скачать книгу бесплатно
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Author’s Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Suggested Topics for Reading Group Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Lisa Stone (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
He woke with a start. Eyes wide open and senses alert. Flat on his back.
Julie slept on beside him; blissfully unaware he was awake. She could sleep through anything, he thought – thunderstorms, the neighbour’s dog barking, cats fighting. Out for the count. Although there were none of those noises now. It was all quiet.
Perhaps it was one of the children having a dream that had woken him? Or the urban motorbike racer? It came out of nowhere, completed a full throttle lap of the area and then disappeared back into the night. It was a pastime that seemed to be growing in popularity, according to the local newspaper and the outrage of residents. Didn’t urban racers have to be up in the morning to go to work? Obviously not, Russ thought with a stab of irritation, but then how did they afford such powerful bikes? He glanced at the luminous digital display of the bedside clock radio. 2.10am. Damn. He was wide awake now.
He listened again for the noise that had woken him but the house remained quiet. Maybe it had been one of the children – Jack or Phoebe – having a dream and they’d now turned over and gone back to sleep? Or perhaps there’d been no external stimuli and he’d been jarred awake by his thoughts? Prodded to consciousness by a worry that hadn’t been settled the night before. But he couldn’t think of what. His mind was clear. Usually any unresolved issue or anxiety remained when he woke so his mind was already occupied with a half-formed rationale or incomplete sentence, but not now. There was nothing bothering him, apart from a vague reminder to return his mother’s phone call, which he would do as soon as he had the chance. She was overdue a visit and Julie had taken her last three calls. Yet while he felt a passing guilt for neglecting his mother, it wasn’t enough to have woken him.
He gazed towards the slightly parted curtains and the inky night sky beyond. No moon to wake him, no noise and he didn’t need a pee. It was unlike him to wake for absolutely no reason. He’d check on the children to put his mind to rest and then try to return to sleep. Busy day at work tomorrow. He needed to be fresh and alert.
Easing back the duvet so he didn’t disturb Julie, Russ noiselessly left the bed. Although their bedroom was in darkness, a small strip of light shone under their door from the night light on the landing. Plugged into the wall socket at floor level and mainly for the children’s benefit, it gave enough light if any of them needed to use the bathroom in the night without having to switch on the main landing light and risk waking the whole household. He’d check on Phoebe first; at four years old she was the most likely candidate, calling out in her sleep or not wanting to use the bathroom alone because of the monster she thought lived there.
Barefoot, Russ padded silently along the carpeted landing to her bedroom. He placed his hand on the door and was about to push it open when the ear-shattering shriek of the intruder alarm pierced the air. His heart lurched from the shock and his breath caught in his throat as the hairs stood up on his neck.
‘Russ? What is it?’ Julie cried, coming out of their bedroom.
At the same time Phoebe’s panicked cries came from inside her room.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’
‘Mum! Dad!’ Jack shouted over the screech of the alarm.
‘It’s OK, the alarm’s tripped out like it did before,’ he called back, quelling his own shock. ‘I’m going down now to switch if off. Mummy will stay with you.’
Russ began downstairs, the siren’s ear-piercing screech painfully deafening, as Julie went to pacify the children. He couldn’t have tripped the alarm himself; it was on the night-time setting – off upstairs but on downstairs and in the garage. Usually the last one to bed and first up in the morning, it was his job to change the setting and he did it automatically. Doubtless a fly or other small insect had passed by a sensor and set it off. It had happened before; a tiny spider running across the sensor or a lone fly shut in a room tripping the alarm in its frantic search for an exit. A small insect instilling panic in a house of humans!
Descending the last two stairs, he crossed to the alarm control box on the wall in the hall. The green LED bell symbol was flashing frantically, telling him the alarm had been activated. As if he didn’t know! He quickly entered the five-digit code – Julie’s birthday. Then silence – wonderful, peaceful quiet – although his eardrums were still buzzing and would do so for a while. He’d leave the alarm off and then check the sensors were clean tomorrow when he returned home from work. Otherwise, he was likely to spend the rest of the night in fitful sleep, bracing himself for the alarm accidentally going off again.
