Free DARK HOUSES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense by Helen H. Durrant Page B

one.”
    Grace looked at Speedy. The previous occupants of both houses were living in the same care home. Could it be another piece of the puzzle? But how did it fit? Craig had been right. He wasn’t invisible, people had seen him. Their descriptions tallied. The problem was, no one had recognised him. So he wasn’t from these streets.
    * * *
    Greco had parked outside the Proctor house. He sat in the car, staring at the stone walls and imposing double door front entrance. There were two cars on the driveway, and both were large and expensive. He sighed. He couldn’t put this off any longer. It would be hard, but he had to get it done.
    He was halfway up the drive when a woman appeared at the front door.
    “Is it about Jenna?”
    She was dressed for work in a suit and high heels, and looked to be in her mid-forties.
    “The girl’s got no thought for anyone but herself. I told her to tell me if she was staying out. I was up and down the road last night looking for her. She has me worried sick when she does this.”
    “Mrs Proctor?”
    She blinked, and backed away from him slightly.
    “I’m DI Greco from Oldston CID. Can we talk?”
    She gave him a nervous smile and led the way inside.
    “My husband has already left for work. She’s not got herself locked up or something, has she? I’ve got a meeting in half an hour. Stupid girl.”
    “Are you here on your own?”
    “Jonathan!” she called.
    Seconds later a tall, skinny youth with long hair appeared at the end of the hallway. “It’s Jenna. She’s been up to her tricks again,” she said.
    “Mrs Proctor, perhaps you should sit down.”
    She began to shake. She gazed at Greco, as he tried to formulate his words.
    “Tell me. Just tell me. What can she have done to bring you here?”
    “I’m afraid Jenna has been killed, Mrs Proctor. I’m very sorry.”
    The youth put an arm around her shoulder and led her down the hall to the lounge. She wailed and clung to him. Greco followed.
    Jonathan Proctor helped his mother sit down. He turned to look at Greco. “You’re wrong, I know. This is some sick joke. She’s getting back at Mum for being such a cow to her last night.”
    “Jenna has been murdered,” Greco said. “We found her body this morning, in a house in Oldston.”
    “Murdered . . ?” Jenna’s mother said. “Why? Why my Jenna?”
    “We don’t know,” said Greco. “Do you know where she went last night?”
    “The Rave club in town,” Jonathan replied. “She loved the place. So did half her school year. Ask them.”
    “Oh, I will,” Greco said. “When did you last hear from her?”
    “We spoke on the phone, late last night,” said Mrs Proctor. “It must have been about midnight. She was on her way home — a taxi, she said. We have an arrangement. Whenever she gets a taxi at night she’s supposed to text me a photo of the licence plate. But last night she didn’t. I waited. I’d already been out looking for her. When she didn’t text, I got annoyed. On weekdays she’s allowed out until eleven and no later. We had words and Jenna lost her temper. I presumed she’d gone home with one of her friends.”
    “I’m going to arrange for a female officer to come and look after you,” said Greco. “She’ll keep you informed of progress. Are you okay with that?”
    Her eyes met his. “Murdered? I don’t understand. Why my Jenna? What’s she ever done to deserve that?”
    “She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mrs Proctor.” Greco paused. “Are you up to making a formal identification?”
    “Yes.” She sat up straight then, and took hold of her son’s hand. “You’ll come with me, won’t you, Jonathan? We can say goodbye.”
    “I’d also like an up-to-date photo of her, please.”
    She went over to the window and took one from a frame on the sill. It showed a teenager with blonde hair and a pretty smile. She looked carefree, happy.
    Back in his car, Greco rang Grace and told her about the girls and the