No Other Darkness Read Online Free PDF

lot more expensive?’
    ‘No, just a lot less finished.’ Her voice was dry. ‘It was the developer’s show home. They cut corners to get it ready in time. Then someone noticed the ventilation pipes weren’t connected. The overflow fed into the walls instead of outside. Little things like that.’
    ‘That and the bunker in the garden . . . You think the developers knew about it?’
    ‘Someone did.’
    ‘They built the houses . . . over the boys?’
    ‘If they’re boys,’ Marnie said. ‘Yes.’
    A movement at the window on the third floor made them look up, too late to see anything other than the curtain dropping back into place.
    ‘Clancy,’ Marnie said, in the same dry voice as before. ‘The Doyles are fostering him. He was watching me in the bunker, too.’
    ‘Yes, I saw him at the house . . .’ Noah hated the feeling of being watched. He imagined Marnie felt the same.
    They looked at the window for a minute, but the curtain didn’t move again.
    At his side, Marnie shivered. ‘Come on. Before the ghosts get the better of me.’
    She started walking in the direction of the squad car, carrying the wellington boots she’d taken from Terry.
    Noah followed. ‘Ghosts?’
    ‘This road,’ she swung back to look at him, ‘is full of ghosts. Can’t you feel them?’

6
Lawton Down Prison, Durham
    The ghosts are out in force today. I can smell them. Sweet and biscuity, like just-washed hair before bedtime. I want to tuck them in and lie down beside them, breathe their sweet smell, bury my nose in their little necks and whisper through the dark.
    I daren’t, of course.
    For one thing, Esther would hear.
    The ghosts are scared of Esther. They won’t come close when she’s here, no matter how wide I spread my arms. It’s as if she’s still killing them, over and over.
    She can’t stop. I don’t think she ever will.
    It’s who she is.
    Everyone is scared of Esther, even grown men, policemen.
    She’s a special kind of monster.
    My kind.

7
London
    OCU Commander Tim Welland looked like an avalanche waiting to land, his big face fisted in a frown. ‘Where’re we up to, detectives? And don’t sugar-coat it.’
    ‘Two small children,’ Marnie said, ‘dead and down there at least four years. Fran’s doing the post-mortems as a priority.’
    Welland looked the length of Blackthorn Road. ‘Who found them?’
    ‘Terry Doyle. It’s his garden, but four years ago there weren’t any gardens, only fields. We’re looking for someone who knew this place before the houses went up.’
    ‘Missing Persons haven’t turned up any names, is that right?’
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘Four years ago . . .’ Welland pulled at his lower lip.
    ‘At least four years.’ Marnie glanced at her watch. ‘Fran should have some answers for us soon. Nothing definitive perhaps, but she’ll have something. And Missing Persons; two small children can’t have vanished without someone reporting it. Not even in London.’
    ‘Right . . .’ Welland leaned on the word until it buckled.He sniffed. ‘I smell scumbag . . . The media’s en route. You’ll want to field that, detective.’
    ‘I’ve got it.’ Marnie nodded. ‘Press briefing at the station in a couple of hours.’
    ‘Have you spoken with the Finchers?’ Welland said next.
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘And that neighbour of theirs, what was his name? Dougal . . .?’
    ‘Douglas. Doug Cole.’
    ‘Right, gutless Douglas . . .’ Welland curled his lip. ‘Have you spoken with him?’
    ‘Not yet. I don’t want to waste time. We’re looking for someone who was here four or five years ago. Cole and the Finchers have lived here less than two years.’
    ‘You’re not looking for someone who was living here, just someone who knew about the bunker down there.’
    ‘And you think Mr Cole might have known that?’
    Welland tipped his face to the sky. ‘What do I think about Mr Cole?’ He brought his stare down to Marnie’s face. ‘I think gutless Douglas