Читать книгу The Escape: The gripping, twisty thriller from the #1 bestseller - C.L. Taylor, C.L. Taylor, C. L. Taylor - Страница 21

I barrel out of the house with Elise in my arms, slam the door behind me and smack straight into something – or someone – solid.

‘Woah!’ An older woman with short, dyed red hair and a wide face lurches away from me.

‘Are you OK?’ She hitches her handbag and tote back onto her shoulder. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

I want to get as far away from the house as I can but she’s blocking the path, effectively trapping me between the bay window and the low wall that separates our house from Naija’s. Elise screams in my ear and tightens her grip around my neck, making it hard for me to breathe.

‘Please.’ I hold up a hand, warning the woman not to get any closer. ‘Please just let me go.’

‘It’s OK.’ She takes a step back and raises both hands. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ Her brow furrows. ‘You are Jo Blackmore, aren’t you? I’m Lorraine Hooper. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’

Relief floods through me as she says her name. I thought she was someone Paula sent round to threaten me. In my haste to get out of the house I completely forgot why I came home in the first place.

‘I …’ I set Elise down on her feet and take her hand. ‘I …’

‘Would you like to sit down for a second,’ – Lorraine gestures towards the wall – ‘and get your breath back? Then you can tell me what’s happened.’

‘The house. The house …’ I fight to control my breathing but the harder I try the more ragged it becomes. My heart’s pounding and I feel like I’m about to pass out.

‘What’s wrong with the house?’ She takes a step to her left and approaches the bay window, then stoops to peer inside. The stoic expression on her face morphs into concern.

‘It’s a little messy,’ she says, giving me what I’m sure she thinks is an understanding look. ‘But that’s OK. We all let the housework go when we’ve got a lot on our plate. Is your husband at home?’

‘I don’t … I don’t …’

Frustration rages inside me. Why can’t she see what’s happened? My house isn’t ‘a little messy’. It’s been ransacked and my husband is in danger. I need to ring the police but I can’t speak. I can’t fucking speak.