Close to the Bone. Stuart MacBride

Чтение книги онлайн.

       10

      Logan stopped at the foot of the stairs.

      The voices coming from the lounge were muffled by the closed door, but it was easy enough to hear Agnes’s mum and dad arguing about whose fault it was that she’d run away. An eighteen-year-old girl whose mother poked her nose into everything, who wouldn’t let her have friends over, who went through her things every time she was out. No wonder she’d legged it the first chance she got.

      There was a cupboard under the stairs, the door a blank slab of white. It’d been fitted with a bolt on the outside, held shut with a brass padlock. The kind that had tumblers instead of a key. He squinted at the architrave, the words ‘AGNES’S ROOM’ were just visible – scratched into the wood, then rendered almost invisible by layer upon layer of gloss paint.

      He gave the padlock a tug. Solid enough. But the trouble with these tumbler locks, especially the cheaper makes, was how easily you could crack the combination by levering the dials apart while you turned them, feeling for the click… There. Then the next one… Two more to go, and the hasp popped free of the lock.

      Chalmers stared at him. ‘How did you do that?’

      ‘Gets easier when they’re used a lot. Loosens everything up.’ Logan drew the bolt, and swung the door open.

      Inside, the little cupboard had been turned into a little room. A single mattress filled the available floor space, no sheets, just a sleeping bag and two stuffed toys: a teddy bear that looked as if one more go in the washing machine would finish it off, and a once-white rabbit turned Frankenstein’s monster with random-coloured patches and big clumsy stitching.

      A bookshelf sat at the tall end of the wedge-shaped cupboard, with more paperbacks, and plastic action figures: wizards, witches, and vampires. Half a dozen grey and black roses were long dead in a vase, tied up with a black ribbon. Very cheery.

      He beckoned Chalmers over. ‘This look more like it?’

      She climbed inside, kneeling on the mattress as she poked through the books on the shelf. ‘Harry Potter’s got a lot to answer for.’

      ‘She’s eighteen.’

      ‘Yeah…’ Chalmers pulled a hardback from the collection and frowned at it. ‘She’s got this same book upstairs.’ The front cover was some sort of dragon thing curled around a woman dressed like a gypsy. Chalmers opened it. Raised an eyebrow. Then turned it so the innards were facing Logan. ‘Interesting.’

      The book had been hollowed out. She pulled out a spiral-bound notebook, flicked through a few pages. ‘Oh dear…’

      ‘What?’

      ‘“Rowan looked at him lovingly. ‘I’m really glad you bit me Edward,’ she said enthusiastically, ‘this way we can be together forever when we get to magic school!’ He smiled at her knowingly, and thought about how much he loved her, because she was perfect. ‘I know,’ he said romantically, his eyes smouldering like a million suns falling into a million black holes, ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather battle the Dark Lord of the Werewolves with than you! You’re so much cleverer than that little swot Hermione.’ And she knew he meant it, because she was the only one who could make his cold dead heart beat again…”’ Chalmers turned the next couple of pages, pursed her lips. ‘Oh, look at that. Then they have sex on the carriage floor while Harry watches and plays with his wand. Then he sticks it up Edward’s…’ She shuddered, put the thing back in the book and slammed it shut. ‘God, I hate slashfic.’

      ‘Slashfic?’

      ‘Think really bad fan fiction, only you have everyone shagging each other. It’s kind of…’ She looked over Logan’s shoulder. ‘Mrs Garfield, did Agnes spend a lot of time in here?’

      Agnes’s mum was standing by the open living-room door, arms folded across her chest. ‘We keep that cupboard locked.’

      ‘So СКАЧАТЬ