Read Online Heathen/Nemesis by Shaun Hutson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shaun Hutson
Ads: Link
check the sender’s name. Neither had been sent by her dead husband. A party invitation, a free pass to a London nightclub.
She found the first of the photos sandwiched between a Medical card and a bank statement.
It showed Chris and Suzanne together.
Pale. Unsmiling.
Donna swallowed hard and looked at another.
It was of Chris dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. He was smiling, leaning against a tree. The land behind him looked barren: only fields and hills.
Where the hell was that?
There was another of Chris, alone again, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.
Donna felt that all too familiar feeling building inside her, that combination of rage and sadness.
Then she found the last two pictures.
‘Jesus,’ she murmured, her breathing deepening as she studied them. For long moments she sat looking at the pictures then, as quickly as she could, she gathered the spilled contents of the envelope together and replaced them, shoving the manilla container itself back into the drawer.
The photos she tucked into her jacket.
She moved quickly through the flat, switching off lights as she went, heading for the main door, concerned to make sure she had left everything as she’d found it.
She paused at the door, listening for any sounds of activity from the landing or other rooms. Hearing none, she slipped out and closed the door behind her. She scuttled downstairs, the photos still tucked in her coat, returned the key to Mercuriadis, thanked him for his help and hurried from the house, resisting the temptation to run back to the waiting Fiesta.
As Julie saw her approaching she leant across and unlocked the passenger side door, watching as her sister slid in and buckled up.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ she asked, starting the engine.
Donna was staring straight ahead, but even in the dull glow of the streetlamps Julie could see how pale her sister was.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Donna continued staring out of the windscreen.
‘Get us home,’ she said quietly, ‘as quick as you can.’
Twenty
Julie was the first to see the police car, parked close to the front door of the house. Even in the darkness she could make out two figures inside.
As the headlights of the Fiesta illuminated the short driveway the car was picked out and held in the beams as if by some magnetic force.
‘Donna ...’ Julie began but she was cut short.
‘I can see them,’ her sister said curtly. She gripped the photos inside her coat, tucking them into the waistband of her jeans.
One of the figures inside the car clambered out and watched as the Fiesta parked. Donna could not make out his features in the gloom.
Had someone reported her?
What were the police doing here at this time? She glanced at the Fiesta’s dashboard clock and saw that the time was 11.23 p.m.
Had the occupant of the flat next to Suzanne Regan’s reported mysterious movements in the dead girl’s place?
How would they know to look for her ?
Had Mercuriadis become suspicious?
Why should he?
Donna knew that the police could not possibly be at her house in connection with the visit to Suzanne Regan’s, yet she felt uneasy, the way teenagers feel who have stolen penny chews from a sweetshop.
She swung herself out of the car and walked across to the police car and its occupants.
The plain-clothes man approached her, clearing his throat.
Donna Ward, you are under arrest.
‘Mrs Ward, I’m very sorry to trouble you this late,’ he said apologetically. ‘My name is Mackenzie. I was at the hospital the other night.’
Donna felt a sudden, joyous feeling of relief sweep over her.
I realize this is a difficult time for you,’ Mackenzie went on, ‘but I would like to talk to you if I may.’
‘Come in,’ Donna said and the policeman followed her. When Julie entered she
She found the first of the photos sandwiched between a Medical card and a bank statement.
It showed Chris and Suzanne together.
Pale. Unsmiling.
Donna swallowed hard and looked at another.
It was of Chris dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. He was smiling, leaning against a tree. The land behind him looked barren: only fields and hills.
Where the hell was that?
There was another of Chris, alone again, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.
Donna felt that all too familiar feeling building inside her, that combination of rage and sadness.
Then she found the last two pictures.
‘Jesus,’ she murmured, her breathing deepening as she studied them. For long moments she sat looking at the pictures then, as quickly as she could, she gathered the spilled contents of the envelope together and replaced them, shoving the manilla container itself back into the drawer.
The photos she tucked into her jacket.
She moved quickly through the flat, switching off lights as she went, heading for the main door, concerned to make sure she had left everything as she’d found it.
She paused at the door, listening for any sounds of activity from the landing or other rooms. Hearing none, she slipped out and closed the door behind her. She scuttled downstairs, the photos still tucked in her coat, returned the key to Mercuriadis, thanked him for his help and hurried from the house, resisting the temptation to run back to the waiting Fiesta.
As Julie saw her approaching she leant across and unlocked the passenger side door, watching as her sister slid in and buckled up.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ she asked, starting the engine.
Donna was staring straight ahead, but even in the dull glow of the streetlamps Julie could see how pale her sister was.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Donna continued staring out of the windscreen.
‘Get us home,’ she said quietly, ‘as quick as you can.’
Twenty
Julie was the first to see the police car, parked close to the front door of the house. Even in the darkness she could make out two figures inside.
As the headlights of the Fiesta illuminated the short driveway the car was picked out and held in the beams as if by some magnetic force.
‘Donna ...’ Julie began but she was cut short.
‘I can see them,’ her sister said curtly. She gripped the photos inside her coat, tucking them into the waistband of her jeans.
One of the figures inside the car clambered out and watched as the Fiesta parked. Donna could not make out his features in the gloom.
Had someone reported her?
What were the police doing here at this time? She glanced at the Fiesta’s dashboard clock and saw that the time was 11.23 p.m.
Had the occupant of the flat next to Suzanne Regan’s reported mysterious movements in the dead girl’s place?
How would they know to look for her ?
Had Mercuriadis become suspicious?
Why should he?
Donna knew that the police could not possibly be at her house in connection with the visit to Suzanne Regan’s, yet she felt uneasy, the way teenagers feel who have stolen penny chews from a sweetshop.
She swung herself out of the car and walked across to the police car and its occupants.
The plain-clothes man approached her, clearing his throat.
Donna Ward, you are under arrest.
‘Mrs Ward, I’m very sorry to trouble you this late,’ he said apologetically. ‘My name is Mackenzie. I was at the hospital the other night.’
Donna felt a sudden, joyous feeling of relief sweep over her.
I realize this is a difficult time for you,’ Mackenzie went on, ‘but I would like to talk to you if I may.’
‘Come in,’ Donna said and the policeman followed her. When Julie entered she
Similar Books
