Hollow Pike (24 page)

A pair of hands covered her eyes. ‘Guess who?’

‘Banquo?’

Danny sat down next to her, obviously baffled. ‘What?’

‘Never mind,’ she told him, thrilled to see him. ‘
You
never text. I was waiting up all last night!’

‘Sorry. Match against Blackheath Grammar. We lost.’

Lis giggled, did he think she was one of
those
girls? ‘I’m kidding! Sorry about the match.’

‘Nah, it’s OK. And I did mean to text, honestly. I wanna know when you’re free.’

Across the room, Daphne raised a finger to her lips before wagging it at them.

‘Whenever,’ Lis admitted. She was so over playing games. ‘The last thing I need is me-time right now.’

His heavy brows dipped. ‘What’s up?’

Lis shrugged, not knowing how to put it into words. ‘Uh, where to start? You heard about the dead bird in my locker? All a bit scary.’

‘Yeah. I’m sorry. It was probably Connor O’Grady; he’s proper mental. Why don’t we do something tonight to take your mind off it? I’ll keep an eye on
you!’ he said with a grin.

She pouted. ‘I can’t. I’m babysitting my nephew.’

Danny wrinkled his nose for a second. ‘OK, what if I came over to help? Would your sister mind? We could watch a DVD or something.’

In Bangor, DVD had been code for only one thing. ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Not like that!’ So DVD meant the same thing here, then. ‘I’ll behave. I could download
Hacksaw 2
for us,’ Danny suggested. ‘Highly illegal, but
you’re worth it!’

Lis smiled – Danny was once again taking the edge off her problems. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she told him. ‘But I’m not promising to behave . . .’

What to wear for a DVD/babysitting date? Everything she’d tested looked try-hard. In the end, Lis stole Max’s ancient
Guns N’ Roses
tour T-shirt and
stuck it over some leggings: slouchy, cool and a little bit rock. She’d put Logan to bed already and now waited in her room, calming music playing in the background. Danny would be here in
about an hour.
Deep breaths, Lis, deep breaths
.

Standing in front of the mirror, she messed her hair up, eager to look like she hadn’t spent an hour getting ready. Downstairs, she heard a clatter of paws and raucous barking as Sasha
tripped over her own legs to get to the door. Oh, God. He was early.

Lis crossed the hall and skipped down the stairs, swinging off the banister and into the kitchen. And then she frowned; Sasha was bouncing up and down at the
back
door. The porch had one
door leading to the drive and another that connected to the back terrace. But there was no access to the back garden from the street. Then she realised she hadn’t heard the doorbell, just
Sasha. Odd.

‘What’s up, you crazy dog? You wanna go out?’ She opened the door, putting it on the latch. A blast of cold November air flooded the house.

Sasha pelted onto the patio, barking like a thing demented. She shot up the stairs that led onto the back terrace, the one outside Lis’s bedroom. Lis stepped onto the dark patio, the
paving slabs icy through her socks.

‘Sasha, do not run off,’ she called. ‘Do your business and get back inside!’

The rotating clothes line screeched as it turned in the breeze, a few old towels hanging on the line. Lis rubbed her arms against the bitter cold while Sasha continued to bark at the top of the
garden stairs. With a glance back at the house to make sure she hadn’t locked herself out, Lis jogged up the steps. The family dog was barking at shadows, a perfect little sentry. Thinking
back to the shadows outside her bedroom all those weeks ago, Lis scanned the garden carefully. The only movement was Logan’s plastic windmill twirling in the breeze.

‘What has gotten into you?’ Lis grabbed Sasha’s collar. ‘Come back in!’

Dragging the reluctant, shaggy creature behind her, Lis descended the stairs and pulled the dog back into the house. ‘Stupid animal,’ she said, ruffling her fur. She slammed the door
shut and dropped the latch. As an afterthought she twisted the key to the mortice lock, just to be on the safe side, then pulled the keys out of both front and back doors and drifted back into the
kitchen, tossing them into the fruit bowl where keys lived.

Checking the kitchen clock, she saw she had fifty minutes until Danny was due to arrive. What was she meant to do with herself until then? Pace?
Glee
, that was the answer. Episodes of
Glee
always chilled her out. Wiping her clammy hands on her T-shirt she entered the lounge and turned the TV on.

But Sasha’s weird behaviour continued. She was now darting between the windows of the house, trying to look out into the night.

Lis wasn’t about to let a hyper dog ruin her evening with Danny. ‘That’s enough,’ she said affectionately. ‘In your basket.’

She led the dog through to the conservatory, just off the lounge, where her basket was kept. ‘Go to sleep, you nutcase.’ Leaving Sasha, she re-entered the lounge. ‘Right, what
was I doing? Oh, DVD.’

She scurried up the stairs and burst into her room, locating the
Glee
box set on her bookshelf. She pulled it out and turned to leave. Only then did she notice that something was wrong.
Even in the dim light of her bedroom lamp, she could see subtle changes. Her wardrobe door was ajar. The drawers in the chest by the door were pulled open – just an inch or so, but she always
pushed them shut or they looked untidy. Even in a rush, she
always
pushed them shut.
Someone had been in her room
.

Her stomach turned over. Was there any way she could have done it? No. Had Sarah been in her room? No. Her hand flew to her mouth. The back door. She’d left it wide open while she fetched
the dog. Oh, God.

She punched the off switch on the iPod dock. The house was silent, save for the noisy TV downstairs. Her eyes fell on the centimetre gap in her wardrobe door. No one could fit in there with all
her clothes, could they? She looked around her room, grabbing a wrought iron candlestick from her desk.

