Beyond the Rage by Michael J. Malone

Author:Michael J. Malone [Malone, Michael J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction, Scottish, glasgow, Thriller, Crime
Publisher: Saraband
Published: 2015-02-08T11:00:00+00:00

28

He knew where his aunt and uncle kept a spare key to their front door. His Uncle Colin was a sucker for those wee shopping magazines that fell out of every Sunday newspaper. The ones that most people threw in the trash. He was always buying stuff from them and one particular item was a false rock with a secret compartment large enough for a key that would sit on the back step.

Kenny bent down to pick the rock up and when he straightened up his head spun. He breathed deep, blinked hard. Fuck. Still with the concussion. He should really be tucked up in bed but he couldn’t allow himself any rest. He had no idea how long Colin would remain at the hospital.

Nor had he any idea what he was looking for, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his uncle knew more than he was letting on.

Once inside he paused in the hallway. The house really hadn’t changed much since that day his aunt brought him back from the children’s home. He looked to the left and the door into the living room. He could remember his uncle standing there that day as if barring him from entering the room. A look on his face that could sour wine. Oh, he’d put on an act for his wife, but Kenny was a good reader of people and he knew from the first false ‘Welcome home, kiddo’ that his uncle would rather he find a bus to run under.

The colours used in the decor hadn’t changed much either. Magnolia paint over woodchip. The cheap bastard. Here and there his aunt had dressed it up with a female touch, but was clearly hampered by her husband’s control over the family purse.

He quickly reviewed what he knew of the house. If his uncle was going to hide something of value only to him, where would he put it? The rooms everyone used could be discounted. The only places he and Ian hadn’t been allowed to roam as boys were the master bedroom, the loft and the garden shed.

The master bedroom could also be ruled out. The old fucker wasn’t daft enough to hide stuff where his wife might find it. Which left the loft and the shed as likely possibilities. He walked to the kitchen and looked in the drawers near the back door, found the back door key and a longer key that could only be for something like a shed.

Walking down the neat path, past the carefully planted borders he was aware of someone’s eyes on him. He turned and looked into the windows of the neighbours. Shit. He’d been spotted. It was old Kate Ford next door, one hand pulling back the net curtain with the other offering a wave. She paused in her wave and made a sign for him to wait.

Seconds later she was out of the door and hobbling on arthritic legs to a position just over the waist-high fence from him. She didn’t

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