Page 28 of Final Betrayal

‘Why didn’t you ring it in?’

‘I’m blue in the face ringing these things in to you lot. I’m beginning to think you’re as bad as the council.’

‘So why call in this morning?’

‘The thing is, I saw two people go in, but only one came out. Unusual, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Right so.’ Thornton pushed his peaked cap back on his head and knocked on the door.

‘It’s open. How else do the junkies get in?’ Mrs Loughlin’s voice was laced with derision. ‘Go on. In you go.’

‘Did you enter the premises?’

‘Do you think I’m stupid? I don’t want to be leaving my DNA in there. What if there was a murder or something? You’d be knocking on my door mighty quick then, wouldn’t you?’

Thornton’s head was beginning to thump. He made sure his gloves were firmly in place and pushed open the door.

The smell wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting, but there was a distinct fustiness emanating from the walls. The hallway was dim, lit only from the outside via the open door behind him. He chanced a look over his shoulder and noticed that Mrs Loughlin had retreated to the rusty gate. Taking another step inside, he felt his boots sticking to something. Oil? Or something more human? He shuddered and moved forward.

That was when he saw two figures lying at the foot of the stairs. He leaned over the first one. As he put a gloved finger to the throat, the eyes flashed open. Thornton jumped back against the wall.

‘Jesus Christ. I thought you were dead. What happened? Are you okay?’

He got a groan in reply. Moving to the second figure, he heard the moan before his fingers were in place. He was ready for the eyes to open, but they didn’t. At least both lads were alive. He’d have to check for injuries.

Then the smell reached him.

SEVENTEEN

The sirens wailed as the ambulances carried the two lads off to hospital.

‘Told you something funny was going on,’ Mrs Loughlin said, folding her arms and leaning on the wet wall.

‘So you did.’ Garda Thornton couldn’t get the sickly smell out of his nostrils. He itched to get back to the station and maybe find time to grab a quick shower.

‘Fancy a cuppa?’ she said.

‘That’d be grand, but I have to get back to the desk.’

‘The desk isn’t going to run away, is it?’

‘No, it won’t, but I have a job to do.’ Thornton looked up at the house and was struck by a recollection. ‘Mrs Loughlin, you said you saw two people go in and only one come out.’

‘I did,’ she said. Then she opened her mouth in a perfect O. ‘Someone else must have been in there. Someone who attacked those two poor boys before running off.’

‘Go put that kettle on,’ Thornton said. ‘I’m going to have another quick look inside.’

‘Here, take my umbrella.’

He laughed. ‘I’ll be grand.’

As the old lady headed towards her home, Thornton moved up the footpath to the door of the derelict house. Was this more than two lads falling out over a bag of weed or a can of beer?

Up the stairs he went, and as he climbed, the odour became more pungent and fetid.

He knew it was not just dry rot he could smell. It was something rotting all right, but also metallic. Blood, he thought, though not the blood from downstairs. It was up here, and he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to find the source. But he had to see for himself.

When he did, he plucked his radio from his uniform and, with a trembling voice, called the station.

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