The Stranger by Mark Ayre (books you need to read TXT) 📗

this time to wheedle information from Eddie on Francis and Danny's relationship, sure as she was that any danger Eddie faced likely came from this entanglement.

Still shaken following a night of nightmares which had ended only when she woke with a start and rushed across the room to destroy the cot, only stopping herself at the last second, Abbie could not find the strength to speak, and they arrived having said not a word to each other.

The hotel was a small independent that would likely be described as offering bags of charm. This was not an unfair assessment, even if it was a phrase that made Abbie want to puke.

They entered the lobby and passed the empty reception desk. Last night, Glenda had explained she worked sixteen-hour days and employed only one member of staff. It was impossible to operate the receptionist desk at all hours, so she gave her mobile number out freely and had installed a bell on the desk. Knowing where they were going, Abbie and Eddie head straight upstairs.

There were only five bedrooms in the hotel, one of which belonged to Glenda. Of the other four, Abbie's was the smallest and the one positioned furthest from the stairs on the first floor. Abbie knew this only because Eddie led the way. After checking in with Glenda and explaining that Danny would be using her room (a suspicious request that Glenda had accepted with a surprising amount of grace and lack of questions), Abbie had waited by the car for Eddie to return.

Eddie had also kept the key. Reaching the door, he paused once he had slid it into the lock.

"Maybe you should wait outside."

He didn't mean it. The nerves were evident on his face. He worried how his brother might act in the cold light of day. Afraid another fight might ensue.

Rather than responding, Abbie stepped back. Let him read into that what he would. After a spot of hesitation, Eddie nodded, turned the key in the lock, and pushed it open. As soon as he had stepped across the threshold, Abbie followed.

The door opened onto a short corridor created by the en-suite on the right and built-in wardrobe on the left. Beyond these, Abbie could see a desk on the left-hand wall upon which sat a telly. Presumably to hang his coat, Danny had pulled the desk chair a little way back from the desk. In the intervening hours, the jacket had fallen to the floor and now pooled in a bunch around the chair's back legs. The en-suite blocked all but the bottom end of the bed from sight. There was a window at the end of the room Abbie could see. The curtains were drawn.

The room was silent. Either Danny was immobile and didn't snore, or he had gone out. If he had left for the morning, he had done so without opening the curtains. Unsurprising. He had also gone without his jacket. More surprising, given the temperature outside.

Eddie had moved to the edge of the en-suite wall. Abbie stepped into the room, lowered her foot, then stopped and pulled it back. She looked at the mark on the carpet where she had almost placed her foot. Reaching out a hand, she grabbed Eddie's arm.

"Hang on a minute."

But he whipped his arm away ("I told you to wait outside") and stepped further into the room, passing the en-suite and turning to look upon the bed.

"He's not here," Eddie said. "He promised me. Shit."

Abbie passed the first mark and noticed another near the coat on the floor. A third and fourth by the far wall near the baseboard of the bed. There was also the hint of something poking out beyond the bed's end, on that far side.

"Eddie," Abbie said, her voice calm. "Maybe we should step outside a moment."

Ignoring her, Eddie continued into the room. Abbie passed the en-suite and looked at the bed. Still made. Though the duvet was a little ruffled on one side where someone had, at least briefly, lay down.

Eddie had reached the window. He threw open the curtains and turned to his right. He looked down into the small space between the exterior wall and the bed. As he did, Abbie went to the desk, grabbed Danny's jacket, and pulled out the desk chair.

Eddie made a small, strangled sound, and his legs buckled. Having pulled back the chair, Abbie was already moving. She slid an arm around Eddie's back, catching him before he fell.

"No," he whispered. "No. No. No."

"Come on. Sit down."

He said, "No," again, but put up zero fight as she nudged him back and forced him into the chair.

"Try to take deep breaths."

"No. No. No." All the blood seemed to have evacuated Eddie's head and hands. Maybe it had rushed to his feet.

Leaving Eddie briefly, Abbie stepped to the exterior wall and looked beside the bed. She had brought from the car her drawstring bag containing all her possessions. Shoving in her hand, she withdrew her phone, unlocked it. She'd only had it a couple of weeks. Would only have it a couple more. Luckily, it took no phone-specific knowledge to achieve her aims.

"I'd like to speak to the police."

While she spoke to the person at the other end of the line, revealing her location and telling them what had happened, she patted Danny's jacket with a subtle hand. Not that Eddie was paying her any attention. Inside, she found Danny's wallet and keys. Nothing else. Once she'd hung up the phone, she threw the jacket on the bed.

Eddie was still mumbling. "No. No. No. Danny."

Danny lay on his back between the bed and the wall. The way he was sprawled, his arms and legs in awkward positions, you might have assumed he had collapsed beside rather than on his bed after a heavy night, and passed out drunk.

But drunks don't sleep with wide-open, terror-filled eyes. At least, not in Abbie's experience. Nor did their impending hangover lead to their chest, their trousers, and their face,