Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

missed calls, texts or voicemails, so why did he have the growing suspicion that Teagan’s disappearance was linked to them?

He’d been up all night talking himself into the disappearance being coincidence - just happening to occur after he’d given out the info about her having a box belonging to Dulcie Adams. Dulcie Adams – the name of that woman made him cringe. Was she set to haunt him for evermore?

Yes, he’d tried his very best to talk himself out of a connection, but it hadn’t worked. No matter how many different slants he put on it, he kept coming back in a circle, the nigging suspicion of a link morphing into a clanging alarm.

The fundamental problem was, amongst everything else he’d done that he wasn’t particularly comfortable with and although Teagan was a pain in the arse and a month ago he’d have been pleased if she’d disappeared off the face of the planet, since Alan’s death and since, well... everything, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. But whichever way he looked at it, he couldn’t shift the horrible thought that something had happened to her and that he was partly responsible for it.

And he didn’t know what to do about that.

Joe scowled. There was only one thing to do about it, but it he didn’t want to get involved. He wanted it all to be over, full stop. That was the plan in the first place, was it not? The whole point of ditching Teagan was to get his life back, but since he’d done that, his life had literally become hideous.

Sighing resignedly, he too got up, knowing what he was going to have to do. But he was having a couple of drinks first.

ANOTHER NIGHT WITH LITTLE SLEEP left Robert both exhausted and irritable. He stood outside Footlights and stared up at the imposing property. Did he really want to go in here again?

No, he didn’t, but he didn’t want to stay in the flat either. Something was really not sitting well about all of this. His mother’s revelation last night had done nothing to assuage his fears. As much as he struggled with the stark contrast of how much his opinion of her had changed in the last couple of days, nothing was much worse than realising every new thing coming to light only gave more reason to distrust every single thing that came out of her mouth.

No matter how many different ways he slotted the pieces together, stuff did not fit together at all.

Robert stared at the lit cigarette in his hand, his mind quickly returning to what his mother had in her possession. Those diamonds.

He frowned. She had not been overly forthcoming when it came to explaining why she had them, where they had come from and why his father had given them to her. Was it to do with any of those ‘big jobs’ she’d referred to in that notebook?

He felt quite sick. The diamonds were stolen, but from where?

Resentment grew. His mother was hiding something big. This theory would also explain why she didn’t want the police involved. After keeping the identity of his real father a secret for so long, she still wasn’t being straight. Pinning it on Teagan made things even less palatable.

Robert pulled Teagan’s phone from his jacket and sighed. No missed calls. Two days and still no word.

Letting himself into Footlights, Robert walked into the sitting room and looked around, not wanting to remain in this house any longer than necessary.

Grabbing the wastepaper basket, Robert carried it towards the kitchen to empty it, when he stopped dead.

That night... that night he’d discovered about Michael Pointer, was the night Teagan had mentioned the box; he remembered now. But she’d said something else...

Dumping the bin in the corner, Robert ripped off his jacket and slung it on the kitchen table.

Thundering up the staircase, his mind raced. Teagan said his mother kept the box under the floorboards in the bedroom. Had she put anything else there? Something that might still be there?

TEAGAN FELT DREADFUL. She retched violently into a bucket at the side of the bed, her head pounding. She desperately needed a drink, her mouth parched. Racked with pain, she was unable to stop her body from shaking, the continuous trembling making the bleeding sores on her chafed wrists weep.

Her mind rolled through a constant state of mist, blurred with red hot pain and confusion, her thoughts looping, unable to separate what was reality and what was not; shadows and shapes looming menacingly behind her closed eyelids.

Hearing what she thought could be movement, she stiffened, before realising she had probably imagined it. Was she imagining everything? Where had her life gone? What had it been like before? She had no recollection.

‘You awake? It’s the afternoon already.’

The deep growling voice made Teagan wince. She recognised that voice. She’d heard it several times. It might have been twice, three times, four, ten? She had no means of knowing how long she’d been lying here listening to that voice and her mind rolled again, the process of thinking causing physical pain.

Saul sat on the end of the bed, staring contemptuously at the half-full bucket, along with dried piles of vomit on the carpet which had clearly missed its intended target. He watched with satisfaction as the girl brought her knees up to her chest, her face contorting with pain. She was progressing nicely.

Keeping levels topped up for a couple of days, then cutting the supply off usually gave a good indication as to what extent the body had attached itself and how susceptible a person was. Something else he’d learnt spending time at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. From what he was seeing, this one had already become nicely attached.

Waiting until the girl’s cramps passed, Saul ran his thick fingers between her breasts and down along her stomach. Playing games were so much easier when he didn’t have to mess about with clothes. She didn’t need them and was so