Her Shallow Grave: An absolutely gripping and pulse-racing crime thriller (Detectives Kane and Alton Book 9) by D.K. Hood

Author:D.K. Hood [Hood, D.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838880392
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-07-09T18:30:00+00:00

Thirty-Six

Inside the wall of the cabin, an icy breeze brushed Zoe Henderson’s cheeks like the cold breath of a grave. The torture of indecision threatened to crush her as she edged her way forward. How much time did she have before Preacher sent down the dumbwaiter and sealed her inside the coffin-like walls? She moved as fast as possible, batting away cobwebs carrying fat spiders and searching for a way to escape. Ahead of her the only light came through a few tiny gaps between the logs. There had to be another room in the cellar. Above, she could clearly make out footsteps. Was he coming down the stairs? Had he heard them inside the walls? Surely Ava had gotten away by now. She’d headed toward the breeze, there must be a break in the rotting wooden floor somewhere.

The footsteps stopped and Zoe held her breath. No voice came from behind her, Isabella was playing her part and pretending to be asleep. Edging forward, her hand brushed against something metal. Frantically she searched the wall. Her fingers closed around a doorknob. A pulse thumped in her ears. It was now or never. Turning the handle gently, she almost cried out with joy as the door opened. She peered into a dark room and listened. Not one sound came from inside. Fear gripped her as she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. The air had a strange smell, like the meat department in a store. She ran her hand over the wall and frowned at the unmistakable slide of thick plastic under her fingers. Before she had time to think, a bright light blinded her. She staggered back, fumbling for the door handle. Then she heard a voice.

“Ah, so it’s you.” Preacher sounded calm. “I wondered which one of you would come first.”

Zoe turned and looked into his cold soulless eyes and dread washed over her. A bench carried a bloody chainsaw and chest freezers lined the walls. She stumbled over her words. “I’m sorry, I’ll go back to my room.”

“No, that’s not possible.” Preacher was slowly pulling on a pair of leather gloves as he walked toward her. “I need you for my art.”

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