Who would prowl around my house at this time of night? Then I remember. I’m not exactly short of enemies at the moment, that’s for sure. Perhaps Turner has come to finish what he started. I can’t imagine it being Phillip Bracken – skulking around someone’s garden in the shadows wouldn’t be his style. It could be Bryony, having sent someone round after what I did to her, or Denise – I’m not exactly her favourite person either, especially now I’ve given the details of her car to the police. And I’ve yet to let them know she was with Rob before he died.
The call connects straight away. I hear a bang. It sounds like the conservatory door. I grab a heavy vase from the windowsill. “I think someone’s in the house,” I hiss at the operator as my breath catches. “And I’m here on my own with my eight-year-old son.”
“There’s a police unit on its way,” she assures me after getting my address. “I’m going to ask you to stay on the line until they get there. Just to make sure you’re both alright.”
“Thank you.” I’m clutching the phone like it will save me.
“Can you hear anything now?”
I sit, as still as Jack would when he’s trying to extend his bedtime and not be noticed. “Nothing,” I reply. “There was someone in the garden though, and they could have got into the house. I heard a door bang when I first got on the phone to you. But, I daren’t look.”
“Can you get to the room where your son is sleeping? Make sure he’s OK? It’s probably best if you stay together until the police get there.”
I swing the lounge door open, look both ways along the hallway, and shoot towards the foot of the stairs. There doesn’t seem to be anyone here. Thank God I’ve got a landline after my phone was smashed. “I’m on my way upstairs,” I say to the operator. “How long will they be?” If there is anyone in the house, hopefully they can hear me on the phone to the police and will make a run for it.
“Just a couple more minutes,” she says. “They’re coming through the town centre. Stay on the phone. Are you with your son yet?”
“I’m outside his room.” I peer around the door, noticing his shape in the semi darkness, his arms around the bear he has started to need at bedtime again. “He’s fine. I’m going to stay out here, right outside his room. I don’t want to wake him whilst talking to you.”
I jump as there’s a noise from the dining room. “There’s someone in the house,” I whisper to the operator. The phone against my ear shakes in my grip. Who is it? What do they want? Mercifully, I can hear sirens in the distance. “I think they’re coming,” I say, heading to the top of the stairs, whilst willing Jack to stay asleep. This is the last thing I should put him through on top of everything else.
The utility room door bangs, and I hear the sound of footsteps dying away from the house. I rush to the side window where I can see the blue flash of an approaching police van. Then the back landing window, where only the dark shapes of conifer trees are visible. Whoever it is, or was, could have got over the back fence and away down the snicket. I don’t think they would have risked escaping via the front of the house, especially with the sirens.
I swing the front door open as four police officers jump from the van. The cat runs back in with them. Thank goodness she’s OK. Two comb the garden, whilst the other two, both women, do a check of the house to ensure whoever was there has gone. They introduce themselves as PC Richmond and PC Ellison. I follow them around.
“Who lives here with you?”
Something inside me plummets as I explain my husband has just died.
“They seem to have been scared off by our arrival,” PC Ellison says, looking around.
“There’s several people with an axe to grind with me.” I reel off my enemies and their possible ‘axes.’ But if someone wanted to attack me, they had plenty of chance before the police arrived, especially with both back doors being open.
“You must keep everything locked now.” PC Richmond shines a torch into the utility room. I can see the two male officers through the window, shining torches under bushes in the back garden.
“Whoever was here seems to be long gone,” she says. “But we will have a drive around and double check no one is hanging about.” She glances at Milly, sat, obliviously licking her paws. “Never mind this cat – perhaps you should get yourself a dog!”
I’m in no mood for jokey comments. “Can’t you take fingerprints to find out who was here?”
“Has any property been taken?”
I glance around the kitchen, then go through to the dining room. “Not that I can see.”
“I’ll put a request in for the forensics team, they’ll get in touch with you. Looking at the door handles though, it’s unlikely we’d be able to get prints from them. But we should at least try.”
“I can’t take any more.” I sink to a chair. “I don’t feel safe and I’ve got my son to think about.”
“Is there anywhere you could stay tonight?” PC Richmond looks at me, her voice soft and her eyes full of concern. “You shouldn’t be on your own.”
“My eight-year-old is asleep upstairs. I can’t go anywhere now.”
“What about someone staying here with you?
I shake my head, “my parents are away on holiday.”
“OK. We’ll have a patrol car come past every half hour. We’ll keep an eye on everything.”
“Thank you.”
I must look
