The Stranger's Bed by Oliver Sands

Author:Oliver Sands [Sands, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Irish fiction, Suspense, Missing Girl, crime fiction ireland, Irish writers, suspenseful, mystery, compelling, edge of seat, unreliable narrator, cabin in the woods, isolated cottage, suspense crime novels, page turner fiction, suspense mystery
Publisher: deGrevilo Publishing

October

TWENTY

Dan stares at the dripping tap in the kitchen. The shower upstairs has spluttered into life and he’s sorely tempted to blast the cold water down here so Anna gets scalded. He stares at the tap a moment longer, before dismissing the petty idea with a shake of his head. He heads up the stairs and begins to ram his few items of clothing back into his weekend bag. As he jogs back down the stairs with the bag thrown over his shoulder, a familiar twinge echoes through his lumbar region.

Great.

A second shit night’s sleep on that prolapsed sofa has stuffed up his spine and he’ll have to make a last-minute appointment with a physio. Just what he needs this close to a twenty-four-hour journey crammed into an economy seat.

Over on the coffee table, the print-out containing Anna’s flight details looks accusingly back at him in the cool light of day. What was he thinking? He grunts at his stupidity, his thankless attempt at bringing some much-needed happiness into the bloody woman’s life flung back in his face. He heads for the front door with his bag and stops abruptly when he opens it, taken aback by a thick wall of mist outside. He can see neither ground nor sky but can feel the cold dampness suspended in the air. He walks out blindly into the mist and zaps the car, the flash of the taillights barely penetrating the grey soup all around. He throws his bag into the boot and slams it shut, leaving his hand to rest on the cool metal for a moment. What would happen if he just drove out of this hellhole right now, if he left Anna here to make her own way home? He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. He couldn’t do that to her. But Christ, he’s tempted. He’s dreading the two-hour drive back to Skerries this morning.

As he reaches the front door he stops and turns, aware for the first time of the utter silence. Last night’s storm has moved off, its energy spent, nothing moving now. No branches or leaves stir overhead, no ravens caw, the world around him is in absolute stillness. Already the car has been swallowed up by the mist again and it occurs to Dan that they might struggle to find the overgrown dirt track back out of the property. He heads inside and kicks the front door closed.

The milky light coming in through the dirty windows makes the dingy living room even more depressing. He rolls his shoulders back, a needling tension stuck in between his shoulder blades. He can’t wait to get out of here, away from the lumpy sofa, the dead plants, the grimy surfaces and the tired decor. The weekend has been nothing short of a disaster. At least they did the world a service by getting rid of the fugly vase. He allows himself a sly smile at this.

His thoughts turn to the little dipshit who’s really caused this mess in the first place.

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