‘I definitely closed it when I left,’ said Tina, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘Maybe a draught has caught it.’
‘You stay right behind me at all times,’ said John. He took his gun from his holster and rested his hand over the other which held the torch. He swung the torch light over and around the door. He hooked the bottom of the door with his foot and pulled it open wider. ‘Try not to touch anything,’ he instructed. ‘If someone has broken in they might have left fingerprints or some sort of evidence.’
The house was in total darkness as they entered, the shaft of light from the torch their only guide. Tina put her hand on John’s back. She felt safe having actual physical contact. There was an atmosphere in the house she hadn’t felt before. The kitchen she had been in countless times over the years seemed alien to her. The familiar cupboards and white goods were now just dark shadows and outlines. The stillness of the house was unnerving and she strained to listen for any sign that someone other than Mr Cooper was in the house. She wished she hadn’t been so insistent on coming.
John shone the light on the closed door of what was once the dining room. ‘Mr Cooper sleeps downstairs,’ said Tina as quietly as she could. They paused and listened intently. The faint sound of Mr Cooper’s rhythmic breathing filtered through. He gave a snuffle, mumbled something incoherent and then the steady in and out of his breathing resumed.
John gave a flick with the torch towards the living-room door, which was open. The street light cast a grungy yellow light pathway into the room. Tina smothered a startled yelp. A tall shadow in the corner of the room took her by surprise. Almost immediately she realised that it was just the standard lamp behind Mr Cooper’s armchair.
‘You all right?’ said John.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She didn’t feel remotely fine. The darkness of the house was oppressive. It felt heavy and foreboding. All Tina’s senses were telling her to get out, to run back to the safety of her own home, with all lights blazing brightly.
A creak from upstairs snapped her to attention. John had heard it too. They both looked up towards the ceiling. Another creak – this one slower, more deliberate. A muffled, indistinguishable sound followed. Again it had the feel of being a controlled noise, a slow and deliberate distribution of weight.
John moved into the hall, sweeping the shadows, his torch and gun in unison, the bottom tread of the staircase becoming illuminated. John placed his foot on the stair and slowly began the ascent. Tina followed. Her heart was beating heavily. As they neared the turn in the staircase, John stopped.
The silence weighed heavy, pushing down on Tina’s shoulders, squeezing her from the sides, condensing the space around her like a car being crushed at the scrapyard. Her instincts were urging her to turn and flee down the stairs. She moved ever so slightly closer to John. The movement of her feet on the tread caused a creak in the board. She stood still.
Not a sound could be heard. John moved around the half landing and up onto the first floor. Tina followed. John’s light beam settled on the open door of the front bedroom. Without hesitating, he went into the room. Tina waited in the doorway.
The moon shone through the naked glass and as Tina peered into the bedroom, she watched John check everywhere, even under the bed and behind the open curtains. He turned his attention to the window and reaching up, pulled the small fanlight shut, hooking the metal catch onto the prong.
‘There’s nothing here,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘It must have been this window causing the door to bang.’ He pushed his Glock into the safety of the holster.
Tina wasn’t convinced. ‘I didn’t realise the window was open and there’s not really any wind tonight.’
‘I’ll check the other rooms, if you like, but I’m sure this is our culprit.’
He sidestepped her as she stood in the doorway. Opening the doors to the other two rooms and the bathroom, he performed a sweep of each area, again checking under the beds and behind curtains. ‘Definitely nothing here.’
‘But you heard it too,’ said Tina. ‘It must have been sufficient for you to come and investigate.’
John looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe we are both a bit jittery. If there was anything more sinister here, it’s gone now.’
‘I don’t like it. There was definitely someone on the staircase, I’m certain. It wasn’t my imagination. Or yours.’
‘As I said, nothing here now.’ He steered her downstairs and towards the back door, pausing on the way to listen outside Mr Cooper’s room. ‘He’s snoring. He hasn’t been disturbed at all.’