““Mum?” She might have stepped out a moment; something down at the shop, or nipping next door to the McCulloughs to borrow a stapler or a knife sharpener or to drop in a parcel. But since Dad had gone, Laura had been extra careful about locking the door, even for a step down the road. And Tuesdays was always KidSwim down at the leisure centre with Victory-Rose. They were never back before eight. Tuesdays Everett let himself in and rattled something up from the kitchen; that was the rule. Leaflet...s from pizza companies and plastic window companies had been blown around the hall, and the runner of carpet was soaked by rain. The door had been open for hours. Not Mum, then. A core of ice ran from the pit of Everett's belly to his heart, but he edged into the hall. The living room door was open. There could still be someone in the house. He peeped around the edge of the door frame. The room had been shredded. Every drawer had been pulled from the chest and tipped out, every DVD taken from the rack, opened, the disks skimmed across the floor.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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