Girl On a Train by H.A Dawson

Author:H.A Dawson [Dawson H A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: H.A Dawson
Published: 2015-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The car eased to a standstill outside Ron's house and the purring sound of the engine died away. Luke turned his head looking at the impressive stone building, presumably owned at one time by someone with status, a doctor or landowner perhaps. There were tall trees at the rear and there was a commercial building far at the left, but there was nothing in the immediate vicinity. The house, by enlarge, was isolated.

'Don't you think it looks like a haunted house,' Imogen said.

He frowned. 'Not really.'

'It so does. If these street lights weren't here, it would be spooky.' She looked up to the small rectangular window near the roof. 'I can see it now . . . a silhouetted figure in the window with a knife.'

'You've been watching too many horror films.'

‘It’s true! There are no neighbours to hear the screams.'

'It's not that far from civilisation! Haven't you seen the houses just across the road?'

'Even so, the pavement and road are wide . . . and the back is private.'

He followed her gaze along the side of the house. 'Megan seems to think there is a path at the rear, one that Saskia took as she tried to outrun her attacker. It leads to a statue in the centre. We should follow it. Hopefully, when we regress her, we'll find out what happened.'

Her eyes sparkled with energy and enthusiasm. 'This is so cool.'

Her mood was catching and a smile crept to his mouth.

'Before we go in let’s run through what we already know,' he said.

She faced him. 'Ron remained married to Saskia. From what I could find out, he has never lived with another woman or had a long-term relationship with anyone. He works as a manager at a printing company, helps out at the community centre, and has not committed any crimes, expect for a few car related ones.'

'What family did you say he had?'

'A cousin in Wales. Both of his parents are dead.'

He released his seatbelt. 'Okay, let's go.'

'We're a bit early.'

'I'm sure it'll be fine.'

The street was quiet: there were no moving cars, no pedestrians, and no one in the nearby gardens. He eased the car door shut and stepped around the car to the pavement. The warm breeze caressed his skin, and the brightness dappled by the rustling leaves relieved the strain in his eyes. He lowered his head, opened the creaky wrought-iron gate, and followed the narrow concrete path to the porch.

He could see that Ron was not in the lounge. It was spacious with a high ceiling, and there was a high-backed three-piece suite against one wall and a large display cabinet with drawers and cupboards on another. The walls had mahogany patterned wallpaper - he considered it old-fashioned - and there was a picture rail near the ceiling.

He walked to the stone porch, stubbing his toe on a large ceramic pot, and rang the bell. They waited. Ron did not appear.

'Did you hear it ring?' he asked.

She shook her head and knocked on the door.

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