Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

Teagan’s mind fluttered, the fingers tracing over her skin like hot needles. She was so thirsty, so, so thirsty, but her head hurt too much to speak. She couldn’t remember how to speak. She just needed... needed...

Feeling fingers push inside her, Teagan yelped, still unable to warrant the energy to open her eyes. Who was she with? Where was she?

Her temples pounded, her stomach crunching again as another cramp gained pace. Hearing the sound of a zip being undone, Teagan rolled into a lucid moment. This was that man. The man who’d...

Bucking away from the exploring hands, Teagan gasped for breath, panic forcing her one working eye open, the sudden blinding illumination of the overhead light scorching her retina. ‘No please...’ she croaked, fresh waves of pain crashing over her.

‘Need some medicine, girl?’ Saul growled, pumping his hand down his rock hard erection. Pulling Teagan’s head back by her hair with his other hand, he smiled. ‘You’ll get some as soon as you’ve made me feel better. We do things for each other, sweetheart, remember? Now open wide.’

Teagan gagged as Saul shoved himself deep into her mouth, her nerve endings crying out in agony from the combined movement of her gag reflex.

‘Now, no biting,’ Saul warned. ‘Or you’ll get nothing!’

Tears rolled down Teagan’s face but she wasn’t sure why she was crying. She couldn’t remember. What was wrong with her? Nothing made sense.

Suddenly feeling the cold rush as the medicine she so desperately craved flooded into her veins, she relaxed. She was no longer thirsty and even whatever was pushing against the back of her throat didn’t bother her anymore.

Twenty Nine

WALKING INTO HIS MOTHER’S BEDROOM, Robert realised it appeared like nothing had been touched. The matching silver comb, hairbrush and hand-held mirror were placed neatly on the dressing table, along with elegant bottles of perfume and a few bits of makeup; a can of hairspray and a large fluffy powder puff sitting on the top of a glass jar. His mother’s dressing gown hung on the back of the wardrobe door and all the things that had been here since he could remember were still in place. It was like the room that time forgot.

Although she’d brought a good amount of things with her to his flat, it was difficult to see what, looking at the contents left in this room.

He stared at the thickly carpeted floor and confusion spread. Teagan said the box was hidden underneath the floorboards. How could something be kept under the floorboards if the room was carpeted?

Wait! The pink bedroom. Even his mother had mentioned that was where she’d seen Teagan snooping around.

Rushing from the room, Robert made his way along the landing and stood outside the room where Helen was shot; the room which had been thoroughly turned over and the truth rapidly dawned.

The people that had shot Helen hadn’t been something to do with her – they’d been looking for the diamonds! Someone had come to Footlights that night to retrieve those jewels?

Even if he hadn’t been so completely lost in his thoughts, there were too many thick walls between the pink bedroom and the kitchen to hear Teagan’s phone ringing in the pocket of his jacket on the kitchen table and the back of Robert’s neck became clammy with sweat as he pushed open the bedroom door. His mother had said Helen had found out about Michael Pointer, so was it possible that she also knew about the diamonds? Had it been her who had turned over the room in search of them?

But if it was Helen who had been after them, then who was the man? Someone Helen had told about the diamonds killed her when he couldn’t find them? Which?

Sweat now beaded over Robert’s forehead as 1001 possible scenarios ran through his brain. His eyes skirted around the floor. It was floorboarded. He peered at the varnished Victorian boards, unable to see an area which looked like it might lift up.

His mind tracked back to when he’d cleaned the bedroom after the police had finished their investigations. After scrubbing the bloodstains away and removing the splatters off the walls, it had taken hours putting the clothes and scattered items back in the wardrobe and drawers. Placing the rug back along the side of the bed...

The rug...

Darting around to the far side of the bed, Robert got down on his hands and knees and rolled the rug up to one end. He stared at the floorboards, feverishly looking for any trace that one of them may lift.

There it was. A slight indentation along the edge of a board. Twisting around, he glanced at the dressing table for something to prise at the floorboard. Remembering the Swiss Army knife he always kept in his pocket, Robert pulled out the largest blade and slotted it into the crack with the slightly bigger gap than the others. Heart racing, he applied pressure.

It was only then he noticed the nails in this particular board were missing. Using the blade as leverage, he pressed on the back of the floorboard and it raised up with surprisingly minimal effort.

Remaining motionless with the floorboard hinged like the lid of a tin, Robert questioned what he was expecting to find? In his mother’s eyes, the most important things to keep safe all of these years were in that little wooden box, which was in his flat. There was no logical reason why he was hell bent on looking in here. All he knew was that he was drawn to it. A really strong hunch.

Fully bracing himself to find an empty space, Robert lifted the board out of position and peered into the hole. It was a lot deeper than he’d expected and looked pretty much as he’d expected. Empty.

Or was that something at the bottom?

Reaching across for the bedside lamp, he turned it on its side and aimed