Wolf: Freezing Hill Lane by David H Sharp

Author:David H Sharp [Sharp, David H]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-06-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

DC Max Sterling pulled up alongside the house. He checked the number. It was too dark for him to see, so he shone his torch out of the driver’s window. 119 Freezing hill Lane. The house of Delphine London, Max knew he had the right place.

He checked his wristwatch. It was late, very late. He had a pass to be out after the curfew but it ran out in fifty minutes.

Should he bother?

He tapped the steering wheel. Fuck it. He was here now.

Even though it was on the way home he driven a few minutes out of his way. Wolf had wanted someone to look in on her, to ask some questions. It might as well be him.

Max slowly opened the front gate. It squeaked.

He looked up. Did he see the curtain twitch?

He walked forward to the front door. Before he knocked the single pane window he peered inside. He could see a faint light coming from the landing. Was it a night light, a reading lamp?

Max knocked the door lightly.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again, this time harder. Max looked over his shoulder. It was extremely late. He didn’t want to upset the neighbours.

Still no one came.

He pressed his ear up to the glass. Was that music he could hear?

It sounded like Bessie Smith. Max was brought up listening to old blues singers as he spent a large chunk of his childhood with his paternal grandmother.

He wasn’t sure though. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

Then the light flickered. Max blinked and refocused. The light was still there, just about. Or was it?

He was tired, he couldn’t trust his senses. Now he couldn’t hear any music at all, or see a light.

Max walked around the side of the house. He passed the open wooden side gate and then found himself in the back garden looking at an old corrugated ‘lean-to’.

He looked up at the back windows. All the curtains were closed. There was no sign of any light trying to seep through the gaps.

He walked along the back path which snaked past a small pond. There, in all its glory, was a back door. Max had to look twice at it. He clicked on his torch just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The door was painted red, blood red with a yellow spot in the centre of it.

Hanging down from the door was an old rope.

On the end of the rope was a large rusty steel ring. Hanging from the ring was about nine short pieces of twine.

At the end of each length of twine was a dead cat.

Each in a different state of decomposition.

Max held his hand over his open mouth and nose. The smell was unbearable.

One cat, a ginger moggy looked as though it had only been killed in the last twenty four hours.

Another, a tabby cat, was falling to pieces in front of Max’s eyes.

Most of the others were in a near skeletal state. One was a skeleton, as if it had been cleaned and bleached.

Max stumbled backwards.

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