The hall was darker now with the alarm’s warning light no longer flashing. He began towards the foot of the stairs; he could hear Julie’s voice upstairs soothing Phoebe back to sleep. He took one step onto the staircase, and then a sharp thump on the back of his head. A cry escaped his lips, and he had a vague sensation of falling before he hit the ground. Then nothing. No sight or sound, no more thoughts; just an all-consuming darkness.
Chapter Two (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
‘I came down and found him,’ Julie said, tears springing to her eyes again. ‘The police said there were two of them working the area. There’ve been a number of similar break-ins …’ She was on the phone to her mother-in-law, having to go through it all again, but of course she’d want to know the details; Russ was her son. ‘Yes, they levered the window in the study and were in the living room taking whatever they could find when the alarm went off, and Russ disturbed them. Pity he went down. We should have left them to take what they wanted … Yes, he’s home now, in bed resting … Yes, four stitches … I’m just going to make him a cup of tea. I will. Goodbye.’
She returned the handset to its cradle, wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and went into the kitchen to make Russ the tea. His mother had been right when she’d said it could have been worse. So much worse. Those evil men might have gone upstairs and into their bedrooms. She trembled at the possibility. Thieves knew that most women kept their jewellery in jewellery boxes in their bedroom, the police officer had said. So in that respect she supposed they’d been lucky, spared the horror of having to live with the knowledge that those monsters had been in their rooms while they slept. And in Jack’s and Phoebe’s rooms! What if the children had woken and seen them? Would they too have been witnesses that needed silencing? She recoiled at the prospect. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Neither did the possibility that they could have killed Russ when they’d hit him with the metal crowbar they’d used for levering open the study window. A life without Russ was unthinkable, as were all the other more horrendous scenarios. Although she wasn’t sure these platitudes helped. She felt physically sick, weak, and couldn’t stop crying. It had truly been a living nightmare.
Filling the kettle, she switched it on and then leant against the work surface as she waited for it to boil. It was only 6.30pm but in November the evening was already dark. The curtains and blinds were closed, all the lights were on, and the study window had been repaired but it still didn’t feel safe.
DC Beth Mayes’ words rang in her head: that they needed to review their security. ‘When it comes to break-ins, lightning often does strikes twice in the same place, sometimes more,’ she’d said.
One house she’d been called to had been burgled three times in as many months, with the burglars waiting just long enough between their ‘visits’ for the goods to be replaced. A professional couple who’d lost their laptops, iPads and phones three times. New-for-old insurance meant the replacements had a higher street value than the originals so why wouldn’t the thieves go back?
Detached houses in leafy suburbs were easy and rich pickings, she’d said. They needed to upgrade their security and possibly consider CCTV, which could be installed for less than the price of the average family holiday. Russ was researching it now upstairs on his old laptop, which they thankfully hadn’t taken.
The kettle boiled and clicked off. Heaving herself away from the support of the worktop, Julie took a mug from the cupboard. It was too quiet in the house without Phoebe and Jack. They were staying with her parents for tonight at least, possibly for a few days. Her parents had collected them from the hospital in the early hours, which had allowed Julie to concentrate on Russ, and meant that the police could look over the house uninterrupted – fingerprinting; taking their statements; collecting evidence. From the muddy footprints on the patio it appeared it had been two men who’d come over the fence from next door. No sign of the crowbar they’d used that would have Russ’s blood on it, no sign of a getaway vehicle on their neighbour’s CCTV, and none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything. Not surprising really at 2am.
Glancing anxiously over her shoulder – every little noise spooked her – Julie took a tea bag from the caddy and tried to concentrate on making the tea. How long before the house felt safe again? She doubted it ever would. It wasn’t so much the physical damage – the window had been repaired – but the psychological and emotional damage, as the police officer had said. Beth Mayes had given them a business card and said someone from victim support would be in touch. Wiping her eyes again, she added a splash of milk to the tea and began upstairs to their bedroom.
