Jigsaw Girl: A British Crime Thriller (DCI Alex Rogan Crime Thrillers Book 1) by Rachel Morton & Mason Sabre

Author:Rachel Morton & Mason Sabre [Morton, Rachel & Sabre, Mason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Wolf Books
Published: 2023-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Thirty

Sammy sat on the sunken sofa, trying not to roll back, or move to where the springs dug into her thighs. She focused on the stains on the floor in front of her, where something had clearly been dragged backwards and its legs had gouged into the wood. A chair probably, a table, possibly.

It could have been the coffee table sitting a few feet from her, with its tatty top, and chipped paintwork. The varnish was past its due date, and several rings from hot cups marked the surface.

She breathed in, a long, take-it-all-the-way-down to the bottom of her lungs kind of breath, and then wished she hadn’t. The air was damp and musty with the hint of mildew. She was in a room, but it had to be some kind of long-abandoned place. In a way, the smell reminded her of living with Hazel, except there was no lingering stench of sweat and old booze.

Sitting with her hands pressed tightly between her thighs to try and retain some heat, she bunched her shoulders up around her ears, but that just made her back ache even more, and the pins and needles that kept coming into her legs, scattered about inside her muscles. Her breaths came out in small puffs of white air. The room was cold. So cold that the tip of her nose tingled.

There wasn’t even a way to gauge how long she’d been there. No clock, no watch, no phone. It felt like forever. Her legs were numb and then she had to move, but she wasn’t allowed to stand, wasn’t allowed to get up and walk around. The aching in her back at the curve spread around her body.

A man standing at the door, his hands together in front of him, just stared at her. If he’d got an aching back or numb legs, he never showed it. Like one of the soldiers that stood outside the royal palace.

He’d been staring at her for most of her time here, and for the first hour it made her feel awkward. Made her want to turn away so she couldn’t see him let alone see him staring. When she did meet his gaze, and she did that once, there was an awful glint in them, and the touch of a smile. But that smile held more malice than cheer. It made her uneasy. It made her look away.

And maybe that was the plan—to intimidate her. To make her afraid.

She’d not let them.

That was how these men worked. They thrived on fear.

It was the same reason they’d left the bunched-up rug in front of her where she could stare at it—stare at the bloodstains and the other marks. It was why they’d left her in a room where the bed held ropes on the poles and why there was a baseball bat beside it.

But it was the rug she focused on the most. It’d maybe been white once, or cream. Or maybe that colour Maddie liked so damn much—eggshell blue.

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