Cut The Threads by Robin Roughley

Author:Robin Roughley [Roughley, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 2018-02-21T22:00:00+00:00

58

Marnie hesitated then hurled the heavy rockery stone through the glass panel of the orangery door. The chunk of stone shattered the glass before landing with a thump on the white-tiled floor. She waited for the wail of alarms and then frowned when the house remained silent.

Moving forwards, she lashed out with the heel of her boot, diamond chips fell to the ground, then she squeezed through the gap.

After matching the lace bracelet with the one in the photograph she had called Reese to explain what had happened, he had told her to hang fire and he would be there within the next thirty minutes. As soon as she had ended the call Marnie had gone in search of an open window but in the end her frustration had become too much to bear so she had used the stone to gain entrance.

Now, she stood amongst the broken glass, no doubt Reese wouldn’t be happy with her gung-ho attitude but any concerns about a reprimand were pushed from her mind as she thought of the missing Rowan Hall.

Walking forward, she left the glass room and went through to the kitchen, a quick look around and then she headed into the hallway. Seeing the four short steps leading down to a stout black door she stopped and sniffed the air, her brow creasing in distaste. Hanging above the door were half a dozen tree-shaped air fresheners, their sickly scent mingling with something dark and sour.

Marnie walked down the steps, her footfall loud in the confined space. Reaching the door, she grabbed the handle and turned, the lock clicked and she pushed it open, the look of disgust on her face deepening when the foul stench drifted out into the narrow opening.

Marnie felt her heart quicken as she stepped into the cellar and saw the stained, single bed pushed up against the far wall, she glanced into the far corner, instantly realising that the stench was coming from the small chemical toilet. The rest of the cellar was bare, at some stage the plaster walls had been whitewashed, but the paint had turned grey making the space look drab and careworn.

Moving deeper into the room she took in the scrunched-up takeaway bags littering the dusty, cement floor, the single bulb hanging from the low ceiling, cobwebs leading from the flex and back to the beamed roof.

A soiled duvet lay at the side of the bed, grimy pillow next to it, placing the back of her hand on the pillow, feeling the dampness, she scowled before turning and looking back towards the door, her anger building. She had no doubt that Rowan Hall had been held captive in this stinking room and Marnie also suspected that she had been moved recently but the question was where had she been moved to and where was Phelps?

When she heard the sound of a footfall on the stairs she snapped her head up, her body tensing as the shadow bled into the room.

By habit, she grabbed

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