Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

a weird sense of detachment as Saul’s hand opened like a starfish, his knife tumbling to the floor with a clatter before he too sank to the ground like a punctured inflatable toy.

Gwen blinked several times in succession as the space opened up behind Saul, revealing a man who, following Saul to the floor, sat astride him and continued driving his small knife into his chest over and over. After what seemed like hours, although possibly only seconds, the man stopped his frenzied attack, threw his knife down, then scraped his sweaty hair from his face with blood-soaked fingers.

Panting heavily, his empty eyes locked onto Gwen’s but remained silent.

Forty Seven

THE NIGHT HAD BEEN THE LONGEST OF JONAH’S LIFE. He stared out of the window, past the large patio area, complete with a brick built BBQ and bar. His eyes moved past the canopied hot tub and out towards the first of three good-sized ponds, which for reasons unknown to him, he’d forked out a small fortune stocking with top grade Koi Carp last year. He didn’t know why he’d bothered. What did any of his material possessions matter now everything he’d deemed important had been deleted? He also didn’t know why he was expending any brain power thinking about it. Nothing could be done to change what had happened. But it was better than thinking about everything else.

Inhaling deeply, he focused on the cup of tea someone had brought in for him some time ago. He couldn’t remember who, but it must have been Nero because there was no one else left.

Closing his eyes, Jonah concentrated on breathing. Everyone and everything was gone, leaving his life and everything it stood for as a pile of rubble. He hadn’t left this room, the one he used as his home office, since he’d been shepherded along the back hallway and steered into here by Nero last night.

He didn’t know how long Nero had stayed with him. He didn’t know what had been said. In fact, he could remember very little of what had happened following the nightmare which had unfolded last night. He remembered every single last vivid detail of that.

He vaguely remembered hearing things further back in the house as he’d sat unmoving and mute in the leather desk chair. Motors coming and going. Doors slamming. Muffled voices...

He didn’t know what had been going on and didn’t care because it seemed he hadn’t known what had been going on in any facet of his life for a very long time.

Jonah picked up his mug of tea and raised it to his lips. It was stone cold. Like him.

He wanted a drink. A proper drink. Not tea. If only he could summon the energy he’d fetch the bottle of whisky from the cabinet, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to summon any energy ever again.

Pulling his eyes away from the tempting bottles of alcohol, they instead fell on a framed photograph on his desk. He didn’t mean to look at it – didn’t want to look at it, but his eyes focused on it regardless. A lone tear rolled down his unshaven cheek at the image of his father in the filigreed silver frame. He wasn’t going to be a father anymore.

He’d almost choked on the spot seeing Lena posed in the grotesque position Saul had meticulously arranged, blood pooling underneath. He’d fallen down a bottomless lift shaft with the unavoidable knowledge that his child, along with Lena, was dead. But he’d been mourning the loss of a child that had never existed. Lena had played him all along and he’d fallen for it. Stupid, stupid bastard that he was.

How he hated her. He hated her more that he’d ever hated anyone.

Angrily wiping his face with his sleeve, Jonah focused instead on the dried stains over his once pristine white shirt.

Saul’s blood. His brother’s blood. The blood of the brother Robert Adams had killed.

NERO WAS EXHAUSTED, but there was still a lot more to do. This next part would be by far the hardest and a whole different kettle of fish compared to arranging for bodies to be removed and disposed of. His body ached for sleep but that was a long way off.

Nero glanced around the large square entrance hall of Jonah’s house once again, doing a final double check. Even the damaged curtain had been replaced. He nodded to himself in approval. The boys had done a good job. Everything was looking back to normal now. On the outside, at least.

Once the last of the men had left just under half an hour ago, he’d initially been relieved to have a break from the noise and bustle the clean-up operation had caused, but now the silence weighed heavily. The stillness only accentuating what had to happen now.

Taking a deep breath, Nero moved down into the narrower part of the hallway that spanned the length of the big house, keeping an ear open for any noise or movement from upstairs. It was still quiet.

He glanced at his watch. Coming up to 7.30am.

Moving into the back hallway, Nero tapped on the office door, waiting a couple of seconds before entering.

Walking into the room, Nero frowned when Jonah didn’t turn around or acknowledge his presence. Jonah was in exactly the same position as he’d been the last time he’d seen him. He’d half hoped the man may have got some sleep, even if for only half an hour, but he should have known better. He knew Jonah too well and it was unlikely that he’d sleep for a very long time, if ever.

Moving straight to the cabinet, he poured two large whiskies. He needed one and guessed it wouldn’t hurt Jonah either.

Pulling up a chair opposite, Nero sat down, placing the whiskies on the desk and looked at his boss, his usually sharp blue eyes dull and bloodshot. ‘Everything’s done.’ His voice was unnaturally loud in the silence. He wouldn’t