She felt lightheaded and realised she’d stopped breathing. Eyes watering, she took a step towards the wardrobe. Her finger traced the line of the open door. Like ripping off a plaster, Lis
flung the door open and stepped back, raising the candlestick, ready to strike. Nothing. Just a rail of coats and dresses. She pulled the clothes aside, but she already knew nobody could fit in
there.

She heard a creak downstairs. A foot weighing heavy on a floorboard.
They were in the house
. Where was her phone? She had to call the police. Her mobile was nowhere to be seen. What had
she done with it? She had to get out of the house! That’s what she always screamed at those girls in horror films –
get out of the house
! She considered the French windows onto
the terrace. No, that way only led into the copse.

She inched onto the landing. The coast was clear. The doors to the study and Logan’s room were dark. Oh, Lord, Logan! Forgetting her own safety, she dashed into his nursery. Inside, a
dainty night-light twirled, casting fairy tale silhouettes over the ceiling. In his cot, her nephew was fast asleep. Lis closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. He was safe and sound.

There was a crash. It sounded further away, like a door banging. A glimmer of courage ignited in her gut. She had to know who had been in the house, get a look at them. Instinct told her this
was the watcher – the one from outside her home. Maybe the one from behind the trees. She closed the door to Logan’s room and tiptoed towards the stairs, still gripping the candle
holder. Looking into the lounge she saw it just as she’d left it: TV blaring. Sasha in the conservatory. There was no motion and no shadows to hide in. From the lounge there was access to the
balcony, but that was always locked, except on the hottest summer days. That left only the kitchen as an escape route.

She slipped down the stairs and through the saloon doors into the kitchen. It was lit up like Christmas, white light gleaming off the stainless steel surfaces. Crouching down, she looked under
the kitchen table: nothing. What’s more, both the front and back doors were deadlocked, the keys jumbled up in the messy fruit bowl where she’d thrown them. There was only one remaining
option.

Behind her, the internal door leading down to Sarah’s workshop stood ajar. A black two-inch gap leered at her. She rested the candlestick on the counter and pulled a kitchen knife from the
block, the cool blade flashing in the light.

The cellar door groaned as she pulled it fully open. The stairs descended into a still, dark underworld. Lis pressed the light switch and far below strip lights flickered into action, filling
the room with a jittery blueish glow. Knife in front of her, she crept down the first two steps. From this angle she still couldn’t see into the basement. Anything could await her. This was
Hollow Pike, after all.

Squatting down, she took the last steps like a tiger, ready to pounce. The smell of sawdust and varnish was overpowering; normally she loved the aroma, but not tonight. In the murky light, Lis
made out four vintage wardrobes, all ready for Sarah to restore, all with their doors ajar. She backed away from them, leaning on the wall. This was a nightmare. Four empty boxes standing like
coffins. An urge to laugh, or cry, or both shook her body.

This was a mistake. She should turn, run up those stairs and straight out the door. Her mind was screaming at her to get out, yet her feet carried her towards the first wardrobe. With the
carving knife outstretched, she reached towards the edge of the door . . .

There was a loud clatter to her right. Lis yelped, slicing through the air with the blade. She ducked behind the wardrobe. Another crash. Peeking out, Lis saw the workshop window wide open, the
wind swinging it to and fro so that it slammed against the frame. That’s how he’d got out, then. Lis tore over to the window and peered outside. She saw only Max’s van on the
tarmac, but somewhere in the distance, she heard footsteps sprinting across gravel.

An hour later, Lis clutched a cup of tea to her chest. She, Delilah and Jack sat in the lounge, each coiled like a too-tight spring.

‘So what on earth did you tell Danny?’ Delilah asked.

Lis shrugged. ‘I said I had a migraine and needed to sleep. He sounded gutted, like I was ditching him.’

‘You did the right thing. He’ll understand,’ Dee told her.

‘You must have been terrified,’ Jack said. ‘I’d have been straight out the door, screaming “murderer, murderer!” at the top of my voice!’

‘I had to know who it was. I couldn’t stop myself,’ Lis replied, seeing her actions now for what they had been – insane. The odd thing was, it hadn’t been Danny
she’d wanted afterwards. She’d needed her friends, the ones who’d been there
that
night.

‘I wonder what they were looking for,’ Delilah said, playing absent-mindedly with her hair.

‘I have no idea.’ Lis sipped her tea. ‘I don’t think anything’s missing.’

Kitty smashed through the back door, swinging a torch in one hand and holding Sasha’s lead in the other. ‘Nothing. There’s no one around, Lis. Whoever it was, they’re
long gone. I’m sorry.’

‘Not your fault.’

‘We’ll stay the night though. Make sure you’re safe,’ Kitty promised.

Lis mulled over her words. ‘The only way I’m going to feel safe is if we catch whoever this is.’

Delilah joined her girlfriend on the sofa. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The police aren’t getting anywhere fast and tonight someone was
in my room
! Anything could have happened! We were there that night. We’re the only ones who know what
happened.’

‘But we didn’t see anything,’ Kitty pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone.

Lis stood in the centre of the rug, making an impassioned speech to her friends, like a politician starting a rousing election campaign. ‘There was someone in the copse and they
saw
us
. Think about it. If
you’d
killed Laura and seen a load of kids filming you in the woods, what would your first instinct be?’

‘To find them and kill them,’ Jack said flatly. All colour had seeped from his face.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Lis said grimly. ‘But why isn’t any of this shit happening to you?’