Behind the Walls - PAPERBACK - DCI Pilgrim Crime Thriller Book 4

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1

Bringing her trusty little hatchback to a stop on the residential street, Helen pulled the handbrake on. Closing her eyes, she killed the engine and took a long breath as she prepared herself for another meeting with her brother.
Another meeting that would likely prove to be just as fruitless as the last one, but she had to try.
He was her brother, and frankly, he deserved better than this.
She hated what her father had done to him, how he treated his one and only son. She hated that Mark felt he couldn’t live at home anymore, that he felt ostracised by the very people who should love him the most.
But maybe she could turn that around. Maybe she was his one lifeline, his one chance of having a family. She wasn’t about to abandon him, even if he ended up hating her for it.
She just wanted what was the best for him and the family, and she would do what was necessary to make that happen.
Taking another long breath, she regarded the terrace house across the street, with its tired façade and dark windows. The street was not a wealthy one, with its packed-in, cramped housing, messy three-metre deep front gardens and banged up cars parked haphazardly. There was probably a drug problem here, too, if she had to guess. It was that kind of place.
Thinking of Mark living here made her feel sick to her stomach. But what could she do?
Well, she’d do whatever was needed to put things right. She had to because no one else would.
Steeling herself for the confrontation to come, she climbed out of her car and crossed the street.
Approaching the house, she noted the single parked-up van outside the property before turning in and walking up to the front door. All the windows were dark. It didn’t look like he was here, so maybe this was a fruitless endeavour anyway.
Had he moved on already? He’d only been here a few weeks. She wondered how that would go down with the landlord. Not well, she guessed… if she was right.
If he had moved on, she hoped he’d paid this one and not stiffed her too. He’d end up blacklisted for good if he wasn’t careful. Shaking her head, she reached for the door and noticed it swing in slightly as she rapped her knuckles against the wood. The sight of the open door gave her pause as she wondered why on earth he’d leave the front door open on a street like this?
Unless someone had broken in… or he was in trouble of some kind?
Suddenly concerned for Mark’s welfare, she pushed the door wide and stepped inside.
“Mark?”
No answer. The house was dark and quiet. She had a feeling that no one had been here for a while, but it was strange because it also felt like she wasn’t alone.
Someone was in here. She felt sure of it.
“Mark? Are you here?”
Again, there was nothing, just silence. She glanced right into the front room, but there was no one there. Just well-used furniture on worn carpet that badly needed replacing.
Turning, she assessed the corridor before approaching the stairs and looking up. Was he in here? Had he fallen somewhere and needed her help? Or…
She had visions of finding him dead, sitting in a seat or lying in bed. Maybe he’d overdosed? She knew he used occasionally and hoped it wasn’t that. The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.
No, it couldn’t be that. It couldn’t possibly be that. She needed to remain positive and think good thoughts. She’d find him asleep, maybe.
With a frown, she turned back to the front door, the one she’d just closed. But if he was sleeping, why would he have left the door open?
He was probably drunk. Drowning his sorrows, most likely. He could have forgotten to close the door when he stumbled back. Yeah, that felt like it fit better in her mind.
Looking back up the stairs, she placed a foot on the first step and heard a sudden thud. But it didn’t come from upstairs. It came from down here, further in. Did it come from below her?
Did this place have a basement?
Helen walked around and along the hall, finding that the door under the stairs was ajar. She pulled it wide and saw a glow of light down below.
So he was here, she concluded with a smile, swiftly followed by a frown as she pondered why he’d be in the basement.
“Mark, are you down there?”
There was no answer.
Helen found herself rooted to the spot, torn between walking down the old stairs or running from the house.
But why? Why did this scare her so much?
She knew her brother was here just a few days ago. He was renting it, so it must be him down there for some god-awful reason. She just found herself at a loss as to why.
But, if he’d been drinking again and fallen, maybe… maybe he needed her help. He could be dying down there, and she was just a few metres away, scared of a basement.
She shook her head in a vain attempt to banish the silly fears that had blossomed in her mind for no good reason, and think rationally about this. This wasn’t some stupid horror film where the ditzy blonde investigated a dark barn only to find some monstrous creature from a nightmare waiting in the darkness for her.
This was real life, and she wasn’t blonde. Instead, what she did know was that her brother needed help.
Mark was not in a good place mentally, with everything that had been going on, and he was renting this dingy place because of her stupid ass dad. She was his one chance of getting out of here, or at least, that’s what she thought, anyway. That’s what she hoped.
She knew he didn’t quite see it that way, that he didn’t appreciate her sticking her nose into his life, but she couldn’t just leave him. He was her brother. She had to help.
It was a sister’s duty to stand side by side with her family and do whatever was needed to help them.
With that thought foremost in her mind, she set off down the stairs, making for the single light source, mentally preparing herself for what she might find.
At the bottom of the stairs, she turned left and looked across a mostly empty space. There were some racks along one wall. Stones and loose debris littered the concrete floor. She noted some cardboard boxes that had seen better days, rags, and little else. Certainly no sign of Mark.
Weird.
She felt sure she’d heard something, some kind of movement. Maybe she’d been mistaken? Maybe it was next door?
The single bare bulb burnt bright, hanging from a cord on the ceiling with a dangling pull chain.
Maybe he was upstairs, and she was mistaken in thinking someone was down here. Helen walked over and pulled the cord. For a moment, the world went pitch black. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she was soon able to pick out the stairs and the door at the top where dim light leaked into the basement.
She made for it, feeling unsteady on her feet in the darkness.
Movement. She heard something shift and looked round to see another light source as if it were… but no, that was impossible.
What the hell?
That hadn’t been there a moment ago.
A shadow moved across the light. Someone was in here with her.
“Urgh,” she yelped before someone grabbed her and dragged her kicking and screaming away from the stairs and freedom.