Page 107 of M for Murder

The backyard was secluded. There were no lights on inside, only an overhead wall lantern, brass, like the two out front. The dim glow it cast created the illusion that the black shadows of the surrounding trees and bushes were dancing together on the lawn. There was a large pond at the far end of the yard and the leaves of the willow tree that hung above drooped down into the water. A patio table and chairs were set up close to the house, though the umbrella and cushions had been removed and she guessed they were probably in the small wooden shed that stood near the pond. Like the house, it suggested that no one was home. Maybe it was a cat she’d heard after all.

She was about to make her way back to the front of the house and call Hickok, when a shrill, high-pitched scream cut through the air, and her heart lurched into her mouth. Stopping dead in her tracks, Rebecca stared at the house; the sound had come from inside.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

She ran to the back door, tugging on the handle, knowing she should stop and assess the situation, but not wanting to waste time.

The door was locked.

Cursing under her breath for believing she would be lucky enough to find it unlocked, she took a step back, wondering if she should go back and try the front door. It was then that she noticed one of the back windows had been left ajar. A small sliding window on the ground floor that had been pulled down, exposing what was probably no more than a ten-inch gap.

She doubted that she’d be able to get through such a narrow space but dragged one of the plastic chairs across the patio, placing it beneath the window. Standing on tiptoe on the seat of the chair, she peered through the crack and found herself looking into some kind of laundry room. Despite the darkness, she could make out a washer and dryer on the opposite wall, and a shelf that contained fabric conditioner and soap powder.

Forcing the window down another inch, Rebecca debated as to whether or not there was enough room for her to get through.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Remembering the scream she’d heard and wondering if it was Kylan, she climbed up from the chair, onto the brick ledge, and lowered herself enough to squeeze her head, shoulders and arms through the open space. There was nothing inside the room to hold on to except for the window frame and she gripped on to it tightly as she attempted to pull the rest of her body through.

She was halfway through when her ass got jammed.

Shit! Goddamn it!

Dangling precariously, half in and half out of the window, she wiggled from side to side, ignoring the cutting pain of the frame digging into her stomach.

Damn my big fat ass.

She cursed herself, wishing that she’d had more willpower when it came to resisting unhealthy food. Clenching her teeth together, she pressed the palms of her hands against the inside of the glass and gave herself a hard push.

As she came unstuck, her ass went flying through the window, followed by her flailing legs, and she reached out, frantically trying to grab hold of something to break her fall. Directly below the window was a heaped basket of washing and she fell into it headfirst, her legs flying over her head and crashing loudly into the door of the dryer.

Rebecca lay dazed for a moment sprawled half in the basket, half on the floor. Her ankles hurt where they’d caught the dryer door and she reached down to rub them, wondering if anyone had heard her.

Of course they did, you dip shit! And so did probably half the neighbourhood.

Picking herself up from the floor, she stared cautiously at the closed door. What if the killer was waiting on the other side for her?

She wished for the first time that she had her side arm with her. Not having realised that the trip to Seattle could be potentially life-threatening, she had left it back in her apartment.

Talk about always be prepared. You screwed up good this time.

Gingerly, she reached out for the door handle and slowly pulled the door open.

The laundry room led directly on to the kitchen. The room was dark and filled with shadows, but no one appeared to be waiting on the other side of the door for her. Being careful not to make any more unnecessary noise, she stepped into the kitchen and took a quick glance around. The units were white and clean. There was no food or dirty dishes on the side to suggest that anyone was there.

What about the scream you heard?

Rebecca peered cautiously over her shoulder at the open door that led into the hall. If she was going to explore the house, she needed some kind of weapon. Noticing the wooden knife block that stood on the sideboard, she tiptoed across the room and selected herself a carving knife. The blade looked sharp and she didn’t doubt that it would do the job should she need to use it. Hopefully she wouldn’t. It was possible that she was jumping to the wrong conclusions and there was a perfectly logical explanation for the scream she’d heard.

Before she’d even finished reassuring herself, she found her attention drawn back to the knife block and the two empty slots.

One which her own knife had occupied and one where there didn’t seem to be any knife at all.

You know what the Alphabet Killer likes to do to his victims.

Rebecca pushed the thought from her mind. Maybe the knife had been missing for some time. Maybe it had been stashed away in a drawer by mistake.

Or maybe there is someone else in the house who is already using it.