch of detritus under his feet and as long as he could
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