Russ was sitting propped up in bed with the laptop open in front of him, looking positive. Apart from the small shaved patch on the top of his head with its four blood-encrusted stitches you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. When the nurse had finished cleaning and stitching the wound, the doctor had said Russ could go home but to rest and take paracetamol as and when needed, and return to the hospital if he experienced a severe headache, blurred vision or dizziness. Russ was made of strong stuff and had only come to bed because Julie had insisted.
‘How’s the head?’ she asked, setting the mug on his bedside cabinet.
‘Not so bad. Could have been worse.’
‘That’s what your mother said – could have been worse.’ She kissed his cheek and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her gaze away from the wound, which made her flinch.
‘And you still don’t remember what happened?’ she asked as he took a sip of the tea.
‘No. Not after getting out of bed. I came to in the ambulance.’
‘Lucky you,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget it.’ Tears filled her eyes again as the images flashed before her. His cry, the front door banging shut as the intruders fled. Her running downstairs and finding him unconscious and bleeding from the head. Frantically calling for an ambulance as the children stood at the top of the stairs screaming and crying. Then the wait, seemingly endless although it was only ten minutes, as she held his hand and prayed he’d make it.
‘Perhaps we should move?’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine ever feeling safe here again.’
‘Of course you will,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ll make sure of it. We’ve only just finished doing up this place. It’s our dream home. They’re not going to drive us out. Look, Jules, I’ve learnt a lot online about thieves, how they work and how to stop them. Come and sit beside me and I’ll show you. I’ll make sure we’re all safe, I promise you, love.’
She went round to her side of the bed and propped herself beside him, resting her head lightly against his shoulder, his familiar warm smell now slightly tinged with antiseptic from the hospital. He took a couple of sips of his tea and set the mug on his beside cabinet.
‘It used to be the case that burglars usually only entered unoccupied property,’ he began, ‘but apparently the profile of the offender has changed according to this. It’s often not the old-style burglar making a living from breaking and entering, but drug users desperate and willing to risk everything for their next fix. Intruder alarms are no longer considered adequate, even if they’re linked to a police alert. Most thieves know that they have time to break in, grab portable valuables and easily disposed-of items, and be long gone before the patrol car arrives. And it’s men and women, although female drug addicts are more likely to resort to prostitution for drug money.’
Typical of Russ to research in so much detail, Julie thought. If he embarked on a project – whether it was at home or work – he did so thoroughly, researching and reviewing all aspects before he made a decision. As he continued profiling the would-be intruder and then showed her web pages with various security options for protecting their home, she began to feel some of the tautness in her body ease and she started to relax.
‘I’ve emailed three security firms to come and give us quotes,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the job done properly by a specialist firm with lots of experience. This firm is my favourite so far.’ He opened the company’s web page. ‘It’s a family-run business, established twenty years ago. Plenty of five-star reviews. Don’t worry, I’ll be here when they visit, and I’ve cancelled my meeting in Germany next week. I won’t do another overnight until we’ve got our security system upgraded and CCTV installed.’ Closing the laptop, he set it on the floor beside the bed and drew her to him. ‘It’ll be fine, Jules. I promise you. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?’
‘No,’ she agreed and snuggled closer, pressing her cheek against his strong protective chest.
‘It was a dreadful experience,’ he said softly into her hair. ‘Especially for you and the children. But the memory will fade in time. It’ll certainly make a good after-dinner story.’ He nuzzled her ear, kissing the lobe. ‘I know a very good way to take our minds off it. With the children at your parents and us already in bed, it’s an opportunity too good to miss.’
And as Russ’s hand found its way into her bra and the first flush of desire made her nipples stand firm and erect, the horror of the previous night began to fade. ‘Just be careful you don’t bang your head on the headboard,’ she whispered with a smile.
‘There’s a solution for that,’ he returned; ‘you on top. Now, no more bad thoughts.’
‘No, big boy.’
