Chapter 28
LENA
There’s definitely someone upstairs. My heart lurches. Could it be … could it be Sarah-Jane? I have to check. I can’t leave here if someone is being held against their will.
The stairs creak under my feet as I reach the top floor.
There’s a funny smell up here. Musty, unused.
Dust motes sparkle in the slant of moonlight coming through the Velux above and I cough.
For a newly refurbished house, this area feels unfinished.
There is a single door on this floor. This must be the attic conversion.
I approach slowly, my heart rate spiking as I reach for the door handle.
This is it. Finally. The moment of truth.
The door doesn’t budge. Of course it would be locked. It looks quite flimsy: maybe I could kick it in. I slam my shoulder against it and it bursts open.
I lurch into the room and gasp.
It’s small and badly lit, but I can make out a single iron-framed bed under a sloped ceiling and freshly plastered walls.
Apart from that, the attic is empty. Completely and utterly empty.
It hasn’t been converted into a bedroom, like I’d been expecting.
I move further into the room, not quite able to believe what I’m seeing, as though I’ve stumbled through a door into an alternate universe.
Cobwebs hang in the corners and a spider scuttles past, disappearing into a crack in the floorboards.
It smells of damp plaster and rotting wood.
There’s nobody here. No kidnapped woman. No Sarah-Jane Mayhew. No signs of life at all.
I move towards the bed, noting the stained, stripy mattress and the layer of dust on the top of the iron frame.
But I heard a crash and a thump. Where had it come from?
I can’t hang around to find out. I need to go. Now.
With one last glance around the room, I leave, closing the door behind me.
I note again how bare the walls are as I descend the stairs: no photos or personal effects, but they haven’t long moved in.
I can’t stop thinking about the empty attic.
As I move across the landing I notice the door to the master bedroom is open and, as I pass, I take in a double bed adorned with satin pillows in complementary shades of coffee and caramel, and a walnut dressing-table.
As I make my way down the three steps onto the half-landing I pause outside Henry’s study.
The door is closed. Is that where the noise was coming from?
I slowly turn the handle, my heart in my mouth, and the door creaks open.
I’m just about to step into the room when I’m knocked back by a sudden force.
Something hard pushes against my chest and I fall flat against the wall, my heart racing.
A streak of caramel and white flees past me and down the stairs.
I put a trembling hand to my breastbone.
It’s just a cat. It must have been shut into Henry’s study by mistake.
I can see it’s knocked over a lamp. I swear under my breath, my legs wobbly.
I’m making my way down the remaining stairs when another sound makes me freeze.
A key in the lock.