Free The Hidden Girl by Louise Millar

on top of each other.
    Hannah’s heart dropped through her stomach.
    Someone was in here.
    Forcing her legs to move, she ran to the door, almost horizontal in her attempt to stop the intruder catching her. Breathless with fear, she swung round into the hall and slammed the sitting-room door shut so hard behind her that the handle nearly came off. Fumbling, she turned the key back in the lock.
    Hannah jammed her feet into Will’s trainers by the front door and ran out into the snowy garden. The driveway looked a mile long.
    Was he behind her?
    Shaking, she stumbled through the snow blizzard towards the lane.
    How did he get in there?
    She reached the oak trees, and kept going. Panicked thoughts flew at her.
    If she hid in the bushes, he’d see her footprints in the snow and find her.
    The house next door was shut up.
    No cars came down this lane.
    Tornley was a quarter of a mile away.
    If he came for her, she couldn’t get away.
    Hannah tripped, steadied herself and kept going, trying to remember what to do.
    First rule in a dangerous situation: alert someone.
    She grabbed for her phone as she reached the gate.
    A growling noise came out of nowhere.
    With a gasp, she jumped sideways into the bushes, waiting for a hand on her back.
    Then she realized it was a car. After forty-eight hours of near-silence, the engine cut through the garden like a chainsaw.
    A red pickup truck with huge, broad tyres swung through the gate and skidded to a stop, sending snow and gravel into her legs.
    The door flew open.
    A man jumped out.
    Hannah was so shocked, it took her a second to recognize him.
    Dax.
    He was still wearing an oily boiler suit and black gloves. If he was cold, he didn’t show it.
    ‘Aye-aye. Bit chilly for gardening, in’t it?’ He had that bemused expression on his face.
    Hannah stood up and walked out of the bush. Her knee stung. It was bleeding.
    ‘Right,’ Dax said, marching away. ‘Let’s see this boiler.’
    She found her voice. ‘No! Don’t! There’s someone in there. In the house.’
    He halted.
    ‘They’ve broken in. There’s someone in the sitting room.’
    Dax gave her a quizzical look.
    ‘Please, it’s not funny,’ she said brushing off snow. ‘I just unlocked the sitting room and there was someone in there.’
    ‘Who’s that then?’
    ‘I didn’t see. He was lying on the floor under bin bags, and when I walked in he stood up, and I ran.’
    Dax glanced down at Will’s size-eleven trainers and back at her face. He shrugged. ‘Vagrant, most like.’
    ‘A vagrant?’
    He marched towards the house. ‘Get ’em, round here. Pain in the bloody arse. Where is he?’
    ‘No!’ Hannah called, following him. ‘No, Dax. Please. I locked him in. We need to call the police.’
    Dax snorted. ‘You’ll be waiting all day then. Police don’t waste time on that lot. Too many of ’em.’ He turned sharp left through the front door and, to Hannah’s horror, unlocked the sitting-room door and walked straight in.
    How did he even know where the sitting room was?
    She crept behind him, trying to focus in the half-gloom.
    To her astonishment, the sitting room was empty. Dax was already pushing back the rest of the shutters. On the floor was what she now saw was just one black bin bag, and a brown blanket. There was an apple core and two empty crisp packets, and a dusty black T-shirt and some rolled-up socks. With a fright she saw the red blanket by the window. She spun around.
    Where was the man?
    ‘Yup. Vagrant,’ Dax nodded, poking his finger at the side-window. To her shock, the cream blind had been pulled up. The window opened straight out into the exterior alcove. There was no catch on it. A thought hit her and she felt sick. Had the man been in the house last night whilst she slept?
    ‘Come through here,’ Dax said, pointing.
    ‘Seriously?’ she said, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘Oh my God. When you say vagrant, you mean a homeless person? Isn’t that a bit weird – I mean, in the