Taunting the Dead Read Online Free PDF

there’s a woman”?’
    Kirstie grimaced and purposely moved her head away from the stench of Steph’s ghastly beer breath.
    ‘You’d be better taking note of that, dear daughter, as you’re going to find yourself in my situation one day. Married to a man who isn’t around enough as he’s too interested in money and his fucking reputation.’
    Tears formed in Kirstie’s eyes. Steph noticed them immediately.
    ‘Don’t start your whinging. You’re big enough to dish it out. You should be big enough to take it back.’
    Kirstie shrugged her arm, trying to release Steph’s grip. But Steph’s fingers tightened further. She squeezed harder, until they were hurting, but she never lessened the pressure. Finally, she pushed Kirstie away.
    ‘Go on, get out of my sight.’
    Kirstie stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. She ran up the stairs, turning back as she got to the top. ‘I hate you, you stupid, bitch!’ She sneered. ‘I hope you rot in Hell!’
    ‘Why, you little –’
    Steph charged up the stairs after her. By the time she reached the landing, Kirstie had made it to the family bathroom. Steph heard the lock slide into place behind the door. She banged hard on it. ‘Come out here, you little bitch,’ she screeched. ‘I’ll kill you, I will. I’ll fucking kill you!’
    Moments later, breathless and hands stinging, Steph dropped to the floor in a heap. What the hell was happening to her lately? It was as if everyone she knew wanted to take advantage of her. First Phil and then Kirstie. Who’d be next, she wondered?
    She grabbed hold of her hair and bunched her hands into fists, pulling harshly. Then a noise came from deep within and she screamed.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Early Monday morning Allie parked the unmarked police car, switched off the engine and stared down the bank in front of her. Georgia Road was on the outskirts of Hanley. It wasn’t a road that was frequented much after dark; it was busy during the day, though, due to the short-cut through from the estate to the city centre. To her left was the shell of unfinished flats. To her right were twenty-two houses in a row, all with identical floor plans. For anyone passing through, Georgia Road would seem to be a pleasant row of terraced houses. But anyone living in Stoke-on-Trent would be sure to know that they were owned by local property developer Terry Ryder and known locally as Ryder’s Row.
    There were frequent shout-outs to Georgia Road. Domestics were par for the course, a regular weekend trip. There were often loud parties but no complaints of noise. No one ever saw or heard anything that happened. So trying to question anyone there had always proved fruitless.
    None of the door-to-door enquiries regarding the murder of Sarah Maddison had turned up anything. No one in Georgia Road had heard or seen anything happening at number fourteen, where Andy Maddison and his family had resided until a week ago. He’d even left the back door open and legged it, not thinking for one moment of his sleeping children upstairs. Although the properties had tiny walled yards, most of them with gates that fastened, either of his young boys could have wandered out.
    It struck Allie as odd that Maddison hadn’t abandoned the knife where he’d stood after the mist had dropped and he’d seen what he’d done. Yes, he’d confessed and was likely to be telling the truth because he was off his head on heroin at the time. But Allie still had her doubts that he had done it all by himself.
    After arresting Andy Maddison last week, they’d found enough DNA at the crime scene and on Maddison’s person for a conviction, as his wife had been beaten to a pulp with his fists as well as receiving a fatal stab wound to her stomach. But that was strange in itself. Sarah and Andy had been together for years – ten that Allie knew of, at least. And although they’d had their fair share of domestic call-outs, for that level of violence to occur, it didn’t add up.
    And