The New Girlfriend - Sheryl Browne Page 0,98

lights were all off, that Jemma’s car had gone from the drive. In which case, where was she? Was Kim with her? Had they realised that he and Cassie had found out that Samuel and Liam were one and the same and run?

Cursing the time they’d wasted after being stopped by the police, Adam turned back to the cottage. There were lights on here, which must mean that Kim had been here this evening. The conservatory lights were also on, judging by the glow he could see over the back gate. Was she in there, listening to music with her earphones on maybe?

There were no lights on upstairs. He scanned the windows again. Where in God’s name was she? More worryingly, where was Cassie?

He went to the lounge window, glad that he’d put off the job of replacing it. It took no more than a few shoves before the ancient sash gave. Praying he hadn’t alerted the neighbours, he hitched himself up and climbed inside. Ryan was close behind him, as desperate as he was. After Adam had told him about Kim and what she’d done, he guessed that finding the child he considered to be his son was Ryan’s priority. He felt like a thief, but this was an emergency. How much of an emergency he wasn’t sure, but the sick feeling churning his gut told him something was very wrong.

‘Kim?’ he called, attempting to keep his tone calm. Despite the anger that had possessed him when he’d realised she’d faked her pregnancy, he didn’t want to scare her. He needed to know what the hell had been going through her mind, what her end game had been, apart from to milk the situation for all she could get, destroying what was left of his family in the process. He badly wanted to understand what she’d hoped to achieve in the long term, but that could wait. Right now, he needed to find her – and fast.

Going through to the dining room while Ryan checked upstairs, he ground to a halt. Christ. Fear slicing through him, he took in the scene before him: ornaments swept from the shelf, the mirror smashed, jagged pieces of glass all over the floor. His gaze shot to the conservatory, where the lights were blazing. Striding across to the French doors, he tried them. ‘Locked,’ he said to Ryan, who’d appeared behind him. ‘Anything upstairs?’

‘Nothing,’ Ryan said. ‘Apart from a whole bunch of photographs of Josh on one of the bedroom walls. Weird photos, not personal, you know? Some of you and your wife too.’

Fuck. Adam raced to the kitchen. The back door was open. What the hell had gone on here? He ventured onto the patio, dreading what he might find out there.

Something crunched under his foot as he stepped out. He bent to retrieve it. A shard of glass. Apprehension knotted his stomach as he pressed two fingers to the dark stain underneath it. It was thin and watery after the rain, but it was definitely blood, stark against the pale grey of the patio slabs. Whose?

‘They’ve gone!’ someone shouted across the garden as Ryan joined him, his phone torch picking out other random splatters of crimson. Ryan shone the beam in the direction of the voice. The old woman next door, Adam realised.

‘Came right across my garden without so much as a by-your-leave,’ the woman went on indignantly. ‘Arguing, they were. I could hear it through the walls as plain as day.’

‘Who?’ Adam stepped forward. ‘When?’

‘I’m not sure. Three quarters of an hour… an hour ago. I can’t be certain who the other woman was – my eyesight’s not what it was, you know – but one of them was definitely her who lives here. Nothing but trouble, that one, I can tell you that for nothing. I knew it as soon as she moved in.’

He should have listened more closely to the damn neighbourhood gossip, Adam thought agitatedly. He turned to Ryan. ‘When you went home, did you check the house thoroughly?’

‘I… No,’ Ryan said, his expression apprehensive. ‘I checked downstairs. I called out, but… The car wasn’t there. I’d already rung her a few times by then. I thought—’

‘The pushchair? Was that there?’

‘No. I don’t know. Jemma puts it in the utility when it’s raining. I didn’t check. We’d argued. I thought she might have left. Gone to stay with her mother for a few days possibly, although…’ he paused, his look now one of consternation, ‘that’s not very

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