The Next Girl(Detective Gina Harte #1)(34)

‘I don’t want to be alone tonight,’ she replied, wiping her tear-stained face.

‘Shall I bring the wine to you then?’

She could play his game too. She ended the call, knowing full well he’d turn up. What the hell was she doing? What were they doing? He was her DCI. She was lonely – no, she was slowly dying inside, being eaten up by the secrets that were invading her new life, secrets she’d tried to bury. She’d bury them tonight, at least, and worry about the consequences another day. She swigged the rest of the wine and stared at the window, waiting for Briggs to pull up, like some desperate schoolgirl hoping her date didn’t let her down. Needy little Gina. Terry had summed her up well.





Twenty-Two





Monday, 4 December 2017





He closed his eyes and gave up fighting the overwhelming urge to sleep. If he had another nightmare then so be it. Luke took a deep breath and welcomed the images that came to him.

As he drifted off into deeper slumber, Debbie was soon lying next to him in bed. He rubbed his eyes to get a clearer view then he stared at her in awe as she slept soundly. Her soft hair tangled in his fingers and her lily-scented moisturiser delighted his nostrils.

In his dream, the light from the moon outlined the shape of her face. Isobel began to coo in the next room. Slowly he turned and rolled out of bed.

He left the room and entered total darkness. Isobel’s cooing turned into screaming before hitting a piercing shriek. As he entered her room, he saw a beast. The huge shadow with red eyes bore deep into his mind. But it disappeared, gone in a flash. His heart pounded as he gazed at the crib. The crib was empty and hadn’t even been slept in. The bawling continued to sound through his head. ‘Isobel,’ he called.

‘Daddy,’ said Max in a distorted voice. Luke ran and ran, from one room to the next, searching. His heart beat like it was going to explode from his chest.

‘Debbie,’ he called. ‘Max.’

‘Daddy,’ the voice called back as it disappeared. Isobel shrieked louder. He ran faster. How had his house turned into a maze of dark concrete walls that all led to nowhere? Every turn he took led to another walled corridor. He ran until he reached his bedroom.

‘Luke?’ Debbie called. He ran and turned into his bedroom. The beast was upon her, suffocating her with his large body. Isobel was trying to feed from her breast, being crushed between the beast and his darling Debbie. The creature turned to him, fiery eyes glowing in the dark and rancid saliva dripping from its mouth, contaminating every part of Debbie. He watched as the beast enveloped his wife and they both disappeared, taking the suckling Isobel with them.



* * *



The latch on the back gate clicked back into place. Luke jolted up in bed, covered in sweat, his eyes wide open. His heartbeat was so erratic, he thought he might vomit. He turned on the lamp as he fought to get his breath back. Debbie wasn’t next to him, she never was. He listened in the dark as someone walked across his garden slabs before stopping outside the back door. The handle rattled.

He leaped out of bed and ran to the window. He stared out and saw a dark figure trying to open the door. His heart continued to pound as he ran down the stairs and crept across the kitchen floor, trying to remain out of the intruder’s sight. The figure was now on the other side of the windowpane. Luke wanted to turn on the light but he knew his eyes would be slow to adjust. He had to see who this person was. Maybe it had something to do with Debbie.

He remembered the man sitting on the wall the other day, watching him and Brooke from afar. Had that been a coincidence? Too many odd things were happening now. He slid open the kitchen drawer and snatched a bread knife. He’d never used a weapon before and had no idea what to do if it came to it, but he clenched it in front of his chest.

The intruder gave up on the window and walked back to the kitchen door. Luke watched as the hooded figure stepped back and grabbed the plant pot that sat by the side of the door. As the man leaned back to smash the pot into the window, Luke pressed his face against it and held up the knife. The figure dropped the pot with a loud crash and darted out of the garden before Luke managed to get a proper look at him.

Luke ran into the living room, knocking into the Christmas tree as he swerved towards the window. He watched as the intruder ran off into the darkness. He looked at the illuminated clock on the DVD player; it was just gone three in the morning.

He ran up the stairs into Heidi’s bedroom. She lay there open-mouthed, sleeping soundly. Holding his chest and exhaling, he crept into Max’s room and watched as Max stirred then went back to sleep.

He darted back into his bedroom. A few minutes before the intruder had disturbed him, he’d believed that Debbie was next to him. He’d touched her, smelled her, felt his heart burst with love as he’d stroked her hair. But he’d gone to bed alone and he had woken up alone, as he had done for years now. The dream had felt so real. He felt his eyes begin to tear up. He rolled over onto Debbie’s side of the bed and hugged her pillow. ‘I miss you, Debbie,’ he whispered as he let his tears fall, slamming his fist into the pillow.

‘Daddy?’ Max walked into Luke’s bedroom with one eye open, clutching a small blanket.

‘Hello, little man. What are you doing up?’ Luke wiped his tears away and forced a smile.

‘I heard a funny noise. Were you running around the house?’