Kissing the Demons Read Online Free PDF Page B

himself a takeaway. A Saturday treat.
    He was hardly aware of passing the cathedral. All he could see in his mind’s eye was that image of Jade and Nerys and he found himself scanning the faces of women he passed for a resemblance.
    Was there a chance that those two girls were still alive? Probably not but he knew that stranger things had happened.
    He walked through Vicars’ Green and on to Gallowgate, turning left at the National Trust tea shop, now closed for the evening. As he passed beneath Monks Bar his foot made contact with a discarded chip paper and he found himself facing the main road where the buzz of traffic jerked his thoughts back to reality.
    His flat was close by, housed in a small reclaimed brick building huddled in the shadow of the city walls. Joe liked waking up each morning and seeing the grey medieval walls through his bedroom window. And he liked feeling close to the heart of things.
    He unlocked his front door and flicked on the hallway light to banish the silent gloom. The place smelled a little stale because he hadn’t had a chance to clean for over a week. Maybe he should get someone in, he thought. But he knew he’d never get round to arranging it.
    The letter that lay on the hall floor bore an Eborby post mark and a hand written address. The writing looked so familiar that his heart began to thud but he told himself that lots of people formed their letters like that. And besides, Kaitlin died years ago. A fall down cliff steps in the West Country had ended their short marriage. The sea had taken her away and smashed her body on the vicious rocks until she was hardly recognizable. From that day on he had hated the sea.
    He tore the envelope open and drew out a single sheet of paper inside, crisp, white and neatly folded. He opened it out and read the short message.
    â€˜King’s Head. Seven o’clock, Sunday. K.’
    He stared at the paper, his hands shaking a little as he clung tightly to the note, denting the pure white paper. For a few moments he stood there, trying to make some sense of what he was holding, before carrying the paper into the living room and letting it fall on to the coffee table. On second examination he could see that the writing was similar to Kaitlin’s, perhaps, but not identical. He took a deep, calming breath and considered the contents of the note. He had no plans for Sunday evening – or for any evening that week, come to that. But that didn’t mean that it was wise to keep the appointment.
    The flat was too silent. He could hear his own breathing and the clock ticking away the seconds on the mantelpiece so he decided to put the television on. At that moment he needed life. He needed company.
    After phoning in his order for an Indian takeaway and prizing the top off a bottle of Theakstons ale, he picked up the telephone, wondering whether to call Maddy. They’d promised to keep in touch after all. He muted the TV and dialled the number but there was no answer. Maddy would be out, enjoying her new life in London. He suddenly felt a wave of emptiness and shut his eyes.
    He drained the bottle and opened another. When he was half way through it and the anaesthetizing effect of the alcohol had begun to seep into his tired brain, he returned to the hall and rummaged in his briefcase. He had arranged for the video tape of the two missing girls to be transferred to DVD so that he could take it home and watch it without distraction. At least the puzzle of their disappearance would fill the empty hours.
    He returned to the living room and slid the DVD into the machine underneath his TV. After a while Jade Portright and Nerys Barnton appeared on the screen, laughing and fooling around for the camera. Self-consciously posing, their eyes flicking towards the lens as though they were concerned about the impression they were making for posterity.
    Joe forced himself to concentrate. Had Barrington Jenks had anything to do with their