Page 77 of 36 Hours

She pulled her thoughts away from him as the lane they were travelling turned into a dirt track with a high line of grass running along the centre.

Kim held on to the roof handle and braced herself for the potholes illuminated by Bryant’s high beam.

The hedges on both sides of the road were overgrown and brushing the car.

By the time they reached the property, Kim was aware that there had been no turn-off. This was the only property on the lane, and their sicko would have met no one as he came and went.

The high beam rested on the property, which looked tired and worn. The once-white paint was almost a dirty grey and peeling in several places. A wooden arch above the door was in a state of disrepair, and plant pots that had once been full of flowers held only weeds and moss.

They got out of the car and used their torches to continue looking.

‘Not sure what Phil and Kirstie would have to say about the kerb appeal of this one,’ Bryant quipped.

Looking around, she had to agree. Piles of bin bags were stacked against the wall. The small lawn was overgrown, and weeds had invaded every foot of ground she could see. The council bins had been stuffed with so much rubbish their lids were open.

The people selling the property had obviously decided that no amount of tidying up was going to get them a better price, so they’d done nothing to it since the demise of the occupant, meaning that this neglected property got barely any visitors at all.

‘Even in the dark, I know what you’re thinking. It’s still a bloody long shot, but I’ll go round back anyway.’

He was right, she admitted, before trying the front door. It was locked, and a fraction of her hope that they were in the right place diminished.

She headed over to a long outbuilding that might once have been a stable, but the doors had all been replaced with heavy, full-length wooden doors with latch openings. Converted for storage, Kim thought, opening the first of five doors.

This one was full of old machinery, rusted and broken lawnmowers and strimmers.

She opened the second, which was full of old bags of grain and seed that must have been for chickens.

The third was stacked high with old furniture the previous owners must have replaced over the years but never disposed of. She heard the unmistakeable sound of scurrying, prompting her to close the door quickly just as Bryant reappeared from around the back of the house.

‘Bloody death trap back there. I’ve seen tidier scrapyards,’ he moaned. ‘No doors or windows open that I can see.’

‘Okay, stop whingeing and open door number five.’

They opened the last two doors at the same time.

She didn’t even have time to assess what was behind her own door before Bryant spoke.

‘Err…guv.’

Those words alone were enough to chill her blood.

She moved to stand beside him and followed his torchlight into the space.

She took out her phone. It was time to make herself popular again.

SIXTY

5A.M.

‘Thanks for coming, Mitch,’ she said as the techie got out of his van.

‘I didn’t disturb anyone. I was in the spare room anyway.’

‘Why’s that?’ she asked innocently.

He offered her a glare before switching to work mode. ‘So, what am I looking at?’

‘We were hoping you could tell us that,’ Kim said.