by Shaun Hutson
“Not much,” Ronni told her, slipping off her shoes and sitting on the chair next to the window. She looked out into the impenetrable darkness.
“What if they come back, Ronni?” Alison wanted to know.
The police said they won’t. Not tonight, anyway.”
“And what about tomorrow? And the night after?”
Ronni merely shook her head and continued to gaze out into the night.
“I wish I knew,” she whispered.
“WE’LL FIND HER, Barbara,” Ronni said, one hand on the arm of the wheelchair-bound resident.
“She can’t have gone far.”
“She can’t get through the fence,” Janice Holland added, pulling up a chair beside the older woman.
“She’s probably just hiding somewhere.”
“She always comes when I call her,” Barbara insisted, gazing out across the lawn at the other residents of Shelby House, who were wandering about peering into bushes in search of the missing dog.
Ronni tried to remember the last time she’d seen the little Highland terrier. Jack Fuller had spent most of the afternoon throwing a ball for it to chase. After he’d sat down to eat his food, the dog had continued romping happily on its own, even occasionally wandering back towards its owner. Ronni herself had fed it two or three sandwiches.
“She’ll be all right, love,” Janice insisted, holding Barbara’s hand as Ronni finally wandered off to join the search.
She ran a hand through her hair, remembering the previous day when the terrier had scurried away into the overgrown area at the front of the building. Perhaps it was there now.
As she made her way around the side of Shelby House another thought struck her. One she was anxious to push to the back of her mind.
Could Molly have trotted up the driveway and out onto the road?
Across the road perhaps? Was she now roaming even further afield? Or had her little adventure been cut short by the wheels of a speeding car?
Ronni hardly dared think about it.
George Errington joined her.
“I don’t know why she’s worried,” he said, peering over the top of his thick glasses.
“The bloody dog’s too well looked after to run away. It knows where it’s well off.”
“Don’t be rotten, George. Barbara’s very attached to that dog. Haven’t you ever had a pet?”
“I had a dog myself when I was a kid. Big old mongrel he was. We had to get rid of him, though. We lived next door to some old woman who kept cats.” Errington chuckled.
“My dog got in her garden one night and killed two of them.”
“What did you do?”
“My dad took him to the canal, put him in a sack and threw him in.”
Ronni looked horrified.
“We couldn’t afford vets’ bills to have him put down humanely,” Errington told her.
“I cried for two days when my dad told me what he’d done.”
“I’m not surprised. I just hope Molly hasn’t run out into the road.”
“She won’t have got that far.”
“I wish I was as confident as you, George. I’ll check the driveway.
You have a look over by the hedges.”
The two of them separated. Gravel crunched beneath Ronni’s feet as she made her way slowly along the driveway, pausing to look behind the low bushes that flanked it. She wondered if the dog might have found somewhere secluded and simply fallen asleep. After all, it had enjoyed more exercise in one afternoon than it usually did in a month. It was probably exhausted.
She could see the fresh marks in the drive made by the wheels of the glaziers’ van. They had left about half an hour ago. All the broken panes and splintered frames had been replaced.
She hoped Shelby House would not be needing their services again.
Ronni was practically to the end of the drive by now and she stood there silently for a moment, watching as several cars drove past. It wasn’t a particularly busy road, but vehicles using it were prone to speed and, once again, she tried to push the image from her mind of Molly crossing that thoroughfare.
The screech of brakes. The sickening thud.
Don’t even think about it.
She waited a moment, then turned and began trudging back down the drive towards Shelby House.
Away to her left there were sounds of movement in the bushes.
She paused, then stepped through a gap in the low hedge to investigate.
“Molly,” she called.
The sounds continued.
There was a narrow strip of grass, then more tall privet.
The sound was coming from the other side of the hedge and she looked for a way through.
“Molly,” she said again.
The privet formed an impenetrable green wall and Ronni decided the only way through was the one she had taken the previous day.
She turned the corner.
The figure loomed up at her.
Ronni almost screamed.
“Christ, George,” she said, her heart thudding against her ribs.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?”
“Sorry,” Errington muttered.
“I heard a noise on the other side of the hedge,” she told him, swallowing hard.
“That was me. You should see the state of the bloody garden around there. All overgrown.”
“I have seen it. Any sign of Molly?”
He shook his head.
“We’ll keep looking for a bit longer,” Ronni said, glancing up at the sky. Rain clouds were gathering. With them came the threat of darkness. The night was less than two hours away.
“She might have even wandered back inside while none of us were looking,” Ronni offered.
“She’s probably lying in her basket in Barbara’s room right now.”
Errington raised an eyebrow.
“All right, maybe not.” Ronni sighed.
“But let’s check anyway.” They made their way back down the drive towards Shelby House.
