The Soul Thief by S L HOWE

Author:S L HOWE [HOWE, S L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008695804
Publisher: One More Chapter

Chapter Twenty-One

Mitchell had taken Laura home, hailing a cab, and picking the lock of her front door to help sneak her back inside. He had been too shy to attempt a kiss, even though the evening had taken them further than they had ever attempted to go before.

After she went inside, the blush still glowing on her cheeks, he had walked home to clear his head. It had been quite a turn of events, one that he didn’t care to repeat until after they were married, for Laura’s sake and the sense of respect he had for her. He was still confused and concerned about how she had come to be in his house, in his bed, but he couldn’t see this sudden change in their relationship as a bad thing. Though it was certainly true it raised concerns about her state of mind, if she were walking in her sleep.

Now, the most terrifying thought of all was her walking alone through the streets at night. Anything could have happened to her. It was fortunate that it hadn’t.

On his way home he passed the photography shop and paused, looking in the window at the pictures he could still make out in the gaslight. The happy couples, the family portraits, the small children playing with wooden toys, all looked so posed and formal. Mitchell wondered why anyone would even want to make such an effort to be immortalised on a piece of paper. It was common practice that some people even had pictures taken of their dead. Especially lost children. Mitchell had seen such grotesque pictures of parents with their dead infant, or widows posing with their late husbands. He didn’t think this was a sideline of Naylor’s, though. Not that he expected to see death photographs in the window. For the most part those were deeply personal, but he realised that he hadn’t seen any in the box of negatives he had been given earlier. There were still so many unanswered questions, and Artie’s sudden illness had prevented him from asking further questions about Warren’s death, which Artie had witnessed.

Mitchell walked on and rounded the corner at the bottom of the high street with the idea of cutting through the back alley behind to make his way home. But, as he turned down the dark lane he saw a small female boot protruding from behind the dustbins. He paused, scrutinised the boot, then moved closer. He could now see a foot and a leg, the hem of a dress, and an exposed thigh.

He pushed aside the bins and the light from the bottom of the alley spilled over the body.

‘Oh God,’ he said.

Bile rose into the back of his throat. The girl was a mess. Her face was so severely battered that her nose was smashed, her lips split to reveal shattered teeth. Her forehead was caved in like an overripe melon that had been dropped. One eye was wide open, staring up at the clear night sky; the other was so swollen, he couldn’t tell if it even remained in the socket.

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