The Silence. Joss Stirling

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       Prologue

       Jonah, Present Day

      Jonah never thought he had it in him to kill a woman, but he was wrong. She was lying at his feet.

      He had to make the call. Grabbing the receiver on the old landline phone, he dialled in the number. It took so long for the dial to turn back. 9 click-click-click, 9 click-click-click, 9 click-click-click.

      ‘Which service do you require?’

      ‘Ambulance – police – both.’ Her scream still drilled in his ear even though she was silent. He’d only thought to shut her up. ‘I think I’ve hurt someone.’

      There was a microscopic pause before training kicked in. ‘Address, please?’

      His mind went blank. Despite living here for two years, he couldn’t remember the postcode. ‘Gallant House. Blackheath. Off the Hare and Billet Road. Postcode? Can’t think …’ He scrabbled among the papers on the console table, shaking petals from the arrangement of lilacs, until he found a letter and was able to read it off.

      ‘And your name?’

      He was in so much trouble. ‘Jonah Brigson. But don’t waste time! I need someone here right now!’

      ‘I’ve already dispatched an ambulance, Jonah. Please try to stay calm. I’m going to ask you about the casualty. Are they breathing?’

      ‘I don’t know – can’t see from here.’ She was lying on the cold tiles, a little on her side, one arm across her stomach, the other out as if reaching for something.

      ‘Can you keep on the line and check at the same time?’

      ‘Yes.’ The landlady’s reluctance to update anything in the house resulted in the phone base and vase of lilacs crashing to the floor as Jonah dragged the attached receiver with him. Water chased him over the tiles. He touched the slim throat his fingers had squeezed.

      ‘Are you still with me, Jonah?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Are they breathing?’

      ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know.’