Ugh. I hated parking at the bottom of Caernarvon Road, but all the spaces at the top were already taken. I walked as quickly as I could up the steep hill, my hood shoved up over my head. My face had been all over the news all day, and I didn’t fancy being stopped and questioned by strangers on the street.
I went to unlock the front door, then froze. I only had to turn the key a fraction to the left, and the door opened. That meant only one thing; it was already unlocked. I was rooted to the spot as I thought back over the morning. I’d been anxious about the looming press conference and had been extra cautious, fretful that haters were going to be rioting outside the house afterwards with pitchforks. Without a doubt, I had locked that door. In fact, I was pretty sure I remembered checking it twice before I actually got in the car and left.
Adrenaline flooded through me — who was in there? Possibilities swirled in my mind. Was it somebody demanding a ransom for Teigan’s safe return? Someone who wanted to see my pain up close as they revealed Teigan’s fate to me? Then another, more hopeful thought crossed my mind. Maybe she was alive in there? Maybe whoever had taken her had seen my plea at the press conference and had felt compelled to return her to me? Was it possible that Teigan had just been punishing me after all, and she had seen the press conference, realised she’d gone too far and returned off her own accord? My hands hovered on the door handle. Whatever the outcome was, I had to find out.
I scanned the patio for something I could use as a weapon if necessary. The food bin wouldn’t work, as it was too light. There was the old plant pot, with a half-dead white geranium in it. Just as I went to pull the soil bed out, I noticed a loose brick on the corner of the patio. I had been meaning to fix it for ages. I gave it a few tugs, back and forth, and it fell into my hand. That would do.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, trying to make my voice sound as strong as possible.
I heard a creak upstairs, and an image of Teigan with a knife pressed to her throat shot into my mind. My heartbeat was thumping in my ears, my whole body pulsing with adrenaline. I realised I should have called the police before I entered, but it was too late now. I was on my own.
I moved through the lounge and into the middle room, my eyes frantically searching my surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, yet. Then, I heard a distinct thud from directly above my head. The panic lurched inside of me, and my motherly instinct kicked in. I bolted up the stairs, still gripping the brick in my right hand. As I reached the top, my natural reaction was to turn left into Teigan’s room. I charged in, raising the brick high ready to slam it down on the intruder’s head.
It was empty.
“Teig?” I whispered, wondering if it were possible that she was hiding in her wardrobe from whomever had accompanied her here. The hairs on my arms rose up as I felt the presence of someone else behind me. I spun around to a figure standing in the doorway of my own bedroom. No way.
“What are you doing here?”