wasn’t very old.
She slipped the tissue back behind the toilet, and her hand brushed against something else. It felt like a picture frame. She pulled it out and stared at the faded photograph behind the glass.
It had been taken outside the front of the cottage. Dora was standing in the centre, wearing a bright floral dress and a big smile. She looked a good ten years younger. Flanking her were two unsmiling teenage boys with pale faces and red hair, one three or four years older than the other. It was obvious from their red hair and freckled faces that they were brothers.
It was also obvious that the younger of the two was the man she’d killed the previous night.
Ash swallowed, squinting at the photo. It might have been taken a long time back, andAsh might have been sick and exhausted, but she was absolutely sure it was him. It wasn’t the kind of face she was ever going to forget.
She put the photo back where she’d found it and stood up, no longer able to think about going to the toilet. She had to get out of there. The man she’d killed was Dora’s son and she’d bet her life that the second man hunting them, the one who’d shot at her in the woods, was the other son. Did they live here? It would explain the bloody tissue. It might also explain the fact that the photo was shoved behind the toilet rather than hanging on the wall where it could be seen. The other son would have known that Ash had seen his brother’s face, so would want any evidence of his identity hidden just in case she, Ash, showed up.
Which almost certainly meant that Dora was a part of this too.
But why would an elderly woman be involved in murder, not to mention the possible kidnapping and rape of young foreign women? That’s what Ash simply couldn’t understand.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she got out of there, and fast.
After flushing the toilet, she slowly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Shecould hear Dora singing to herself in soft, lilting tones in the kitchen. It set Ash’s teeth on edge, because the sound seemed so wrong coming from a woman who’d given birth to the two psychopaths who’d hunted her and her friends down. She looked over at the phone in the corner of the living room, wondering who it was Dora had been phoning. She was sure now that it hadn’t been the police.
Heart hammering in her chest, Ash crept over and picked up the phone, glancing over her shoulder to check that Dora was still busy before pressing the redial button.
The call went straight to a recorded message for a mobile phone.
Not the police.
Ash took a deep breath, put down the phone, and started towards the front door. As soon as she was outside she’d make a break for it, head back into the forest, try to find another house somewhere. There had to be someone round here who wasn’t involved in whatever the hell was going on.
She tried to turn the handle but it didn’t move. The door was locked and there was no sign of a key.
‘What’s wrong, my love? Where are you going? I’ve got your tea here.’
Ash turned round far too quickly, like a naughty schoolkid who’s been caught doing something wrong. She tried to look as casual as possible. ‘I was just going outside for some fresh air. I don’t feel too good.’
‘Sorry, I always keep that door double-locked.’
No, you don’t. I saw you walk out of it ten minutes ago .
‘Why don’t you sit down and have a nice cup of tea?’ Dora smiled and held up the steaming mug. ‘The police’ll be here soon.’
‘If I could just go outside.’
‘Of course you can, my love. No one’s stopping you. Go out through the kitchen door. Take your tea with you.’ She stepped aside, still smiling.
Ash could feel the adrenalin coursing through her, yet the situation seemed so utterly unreal that she was actually worried about appearing rude. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I just need a few gulps of fresh air.’
‘Course you do, my love. You’ve had a hard
She slipped the tissue back behind the toilet, and her hand brushed against something else. It felt like a picture frame. She pulled it out and stared at the faded photograph behind the glass.
It had been taken outside the front of the cottage. Dora was standing in the centre, wearing a bright floral dress and a big smile. She looked a good ten years younger. Flanking her were two unsmiling teenage boys with pale faces and red hair, one three or four years older than the other. It was obvious from their red hair and freckled faces that they were brothers.
It was also obvious that the younger of the two was the man she’d killed the previous night.
Ash swallowed, squinting at the photo. It might have been taken a long time back, andAsh might have been sick and exhausted, but she was absolutely sure it was him. It wasn’t the kind of face she was ever going to forget.
She put the photo back where she’d found it and stood up, no longer able to think about going to the toilet. She had to get out of there. The man she’d killed was Dora’s son and she’d bet her life that the second man hunting them, the one who’d shot at her in the woods, was the other son. Did they live here? It would explain the bloody tissue. It might also explain the fact that the photo was shoved behind the toilet rather than hanging on the wall where it could be seen. The other son would have known that Ash had seen his brother’s face, so would want any evidence of his identity hidden just in case she, Ash, showed up.
Which almost certainly meant that Dora was a part of this too.
But why would an elderly woman be involved in murder, not to mention the possible kidnapping and rape of young foreign women? That’s what Ash simply couldn’t understand.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she got out of there, and fast.
After flushing the toilet, she slowly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Shecould hear Dora singing to herself in soft, lilting tones in the kitchen. It set Ash’s teeth on edge, because the sound seemed so wrong coming from a woman who’d given birth to the two psychopaths who’d hunted her and her friends down. She looked over at the phone in the corner of the living room, wondering who it was Dora had been phoning. She was sure now that it hadn’t been the police.
Heart hammering in her chest, Ash crept over and picked up the phone, glancing over her shoulder to check that Dora was still busy before pressing the redial button.
The call went straight to a recorded message for a mobile phone.
Not the police.
Ash took a deep breath, put down the phone, and started towards the front door. As soon as she was outside she’d make a break for it, head back into the forest, try to find another house somewhere. There had to be someone round here who wasn’t involved in whatever the hell was going on.
She tried to turn the handle but it didn’t move. The door was locked and there was no sign of a key.
‘What’s wrong, my love? Where are you going? I’ve got your tea here.’
Ash turned round far too quickly, like a naughty schoolkid who’s been caught doing something wrong. She tried to look as casual as possible. ‘I was just going outside for some fresh air. I don’t feel too good.’
‘Sorry, I always keep that door double-locked.’
No, you don’t. I saw you walk out of it ten minutes ago .
‘Why don’t you sit down and have a nice cup of tea?’ Dora smiled and held up the steaming mug. ‘The police’ll be here soon.’
‘If I could just go outside.’
‘Of course you can, my love. No one’s stopping you. Go out through the kitchen door. Take your tea with you.’ She stepped aside, still smiling.
Ash could feel the adrenalin coursing through her, yet the situation seemed so utterly unreal that she was actually worried about appearing rude. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I just need a few gulps of fresh air.’
‘Course you do, my love. You’ve had a hard
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