Free Vendetta by Dreda Say Mitchell

someone her age but suited her small face.
    ‘Yes?’ she asked in a nervous, foreign accent.
    ‘Hi. You don’t know me but I’m Elena’s boyfriend and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her for the past few days. She hasn’t been to work either. I’m desperately worried something’s happened to her. She’s not answering her phone or her mobile.’ Mac looked upwards. ‘And I’m afraid something’s happened to her upstairs in her flat, that’s she’s had an accident or she’s ill. I’ve called the police but they say they can’t come for a couple of hours and I can’t wait that long.’
    Mac sounded desperate, panicky and strained. He didn’t need to fake it; he was all those things anyway. But the girl looked unconvinced.
    Mac pressed on. ‘So I was wondering if you could let me in? Just to make sure she’s not unconscious upstairs.’
    The woman arched her eyebrow, so Mac pleaded, ‘Please . . . I can’t wait for the cops and I don’t have a key.’
    His hand drifted downwards and backwards towards his gun. He didn’t want to have to wave his gun in front of anyone else, but he’d decided he was going into the flat by any means necessary. But as he did so the door was closed in his face before he had a chance to get his foot into the gap. He rested his forehead on the door in despair. Then he heard the clang of the chain being pulled on the other side. He lifted his head at the same time the door opened up. Ordinarily, he would have noticed the woman’s beauty, but instead he looked down the hall to where another door blocked the entrance up to Elena’s flat.
    He looked back at the woman, ‘Do you know Elena?’
    ‘Only to say hello to. I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.’ She sounded deeply uncomfortable.
    He walked past her to the door to Elena’s home and tried to tug it, but it was locked. ‘I’ll have to force my way in.’
    ‘There’s no need – she keeps a spare on the ledge over the door.’
    Mac reached up and felt along the ledge and found the key. Turned the lock and opened the door. Wooden stairs led upwards in front of him. When he looked back at the neighbour, she was staring intently at him, suspicion back on her face. He gave it less than ten minutes before she called the cops, so he needed to work fast. He took the stairs two at a time, leaving the door open behind him so he could hear anyone coming through the front door.
    First thing he did when he got in the apartment was to check the escape routes. In the kitchen was a window that opened onto a lean-to, from which it was possible to jump into the garden. He opened it in case he needed to leave quickly. Then he walked back to the landing and looked around at the place where the woman he’d cared so much for had lived.
    A standard operator’s flat. Totally anonymous. Futon bed, chest of drawers with a few clothes, some bric-a-brac furniture, a few kitchen utensils and a half-used jar of expensive coffee. No pictures, no photos, none of the knick-knacks that usually clutter mantelpieces and shelves. It was almost as if Elena had never lived here but resided somewhere else. Then he saw that the two-piece cream sofa had a rumpled blanket on it, one of its cushions obviously used as a makeshift pillow. Had someone else been staying here as well?
    He turned his attention back to the rest of the main room, but stopped at the sight of a mug with blackberry tone lipstick around the rim. Elena’s colour of choice to grace her lips. He ran a fingertip around the mark, which ended halfway round the cup. It was like he could feel her. Like she was in the room. The sudden ache in his chest made him close his eyes. Mac still couldn’t believe she was gone. They’d only been laughing together last week as they walked hand-in-hand to a café, her sleek, black bob gleaming in the unexpected sunshine.
    He slipped his finger back as he reopened his eyes. Just as he started to move his gaze on he noticed a small