Free Concrete Evidence by Conrad Jones Page A

turned to see him climbing through the gap only to catch his sleeve on an exposed nail. It gave her precious seconds.
    “Mrs Webb,” his voice had reached full volume now, anger and exertion tinged his words. “Do not enter that house or I will arrest you!”
    The garbled threat meant nothing to her. She reached up and grasped the top bolt with her fingers. The blood blister burst and she whimpered in pain but struggled to slide it open regardless. It slotted home with a clunk and she turned the Yale key with her other hand using her weight to open the door. “Jackie!” she shouted as she stumbled into the kitchen. The silence inside was deafening. “Jackie!” she felt broken glass crunching beneath her feet as she ran towards the door, which led to the hallway. “Jackie!” she turned the handle and pulled it open, her vision now blurred with tears. “Jackie!”
    “Mrs Webb!” Bowers was entering the kitchen door. He reached out to grab her, his fingers touching her clothes briefly. “Stop right there!”
    Mrs Webb bolted into the hallway and glanced into the bathroom. Her mouth fell open loosely and her features changed to an expression of anguish. The sink was covered with dark stains. It looked like blood. Dried black blood. Jackie’s blood? Her legs turned to jelly. The taps were covered in it and the mirror was smeared with finger marks. Blood. Jackie’s blood? “No, no, no,” she whispered. She couldn’t think straight. There were words on the mirror but they didn’t register; all the information flashed through her mind in an instant. Where was Jackie? She grabbed at the wall for support, her knees weakened by the sight of blood. Her daughter’s blood? “Oh, God no,” she gasped as she looked into the living room. Bloody handprints smeared the walls, the door and the frame, long finger marks as if someone had been dragged bleeding along the hallway, desperately trying to claw at the walls for grip. “Jackie!” she screamed as she reached the bedroom door. “Jackie?” she said in a whimper. “Jackie?” Her knees buckled and she flopped to the floor like a pilgrim at prayer. “Jackie?” her chest heaved and her voice cracked with pain. “Oh, no, please no.” She sobbed. “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie,” her words just a whisper in the silence.
    Bowers reached her, a panting sweaty heap. His face was purple with anger and exhaustion. “Mrs Webb,” he started to say. As he took in the scene in the bedroom his voice trailed off and his breathing stopped in his chest. He felt the half digested contents of his stomach rising in his throat and he gagged as it erupted from his mouth and splattered onto the carpet.                 
     
                 
     
                                     CHAPTER 12
     
                  “Even though they’ve given the all clear, I’m not in the slightest bit happy,” Annie said as she stepped into the kitchen at Sefton Heights. Broken glass cracked beneath her tan leather boots. “Did the Bomb Squad say they’re checking the BMW?” she said to Sterling, who was a few steps behind her.
                  “They’re on it now, Guv. Underneath it and inside are clear but they want to check the engine just in case.” He grunted. “We didn’t recover the keys so they broke into it instead of waiting for a spare remote to be programmed at a dealership in the city. They’re letting residents back into their apartments so they must be sure there are no devices.”
                  Annie nodded silently and looked around. The kitchen was tidy; all the appliances were new and expensive. A single cup stood on the draining board. She opened the fridge with a gloved hand and studied the empty shelves. One egg remained in a half dozen box on the top shelf. An inch of semi-skimmed which according to the use by date, was a week old stood in the door. “Looks like she dined out