Page 149 of The Jealous Girl

Stalking.

How had this become normal?

Ben turned off the engine and looked at me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was still time to turn back. Go home.

I let out a deep sigh. But then what?

Prison?

Ben leaned forward, reaching under his seat.

‘What’s that for?’ I asked as he pulled a crowbar out.

‘They’re not going to leave the house unlocked with everyone out,’ he said simply.

I nodded but the knot in my stomach tightened. This wasn’t just slipping through an open window. This was breaking in.

‘This way,’ I said, as we stepped out of the car and made our way towards the fence.

I paused as we reached it. My gaze darted back and forth. My body tensed.

‘This feels wrong,’ I said quietly. As nervous as I’d been clambering around in the dark last time, at least I’d felt shielded. Protected. But 1.30 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon in broad daylight offered nowhere to hide. ‘What if someone stayed behind?’

‘They won’t,’ Ben replied, his voice certain. ‘Like you said, it would look bad for the stables.’

I grunted.

We climbed over the fence and crossed the yard, walking quickly. My heart was pounding as though we had sprinted instead.

‘Round the back,’ Ben instructed as we approached the house. He stepped forward as we reached the door, hunching over as he positioned the crowbar.

I glanced around nervously. No, this definitely wasn’t like last time.

The wood split with a sharp crack. I flinched.

Ben gave the door a shove. It swung open and he stepped inside.

I hesitated, casting a glance back behind me. Tempted to turn and run.

‘Come on,’ Ben hissed.

I followed.

The house was the same as I remembered it. Except somehow it felt smaller. More claustrophobic.

‘There’s a desk over there,’ I said, pointing to the corner of the living room.

Ben nodded. ‘I’ll check there. You look in Ryan’s room.’

I turned to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Memories of the last time I’d done so caught me off guard and I gripped the rail.

I’d left Ryan that day. No plan, nowhere to go, just the certainty that I couldn’t stay. And yet, here I was, two years later.

Still trapped.

I reached the top of the stairs and paused as I glanced at the four doors. Ryan’s, Denise and Martin’s, the guest room and the bathroom.

I turned to the master bedroom. It had to be them.