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.

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