Chapter Three (#ulink_aac386fd-1aaa-5fed-be75-912e4dae009b)
Derek Flint sat in his smart blue van bearing the logo of his company and, with mounting anticipation, surveyed the house and street. He’d already checked out the area on Google satellite map and street view as he did all the properties he was asked to visit – no doubt the thieves probably had too. The amount of information available on the Internet was astounding, and frightening if it got in the wrong hands. But it made his job that much easier, and very likely that of the thieves as well.
His expert eye noted that one of their neighbours had the full works from a rival security firm. A stylish alarm box on the front of their house, correctly placed CCTV cameras and two motion-activated floodlights. Their other neighbour had nothing beyond a ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign on the side gate, which could only be effective if it was a Rottweiler or similar dog, trained to attack, and not a house pet. When he’d driven down the road he’d also picked out dummy alarm boxes with fake CCTV cameras. He’d made a mental note of their addresses. Who on earth did they think they were fooling?
Derek checked his face in the van’s interior mirror and smoothed his hair. It was important he looked smart and presentable in his line of business, but not suited up like an estate agent or used-car salesman. You needed to instil confidence in prospective clients; these people had had a dreadful shock and felt vulnerable. Calling his business a family firm helped, and so did what he wore: navy trousers and a light-blue cotton shirt under a navy sweater bearing the company’s logo. Navy was the colour the police and security wore and engendered feelings of safety and dependability.
Picking up his clipboard and an information pack for the clients from the passenger seat, he opened the van door and got out. It was exactly 9.30am. He was a stickler for being on time. It was important not to inconvenience prospective clients by arriving very early; and certainly not late – that was disrespectful. He couldn’t tolerate disrespect, lateness, slovenly or sloppy behaviour. It infuriated him. He upheld punctuality, accuracy, diligence, respect and accountability, much of which he felt was now lacking in today’s society.
Opening the low front gate, he took in the two-year-old modest family car on the driveway – a middle-income family, he decided. He relatched the gate behind him and walked up the path, noticing the shrubbery that partially concealed the sideway. It was a well-maintained house, only recently modernized, so they obviously had some money. He pressed the doorbell and waited. Doubtless they’d seen his van, as would most of their neighbours. A break-in, especially one with violence, was very good for his business.
He knew that the owners, Julie and Russ Williams, were a married couple in their late thirties with two young children, most of which he’d discovered from the Internet, together with photographs of their last family holiday, and the children’s birthday parties held in the back garden. So he had a picture of the rear of the house – just like the thieves. If people only knew how accessible their information was they’d be more careful sharing it. Smoothing his hair again, Derek cleared his throat as the front door opened.
‘Good morning. Derek Flint from Home Security,’ he said, handing the man his business card.
‘Good morning. Russ Williams.’ A firm handshake. ‘Come in. This is my wife Julie.’ Derek made a point of wiping his feet on the mat – it was only polite – then stepped in and shook Mrs Williams’ hand.
‘A pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to learn of your break-in.’ His brow furrowed with concern. ‘I wish I could have seen you both sooner but I was fully booked all last week.’
‘Not a problem, you’re here now,’ Russ said. Julie threw him a weak smile.
‘Please don’t worry. We’ll soon have this place secure,’ he reassured her.
‘You understand we’re having other quotes,’ Russ said.
‘Yes, of course.’ He gave a small self-deprecating nod.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ Julie asked.
‘Perhaps at the end? If you don’t mind I’d like to crack on. I’ve a very busy day ahead.’ It was important they knew how in demand he was.
‘I’ll show you around and explain what we’ve got in mind,’ Russ said. ‘I’ve been researching what we need online.’
Everyone was an expert now with the Internet, Derek thought but didn’t say. ‘Excellent. It’s always so much easier if the homeowner is well informed. This is for you.’ He put the information pack firmly into Russ’s hand. Clients were always impressed with glossy brochures. ‘I’ll talk you through it later after I’ve had a look around, if that’s all right with you?’
‘Absolutely. So this is the living room,’ Russ said, leading the way from the hall.
Derek stepped aside to allow Mrs Williams to go first and then followed with his clipboard and pen poised.
