The Eyes of the Accused: A dark disturbing mystery thriller (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

floor. It landed with a soft plumph sound. She knelt down and waited for her eyes to adjust.
    After a short while, she could just about make out random shapes cast by the faint glow of the electric fire. She edged backwards and pushed herself off the table. Back on solid ground. Slightly more confident. At least she was no longer in danger of falling and hurting the baby. She waited for the bulb to cool and smashed it against the floor.
    Hannah made her way slowly up the steps, gripping the handrail with one hand and holding the bulb out in front of her with the other. For what seemed like hours, she sat at the top of the steps preparing herself for the fight of her life.
    In her mind’s eye, she watched the bulb strike home, rendering her captor helpless. Watched herself running out of the basement. Out of the house. Finding the nearest neighbour and raising the alarm. Police lights. The open back door of an ambulance. Robert. Her parents. A hospital bed. Freedom.
    You need to move about. Keep warm. If that door opens now, you’ll take forever to get up!
    Hannah fumbled for the handrail and hauled herself up. She walked back and forth on the tiny patch of concrete like a caged animal marking its territory. Pins and needles tattooed her legs. She gripped the remains of the lightbulb in her right hand. She reached down with her free hand and rubbed her stomach, as if reassuring the tiny life inside her she would do all she could to protect him.
    A loud click. The door unlocking.
    Hannah’s breath froze in her throat.
    Forget it! Get back down in the basement.
    The door creaked open and flooded the basement with light. Hannah didn’t have time to think about what she was going to do. She rushed forward and thrust the jagged remains of the lightbulb at her captor’s face. 
    A scream rolled around the basement. Harsh enough to break lightbulbs, you might say. Hannah’s makeshift weapon got to within a few inches of its target, but was thwarted as a tea tray, containing a foil dish of lasagne and a bottle of Highland Spring water, slammed into her face.
    Hannah dropped the bulb and staggered backwards.
    ‘You dirty little bitch.’
    Hannah groped for the handrail and just steadied herself before she tumbled down the steps. The door slammed, once more plunging the basement into darkness. Her legs turned to marshmallow. She struggled to breathe. Tiny white stars popped before her eyes. Using the rail for support, she eased herself down onto the concrete floor and peered into the dark abyss of the basement.
    Now look what you’ve gone and done.
    She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and beat her fists against the wall, but there was no strength left inside her. Maybe she ought to retrieve the jagged remains of the lightbulb and slash her wrists.
    The baby kicked, hard, as if to say, Hey, I’m still here.
    ‘I tried,’ she whispered.
    Trying counts for nothing. The world’s full of suckers who think it’s better to try and fail than to not try at all. But is it? Is it really?
    Hannah Heath didn’t think it was.

Chapter Six
     
    Friday morning found Geoff Whittle in what appeared to be quite a congenial mood, considering his wife had burned his breakfast after being interrupted by a phone call from Aunt Mary. Ben didn’t trust his father’s mood; he’d seen the results of his mother’s ineptitude too many times to be comfortable with it.
    Geoff looked at Maddie as if appraising her. ‘You look tired, love. Out clubbing last night?’
    Ben sighed. ‘Maddie doesn’t go clubbing.’
    ‘How do you know? Did you get married in a secret ceremony?’
    ‘Very funny.’
    ‘I’m fine,’ Maddie said. ‘I just need to get going.’
    ‘Glad to hear it, because we’ve got a busy day ahead. I’ve just had a call from Monica Heath, and she says she’s got a cheque for a thousand pounds waiting to be picked up.’
    Ben now realised the reason for his father’s amiable mood. ‘At least we can make a start