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.People wouldhave lived here all their life, dying in their beds. Um, which cottage is his? he asked, anxiousto get this interview over and done with.The vibeshe was getting freaked him the hell out. I don tlike it here. Me neither.Maybe it s the remoteness, but Iwouldn t live here if you paid me. As they slowlydrove along, Langham leaned forward over thesteering wheel and peered at the cottages. None ofthem are numbered.Just named.Reynolds recordssaid he lived at number two, but it s anyone s guesswhich end of the road number two is. You could get out and ask. Oliver nodded atan elderly woman in her front garden, who hadcome out to nose at what they were doing, nodoubt.She held a watering can, which she d68SARAH MASTERStipped as though she d really come out to wet theplants, except no water drizzled from the spout. She ll know which one we re looking for.Langham drew up to the roadside outside thewoman s aged wooden picket fence and wounddown his window. Excuse me, madam.Whichhouse is number two?She squinted, all hair in a bun and wispystrands, and ground her unquestionably falseteeth.Her lips looked elasticated, undulatinglike that. What you want to know for? Who areyou? I m Detective Langham, he said, whippingout his badge and showing her. And I need tospeak to the resident.Mark Reynolds? Ain t seen him.Not since the last coppercame along to speak to him, and he lookedfamiliar.Like I d seen him before somewhere.Oliver s stomach clenched, and his arseholebunched as a wave of nausea came over him. Something s fucking off.I feel it. You and me both, man, Langham said outthe side of his mouth, then to the woman, Another policeman was here?69SUGAR STRANDS Yes, I just said so, didn t I? She tsked androlled her eyes. No idea how you people solvecrimes if you can t even process a simplesentence.Yes, another policeman.Badge just likeyours.And Mark lives back there.Second housein on the other side of the road. She marcheddown her path toward her house, turning to stareat them when she reached her front door. Thank the Lord for nosey old bitches, butfuck me, she s mean as hell, Langhammuttered. Yeah, well, mean or not, let s interview thisbloke and get out of here.This place& it isn t nice.There are too many ghosts here.I can feel themall trying to speak to me.Langham made a U-turn in the deserted road. So let them in.Maybe we ll learn something.Oliver widened his eyes. Are you fuckingserious? You try having a few of them gossipingin your head all at once.Fuck you. Fuck you too, you moody wanker. Langhamsmiled, parking outside number two, the woodenplaque beside the front door announcing thecottage as Reynolds Gaff.70SARAH MASTERSThe feeling of wrongness was stronger here.This wasn t unusual in itself.Many places hevisited when questioning people with Langhamfelt this way just not as strong.Or sinister. This is one nasty-arsed case, he mumbled. And the others we ve worked on weren t?Langham cut the engine and slipped off hisseatbelt. They were, but this one& I don t know.It shard to explain. Then don t.Soak it all up, see what you getwhen we go in, and tell me once we ve left.I ll dothe talking.You just concentrate on picking shitup.Langham got out of the car, and Oliver did thesame, his stomach heavy with dread.He hatedthis part of investigations.Negative energy alwaysfound him, and he saw sights and heard soundsno one should.Terrible things, horrible noises.Voices.After walking up the paved path bordered bya well-kept garden with a recently mowed lawnand pruned hedges, the pair stood on a shiny,red-brick step.71SUGAR STRANDSLangham glanced at Oliver before knocking. Got anything yet? At the risk of sounding cheesy, just thefeeling of impending doom, only more so.Youknow, the usual.Something being majorly off,knowing we re going to find out some shit wehadn t expected. Right. Langham knocked again. Good.They waited a minute. Wonder if he s out? Langham walked acrossto the large window beside the door, presumablythe living room. Whoa [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]