AT FIRST SHE thought the ringing of the alarm was part of her dream. Ronni tried to force her eyes open, but despite the fact that she’d managed barely four hours of fitful sleep, it still felt as if someone had sealed her lids with glue.
She sat up and silenced the electronic buzzing.
6.50 a.m.
Her back ached. Her neck ached. Every part of her seemed to have stiffened during the night. Doubtless due to the fact that she’d slept upright in a high-backed chair instead of crawling into bed.
She could remember sitting down in the chair, but the rest was a blur. She guessed she must have been so tired she didn’t even make it as far as the bed.
Now she heard movement behind her and Alison also stirred, shielding her eyes from the sunlight that poured in through the window.
“Oh God,” she groaned, rolling onto her stomach.
“Rise and shine,” Ronni murmured, massaging the back of her neck with one hand.
“Where did you go last night?” Alison asked, her voice still thick with sleep.
“I couldn’t sleep. I walked around. Sat in the day room for a while, then came back up here.”
“Did you sleep in the chair?”
“I must have just dropped off,” she said, stretching her arms, listening to the joints crack.
“Did anything happen during the night?” Alison said, a note of concern in her voice.
Ronni shook her head.
“Perhaps the police were right,” she murmured.
“Perhaps we’ve had the worst of it. If any damage was done I didn’t hear it. There weren’t any windows broken. I’d have heard.”
Alison swung herself out of bed and peered out of the window into the gardens that surrounded Shelby House. Some blackbirds were bouncing about on the lawn, digging in the soft earth for worms. Other than that, nothing moved.
“What about Molly?” Alison murmured.
Ronni could only shrug.
“I dread to think what Barbara’
ll be like if anything’s happened to that bloody dog,” Alison continued.
Ronni began taking clothes from the pink and white sports bag she always brought when she was on night shift.
Alison padded towards the door.
“Mind if I use the bathroom first?” she said.
Ronni shook her head and heard her colleague making her way down the corridor.
She dressed quickly, then headed downstairs. As she reached the ground floor she heard some of the residents stirring. Some had trouble sleeping at the best of times, but after the attack on Shelby House, the sense of unease she herself had felt the previous night seemed to have communicated itself to most of those who dwelt within the building.
Ronni was relieved to see that there was nothing lying on the mat below the letterbox.
No more of those letters.
She walked to the end of the corridor and looked through one of the glass door panels into the driveway.
Ronni selected a key and unlocked the main doors.
She stepped out into the porch and almost tripped over the object there.
It only took her a second to realize what it was.
The dog bowl was yellow. It looked new.
There was something in it.
Ronni could smell the coppery odour of the blood.
She swallowed hard, wondering what she should do.
Don’t touch it. It might have fingerprints on.
There were several red smudges around the rim.
She knew she couldn’t let Barbara Eustace see it.
Ronni turned and glanced back towards the main doors.
As she did, she saw the paint.
Yellow. Red. Blue.
Letters a foot high had been sprayed all over the doors and several walls.
As Ronni read them she tried to swallow, but it felt as if someone had filled her throat with chalk.
She shook her head.
She finally turned and hurried back inside, locking the doors behind her.
In the main office, she reached for the phone.
DS DAVID MARSH sipped at his coffee and glanced at the notes he’d scribbled on his pad.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Porter,” he remarked, apologetically.
“I don’t know what else to say to you.”
“You could say this won’t happen again,” Ronni snapped.
“You could tell me you’ve got some suspects in custody. You could tell me what the hell I’m supposed to say to my residents.”
“If I told you this won’t happen again I’d probably be raising your hopes. If I said we had suspects in custody I’d be lying. As for what you tell your residents, I can’t help you.”
“How about, “Don’t worry everybody, the police will protect us”?”
“We’re doing our best. I told you last time how difficult it is.”
“First the hate mail, then the attack and now this. And you say there’s nothing you can do?”
“What do you want me to do, Mrs. Porter?”
“Find the bastards who are doing this. Until you do, put a police guard on Shelby House.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why? People’s lives could be in danger here.”
“I know that, and as I also told you before I’m as frustrated as you that we’ve caught no one yet.”
They’ve killed the dog.”
“You don’t know that. You said yourself it might just have run off.”
“What has to happen before you’ll help us?”
“More than finding a dog’s bowl full of blood on your porch. And I am trying to help.”
“Then give us some protection.”
“I can’t,” he snapped.
“Look at it from my point of view. I’ve got nothing concrete to go on. Some obscene letters were pushed through the door. A few windows were broken. Graffiti’s been sprayed on a couple of walls and a dog belonging to one of your residents is missing. That hardly merits a twenty-four-hour guard. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.”
Ronni ran a hand through her hair.
