62

If Geraldine’s grip on the torch hadn’t tightened with an involuntary movement of her hand, she might have dropped it in shock when the dog leaped at her. The beam of light quivered in her grasp as she shone it around. The dog was on the floor of the cellar. Slavering and straining to get at her, she saw that it was tethered by a chain that rattled as it struggled. Whichever way the massive body twisted, it couldn’t break free. She hardly dared move, but her legs were trembling too violently for her to stay on her feet. Slowly she sat down. As long as the dog remained tied up, she was safe. If the chain snapped, she would be torn to pieces by its powerful jaws.

Below her in the shadows the dog began to whine. As calmly as she could, Geraldine weighed up her options. She had to decide what to do if the chain broke. If she remained seated it might be more difficult for the dog to barge into her and knock her down the stairs. On the other hand, sitting down would make it more difficult for her to beat off the animal if it attacked her. Torch in one hand and cosh in the other, she stood up and leaned against the rail, watching and waiting, while below her the chain rattled and the dog snarled. Every time the animal made a lunge for the bottom of the stairs, the chain around its neck pulled against its throat until it choked, forcing it to fall back again. It tried several times before it subsided, growling angrily, and at last fell silent.

Sitting very still, Geraldine heard faint grunting and slurping. Very quietly, she shifted over to the edge of the stairs and looked down to see the dog lying on its stomach, gnawing at the bone. She slid sideways until she was leaning against the wall. It felt as though she had been locked in there for days, although in fact it was only half an hour. She tried to block out the stench, telling herself her colleagues would soon come and rescue her, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening. Not only was the edge of the narrow step digging into her backside, but she couldn’t forget about the dog. Even when the animal was quiet, she could smell it. Now that she no longer felt under immediate threat, she began to wonder how long the animal had been imprisoned there. Even if it had savaged a woman to death, the dog could hardly be held responsible for what had happened. Whoever had chained the dog down there had thrown a woman down the stairs, and she had every reason to suspect it was the same man who had tried to push her down the stairs too. He had murdered one woman that she knew about, possibly more, and had done his best to kill her too. And she was the only person who knew he was guilty.

Unable to remain patient any longer, she turned and hammered against the trap door with her cosh, yelling as loudly as she could. Below her in the darkness, the dog began to bark so ferociously she almost missed another sound that reached her very faintly. Something was scraping and banging above her head.

‘I’m here!’ she shouted as loudly as she could. ‘I’m in here! The door’s locked and I can’t get out! Help!’

Below her the dog resumed its deep throated barking. If it succeeded in breaking free of its chain, she would be dog meat by the time she was found.

Above her she thought she heard someone calling.

‘Hurry!’ she shouted, as loudly as she could, ‘I’m down here with a vicious dog and it might break free at any moment. Let me out! Help! Let me out!’

There was a rattling sound, and the trap door shuddered. A few seconds later it flew open and a familiar voice called out.

‘Geraldine? Is that you?’

‘Ian!’ she shouted, fighting a sudden urge to cry. ‘Ian! Thank God! Get me out of here!’

A large hand reached down to her as she stuffed her cosh and phone back in her bag. She grabbed Ian’s wrist and scrambled up out of the dark cellar.

‘Jesus!’ he said, ‘what a stink! What the hell have you been eating?’

Geraldine sank into a chair and leaned back, closing her eyes. She sat for a moment, shivering, and filled her lungs with relatively fresh air. When she opened her eyes, she gave Ian a weak smile. Catching sight of the open trap door, she waved one hand at it, and shuddered.

‘Close the trap door for Christ’s sake. Shut out that damn smell.’

‘What’s he got down there? Rotting bodies?’ Ian asked as he shut the door with a clunk.

She shook her head, closing her eyes again. ‘It’s not dead, not yet.’

‘What are you talking about? What’s not dead?’

‘The dog in the cellar.’

Ian’s confusion seemed to clear. ‘Sorry,’ he blurted out. ‘I was so preoccupied with worrying about you, I forgot about everything else…’ he faltered, flustered. ‘So there is a dog down there?’

She nodded. ‘We can’t just leave the poor beast where it is, but I’m not going anywhere near it. And nor are you,’ she added.

‘We don’t need to. A dog handler’s on his way. He should be here soon.’

‘Thank goodness.’

‘You don’t seem very keen on dealing with this dog?’

‘Dog? It’s a vicious monster. Ian, it would have ripped me to pieces if it hadn’t been chained up. It’s not safe to go near it.’

‘OK, don’t worry. We’ll leave it to the dangerous dog handler.’

‘I think it’s the one that killed Charlotte…’ Geraldine flinched. ‘But it’s not the dog’s fault, is it?’ She started to her feet. ‘Where’s the man who lives here? Where’s he gone? We need to find him –’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ian interrupted her. ‘He’ll be at Fulford Road by now. Tell you what,’ he added, taking a step back as Geraldine came towards him, ‘why don’t you pop home and I’ll meet you at the police station in an hour and we can get going questioning him. In the meantime, I’ll wait here for the dog handler, and you can go home and clean up.’

‘Do I smell that bad?’

Ian didn’t answer.

‘I’ll be off then,’ she said.

Her legs and back ached as she left the house, and she felt momentarily almost too tired to walk away, but the fresh air of the street soon revitalised her. She drove home in a daze, and it wasn’t until she undressed for the shower that she realised how badly bruised her legs were, black and yellow where she had hit them on the stairs. The shower was glorious, and by the time she had dressed in clean clothes, she felt a lot better. Eileen had told her to take the rest of the day off and then see how she felt, but Geraldine decided to go straight back to the police station. There was nothing to be gained from hanging around at home, and she didn’t want to miss the conclusion of the investigation that had been occupying all her waking thoughts for more than five weeks.

And she wanted to face the man who had tried to kill her in the most horrible way imaginable, by having her physically ripped apart by a dumb animal.