Free No Place to Die by Clare Donoghue Page A

the description of the woman found matches that of your daughter.’ She reached into her handbag and pulled out Maggie’s file. She took the picture, a head-shot of Maggie taken in the mortuary suite, and handed it to the Hungerfords. Maggie’s father reached for the small photograph and stared down at it. Tears flowed freely down his face, but he made no sound. Maggie’s mother looked at Jane. Her eyes seemed to plead with Jane, saying, ‘Don’t make me do this.’
    Elizabeth Hungerford turned to face her husband, her shaking hand reaching out for the picture. The next few minutes would stay with Jane for life. Maggie’s mother howled and screamed at her husband, at Jane, at Penny, at the room around her. Jane looked on, helpless, as every emotion tore the poor woman apart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    I need water. I need air.
    Something is wrong. This wasn’t meant to happen. I can feel the panic now. It’s like razor wire inside my mind. It’s tearing into my brain, the soft tissue no match for its metallic barbs. The space is closing in around me. I swear I can hear the slow grind as the muddy walls inch towards me. I can smell the friction. It’s like burning coal. It will crush me. I will become part of the earth. I won’t feel any more pain. It feels like madness. I lie on my back and put my hands on my stomach, concentrating on my breaths. In and out. In and out. Each rise and fall of my chest hurts. My head is heavy. My tongue sits in my mouth like a stranded fish, bloated by the sun. I have shouted. For hours I have screamed, until my body gave out, leaving me coughing, my lungs dry and raw. Where is the euphoria now?
    There is a door, a way out. I know there is, but I can’t find it. I have searched every inch of the space, but it is hiding from me, torturing me. I lie here, my hands shaking in the darkness, tears rolling down over my ears, tickling my skin, making me itch. I scratch. My fingers feel like sandpaper against my skin. I ache. My head, my back, my stomach, my legs. Everything aches. I have dived too deep. The pressure of the nothingness presses against me, crushing me.
    I hear a sound above me. I look for it, not knowing if my eyes are open at all. I have to fight. I have to shout. I roll onto my front and push myself onto all fours. I take a deep breath and throw my head back. Nothing comes out of my mouth but a strangled hiss. I drop my head, focusing all of my strength on my lungs. I try again. Nothing. As I sit back on my haunches I begin to laugh. There is no sound, but my shoulders shake, my breath turns into ragged gasps. This is how it is meant to be. This is what I know is meant to happen. It’s all part of it. The madness retreats, frightened back into submission by my rational mind. I have let the wild thoughts take over. That’s all they are. Thoughts. I need to sleep. Once I regain my strength I can begin again. I reach back to massage my feet.
    My right foot is numb.

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    25th April
–
Friday
    Jane put her Peugeot into gear and reversed into the driveway. Her mother’s car was parked in the garage, the door open. She refused to close Jane’s garage door on principle. In her opinion, the world had ‘gone mad’ when it came to household security. Jane had spent more than a few hours trying to convince her mother that some Lewisham residents might not sign up to her particular code of ethics. She turned off the engine and used her remote to close the garage door. She picked up her briefcase from the passenger seat and climbed out of the car.
    Her morning with the Hungerfords had drained her – and that was before she had visited Maggie’s home, and SOCO had confirmed blood on the doorstep and pathway outside the house in Greenwich. There wasn’t much, but enough to warrant the theory that Maggie had been taken from her home by force. Jane closed the car door and leaned against it, relishing the support. She felt as if she had done a ten-mile run, her legs were