“None of the fingerprints we took from the letters or the air gun pellets matched up with anything in our files,” Marsh continued.
“We haven’t got a clue who’s doing this or why. Like I said to you, it’s just a game to them.” There was a heavy silence finally broken by the policeman.
“Do any of your residents have money or valuables on the premises that you know of?” he said.
Ronni shook her head.
“Why?”
“I wondered if robbery might be the motive.”
“How would those kids know if there was money in here or not?”
“It would be a reasonable assumption.”
“What do you mean? Old people don’t trust banks, they keep their fortunes under their beds, that kind of thing?” Marsh wasn’t slow to catch the disdain in her voice.
“It doesn’t happen like that,” she snapped.
“There is one thing I could suggest,” he muttered.
“Anything.”
“You could try hiring some kind of private security firm if you want twenty-four-hour cover. I can give you some names ‘ “Forget it,” she sneered, cutting him short.
“There’s no way we could afford it. It looks like we’ll have to take our chances, doesn’t it?”
He got to his feet.
“How’s your father?” he asked.
“There’s no change. I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea who attacked him either, have you?”
He caught the edge in her voice.
“No,” said the policeman flatly.
“But we’re working on it. And we’ll carry on working on it.”
“Very reassuring.”
He moved towards the office door.
“I’ll see myself out,” he said quietly.
The DS almost collided with Alison Dean as he stepped out of the office. They exchanged brief smiles and he left.
“What did he say?” Alison wanted to know.
“Nothing worth hearing,” Ronni snapped.
“They can’t give us protection.”
“Do they think the same people are responsible for the letters and the attacks?”
“They don’t know.”
“I told the residents about the graffiti, like you said,” Alison informed her.
“I didn’t mention the dog’s bowl.”
“Thanks. I suppose we’d better see about cleaning that paint off the walls.”
Alison ran a hand through her hair.
“Ronni, it’s probably the wrong time to say this,” she said falteringly.
“But I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
“Join the club.”
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t think I can stay. I was thinking of leaving.”
Ronni met her gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“If that’s what you want, Alison,” she said wearily.
“I’m scared, Ronni. I don’t mind admitting it. Especially after what happened the other night and now this business with the graffiti and the blood and ‘ “When do you want to leave?” Ronni snapped.
“Today? Tomorrow? You don’t have to work your notice if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Look, I don’t want to walk out on you while things are like this, what
with your father and that, but ‘
“If you want to go, then go. And this has got nothing to do with my father.”
“I just said I’d been thinking about it. You’d still have Gordon to help look after the residents.”
“I won’t stand in your way, Alison. But don’t take too long deciding, will you?”
She got to her feet and headed for the office door.
“I’ve got things to do,” Ronni continued.
“We can’t all run away, can we?”
And she was gone.
MOST OF THE paint came off with some hot water and a little turps.
; Colin Glazer, Donald Tanner and Harry Holland did their best to help.
By two in the afternoon, the walls were virtually pristine again.
Alison Dean stayed inside for most of the day. Ronni was grateful for that.
The other residents performed one more search of the grounds in their bid to find Molly, but Barbara Eustace’s dog remained missing.
As the afternoon drew on, the tension inside Shelby House grew almost palpably.
By the time the residents had eaten their dinner and the sky was bruised with purple clouds, Ronni was aware of a feeling akin to collective dread spreading through the building like a virus.
When night finally coloured the sky, there was a nervous silence throughout Shelby House that she had never experienced before.
She moved from room to room drawing curtains, pausing each time to peer out into the blackness, not really knowing what she expected to see, but fearful all the same.
The residents were gathered in the day room watching the diet of nightly soaps that usually occupied them from seven to nine. But Ronni noticed that they were gazing at the screen with apparently little regard for what happened before them.
Minds elsewhere?
She could understand that.
Alison remained with them in the room and, again, Ronni was grateful. She herself retreated to the office upstairs and sat with a cup of coffee while she filled in the paperwork that needed doing. She may as well have been doing a crossword blindfold.
Mind elsewhere?
She crossed to the window and looked out.
Nothing moving.
Perhaps it was too early.
Perhaps they didn’t come until the small hours when everyone was sleeping.
Or would it be different tonight?
She moved back to the desk and tried to continue with her work.
The knock on the door gave her an excuse to stop the pretence.
“Come in,” she called and turned to see Janice Holland standing there.
She was smiling as usual.
“Sorry to disturb you, love,” she said.
“Please do disturb me, Janice.” Ronni grinned, offering the older woman a chair.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing anyone can do anything about. We all know you’re trying to help and we appreciate it. Whoever’s been doing these things are evil. I was always brought up to respect other people’s feelings. I don’t think that’s so important to people anymore, is it?”