He pushed down on the handle of the backdoor; it was locked. That would make things harder, but not impossible. Through the glass he could see a key in the door and the shadows of a house in darkness. A light blinked on the cooker, illuminating a digital clock; 12am.
The neighbouring houses were silent, everything peaceful. No cars could be heard on the road running through the estate and no footsteps on the surrounding maze of footpaths. The broad, darkly dressed figure stood alone in the moonlight as he put his elbow to a pane of glass and pushed. It gave way easily, and if anyone had heard they didn't come. He was in.
He moved into the kitchen and through the hallway, heading straight for the stairs. He wasn't interested in anything else; he had one destination, one purpose. In the first bedroom he found her sleeping, blissfully unaware of his presence, her eyes flickering over a dream. He crouched down by the side of her bed, watching, waiting, the anger boiling up inside. She was going to pay for what she had done.
YOU ARE READING
Poker Face
General FictionSixteen year old Ruby Palmer is about to walk into the most dangerous and frightening job imaginable - trainee office junior. Ruby's inability to type and her very bad attitude keep her moving around the firm until she eventually finds herself unde...
