The Stranger, Mark Ayre [microsoft ebook reader .TXT] 📗

strange hodgepodge of homes; everything from grand five-bedroom places to quaint little bungalows.

Rather than to one of the larger houses, Eddie directed Abbie to a bungalow on a slight rise. Like a river between two banks, the slab path that led from the pavement to the front door wound between gravelled lawns. The place was well kept, but with no grass and no flowers, only a window cleaner was required to keep the front looking pristine.

“Bit modest for a home of one so fearsome as Francis,” said Abbie.

“Francis doesn’t live here. No one does—but Leona owns it.”

With no more information than this, Eddie made his way up the path to the front door. Abbie resisted the urge to glance left, right, and behind; to check if anyone was watching before making her way up the path behind Eddie.

“I’ve heard couples can thrive if they sleep in different beds,” said Abbie as she joined Eddie by the front door. “Especially if one is a snorer, I’d imagine. But in different homes? That seems excessive, even for the excessively rich.”

“Francis doesn’t know about this place.”

Abbie expected to have to pick the lock. Given they were on a rise and several windows across the street had a clear view of what they were doing, the act would make Abbie nervous. There was nothing more suspicious than going onto one knee and fiddling with a lock, except maybe creeping through an open window carrying a knife or a rocket launcher.

But Abbie’s lock picking skills would not be required. From his jacket pocket, Eddie withdrew a key. For Leona’s lock, it proved to be the perfect fit. Eddie opened the door, let Abbie inside, then closed it, encasing them in darkness.

The house was silent. They stood just inside the door and listened for any sign that someone was present and awake. It was completely dark. Given the bungalow’s size, it was likely every door was within sight, hidden only by the total absence of light. Even so, they could not be sure no one was awake. Perhaps the bungalow got cold. Leona might have placed a warmer against the crack between her bedroom door and the floor. She could even now be in bed, reading a good book by lamplight. The warmer would prevent the light’s glow escaping into the hall. Abbie and Eddie would have no idea.

For thirty seconds, they stood still, listening for any sounds in the dark. Once this time had passed, Abbie took a hand and thumped the wall.

Another thirty seconds. Still, no one shifted nor rose from bed to investigate the noise. Abbie thumped the wall again and then kicked it, but in another thirty seconds, nothing happened.

From her pocket, Abbie withdrew her phone. Using the built-in torch, she shone a light on their surroundings and noted the rooms.

Seven total. The first immediately to their right. With the utmost care, Abbie eased open the door. Her hand guarding the torch, she illuminated the room beyond and discovered an empty toilet.

Closing the door, Abbie moved along the wall on the right, with Eddie following tight behind. Upon reaching the second door, Abbie repeated her actions and, this time, revealed a much larger room. A living room diner.

The guarded glow of the torch revealed little, so after a few seconds, Abbie had to raise the torch and shine it around, illuminating sofas, a telly, a drinks cabinet, a dining room table, and sliding glass doors into a conservatory.

Both the living-dining room and conservatory were empty. Retreating into the hall, Abbie moved to room three of seven (eight, if you included the conservatory) and this time found a kitchen, also empty.

Room four proved to be the master bedroom.

One foot in the door, Abbie stopped. From her position, guarded torch in hand, she could see only the foot of the bed and had no way of knowing if it was occupied. Leona might be here, asleep, Abbie’s actions having not yet woken her.

Abbie took another step. When Eddie tried to follow, she lifted a hand and put it to his chest. At a slight nudge, he took the hint and retreated from the room.

Once he was gone, Abbie located the light switch on the wall, then switched off her torch and pocketed her phone.

There was a chance Leona had heard Abbie’s thumps and deduced someone was trying to entice her from her room. Rather than doing so, she could have moved with the speed and silence of a master thief, removing a gun from her bedside table or from beneath her pillow. In the dark, she would have done what she could to ensure the safety was off and that the gun would produce a satisfying bang should she need to pull the trigger. While Abbie and Eddie searched the toilet, the living room, the kitchen, Leona would have sat calmly in bed, gun pointing towards the door, waiting for her intruder to turn on the light and to meet her maker.

More likely, she was asleep or absent.

Abbie believed in a caution first approach. Raising a hand, she placed a finger on the light switch but did not press it. Holding her finger steady, she leaned away from the light and bent her knees. Praying Eddie would not enter the room, she took a silent breath.

In the dark, Abbie pressed the switch. As the light flashed, Abbie leapt, rolling along the side of the bed, and popped up, her hands outstretched, ready to grab the armed and alarmed Leona before she could readjust her aim and blow off Abbie’s head.

But Abbie didn’t grab anyone, and Leona didn’t fire because Leona wasn’t in bed. The bed was empty.

Stepping into the room, Eddie whispered, “She doesn’t often stay here.”

Abbie looked at him.

And if looks could kill…

While Eddie returned to the living room and turned on the light, Abbie moved back into the hall. With as much caution but more speed, she confirmed the remaining rooms—office, bathroom, guest bedroom—were also empty.

The guest bedroom