Nothing.
He focused on the open door as he reached the top of the stairs. He edged closer, holding his breath. He stepped carefully over the carpet on the landing. The building was old, despite the modern renovation works, and he didn’t trust the floorboards. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to creak theatrically and forewarn anyone still in the apartment.
He took a deep, slow breath through his mouth. His heart beat hard, a vein in his neck pulsing from the adrenaline rushing through his system. He stared at the splintered door frame. Whoever had forced their way into Sarah’s apartment had considerable strength – and a crowbar.
Dan hugged the wall as he got closer until he was level with the door. The door was open no more than a few centimetres. Dan crouched down. No sense in giving someone the opportunity of a free headshot if the intruder was armed. He held out his hand and gently pushed the door open. It rocked back on its damaged frame and swung inwards.
Dan craned his neck, peered round the edge of the frame and glanced inside. His heart cranked up a notch.
The apartment had been trashed. He stood up and listened carefully. He couldn’t hear a sound. He crept into the hallway and pushed the door behind him, to keep away any nosy neighbours.
He turned left towards the living room first, keeping the shortest distance between him and the front door. He peered around the door to the room. The television had been kicked over, glass shards strewn over the fireside rug while the small coffee table lay upside down, one of the art prints stabbed over the table’s upturned legs.
He strode over to the coffee table and wrenched off one of the table legs. Testing its weight in his hand, he glared around the room at the damage and sniffed the air. No gas, at least. Perhaps he’d frightened off the intruder.
Dan tightened his grip on the makeshift weapon, then turned and edged his way along the hallway towards the kitchen. He checked the two bedrooms and bathroom as he progressed. All were turned upside down in the intruder’s haste.
He shouldered the table leg as he gently pushed the kitchen door open. Cupboards had been emptied, their contents thrown across the floor. The microwave lay in one corner, its door hanging off its hinges while the refrigerator teetered precariously on one side, water dripping out and over the tiled floor.
Dan turned around, surveying the damage, then stopped dead and stared at the wall. Two words, splashed across the wall in a red liquid.
You’re next.
Dan’s stomach lurched. Sarah.
Dan felt his heart accelerate and a cold sweat creep between his shoulder blades. Please, no!
He walked the length of the apartment again, desperately searching for signs of a violent struggle amongst the debris of the break-in. His eyes scanned across each of the rooms as he strode down the hallway, opening doors, lifting broken furniture off the carpet.
There was no sign of Sarah. What about her computer?
Dan ran back to the guest room where, the day before, he’d spotted a small desk and a printer. He burst through the door. Everything had been smashed to pieces.
He tightened his grip on the table leg and stalked back to the kitchen. He stopped and stared at the wall, then closed his eyes, thinking hard.
He jumped as he heard the front door being pushed open. He opened his eyes and tested the weight of the table leg and then raised it to shoulder height. Someone was moving carefully along the hallway towards the kitchen, creeping along the carpeted surface.
As the kitchen door began to open in towards him, Dan raised the weapon.
He dropped it in surprise as Sarah stepped into the room, her face three shades of white as she surveyed the damage.
She stared up at Dan. ‘Been busy?’
He stepped over the debris strewn over the floor and pulled her towards him, hugging her tightly.
‘I thought they’d taken you,’ he whispered.
Sarah held him, and looked around her at the devastation. She stopped and stared at the message on the wall. ‘What happened?’
Dan followed her gaze. ‘I think they came looking for us – and the notes.’ He began to straighten the furniture, just to give himself something to do.
Then he turned to Sarah, his heart beating fast. ‘We need to go and check on Harry. The bastards might’ve got to him too.’
She nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
Darkness fell over the countryside as Dan floored the accelerator and the car sped down the motorway. The traffic lessened the further they left the city behind, the headlight beams picking out bare trees and hedgerows. Dan didn’t speak. His only thought was to get to Harry. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his mentor, his friend.
As they approached Oxford, Dan turned left onto the ring road and hit the main road towards Swindon.
Sarah glanced at her watch. ‘It’s been two hours, Dan,’ she said.
‘I know, I know,’ he muttered, and pressed his foot to the floor.
He slowed to take a left-hand turn and pointed the car towards Uffington. As the road narrowed, it twisted and turned. Dan guided the vehicle along the lanes, switched the headlights to high beam and concentrated on the road. He noticed his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel and forced his heart rate down.
Dan turned up the lane to Harry’s house and slowed the car to a halt.
‘Oh no,’ said Sarah.
Dan looked to where she pointed. The front door was wide open. No lights shone from the windows.
‘Come on,’ he said and jumped out of the car.
Chapter 36
Dan walked slowly up the garden path, looked at the open door and frowned. He used his elbows to push the door open and winced as it creaked on its hinges.
‘Harry?’ Dan stopped on the threshold. He could smell gas – strong, pungent. He heard a movement behind the living room door. Scratching, scraping.
‘Harry?’
He heard a groan from behind the door. Dan stepped round the wooden frame.