Free Hold Your Breath by Caroline Green Page B

pink gums like a cat.
    ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said, ‘I was having a little nap.’ She had a strange, babyish sort of voice. ‘What did you say your name was,
darling?’
    She hadn’t said anything like that of course, but replied, ‘It’s . . . Tara.’
    The woman, presumably the aunt, Faith, that Will had mentioned, scrunched up her brow as she tried to place her. Then she smiled. ‘Well, Mel has a lot of friends.’
    A loud thud of bass suddenly drowned out her words. A black car pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked at the kerb. The music died suddenly as the engine was turned off. A bald, muscular man in a
tight black T-shirt climbed out of the car. He was staring at Tara with an interest that made her skin prickle. He half smiled as he strode up to the doorway, brushing a bit closer than he needed
to as he passed.
    ‘Who’s this, baby?’ he said to Faith.
    ‘This is Tara,’ said Faith in a friendly way, ‘she’s a friend of Mel’s. She’s brought her purse.’
    ‘Has she now,’ he said and his eyes crept up and down Tara’s body.
    Ugh, what a sleazebag
, Tara thought.
    As he moved past Faith to get through the front door, he put his hand on Faith’s bum and squeezed before leaning over and giving her an open-mouthed kiss, his eyes never leaving
Tara’s. She could actually see his meaty tongue. This, she guessed, was Ross. No wonder Melodie could be a pain, living with these two horrors. But did Leo live here too?
    She shuddered and failed to hide a grimace. ‘Thanks, if you can just let her have it, that’d be great,’ she mumbled, blushing now.
    ‘Of course, lovely,’ said Faith. ‘Thanks for dropping by.’
    She heard a giggle as the door closed and realised her hands were shaking violently. Wanting to get home more than anything, she happened to glance inside the car as she passed the window. There
was a tiny, naked doll hanging from the rear-view mirror.
    Creepy.
    Tara peered into the car. Something snagged her attention. What was it? She glanced nervously up at the windows of the house but couldn’t see anyone looking, so she scooted round to the
passenger side and peered in the window.
    It was a faded pink scrunchie. Long blond hairs were caught in it.
    The edges of her vision darkened and everything seemed to slow down. Tara could hear her own breaths, ragged and laboured, and a feeling of terror clutched at her stomach with an icy grip that
made her moan softly. Her chest hurt. It was so dark . . .
    No! Stop it. I won’t do this again.
Tara squeezed her fingernails hard into the soft flesh of her palms and the pain seemed to force her mind back to the reality of where she
stood.
    A car alarm in the next street shrieked then with earsplitting aggression and it helped to break the effect. Glancing once more at the tall white house, Tara almost sprinted out of the
cul-de-sac and towards the main road.
    The idea of walking along the towpath suddenly seemed a lot less attractive than it had earlier. A dull headache began to throb behind Tara’s left eye again.
    But she’d stopped it, hadn’t she? Sort of, anyway. She’d stopped the pictures that were trying to force their way into her mind and, for the first time in ages, it gave her a
feeling of control.
    When she was a few minutes from her front door, she pulled Will’s business card from the pocket in her bag. She looked down at what was written on it.
    Will Meadows, Musician.
    The words were in arty writing on a plain white backdrop. She reached for her phone and then hesitated. Once Will had her number, he’d probably want her to do something else in his
lovesick quest. He’d probably been dumped and just couldn’t accept it, she thought, pushing back the images that tried to nudge the back of her mind, telling her Melodie Stone was in
danger. Anyway, she’d done what Will asked her to do and now she could just leave the whole thing alone.
    She walked over to a litter bin and dropped the card into