The Soul Collector by Paul Johnston Read Free Book Online Page B

block, on the fourth floor. From where I was, I could see up to the left-hand rooms of my place—the kitchen and guest room. Lights had just come on in both. Jesus. I stepped into the shadows, my eyes locked on the glass running the full height of the rooms. There were venetian blinds and curtains in both. The former had been closed when I left. Someone had opened them before turning on the lights, which suggested it wasn’t a burglar, even if one had got past the doors and alarms. It was hardly likely to be Sara or anyone else who had an interest in my demise. They’d made their presence pretty obvious. I thought of ringing Dave again. As I did, I saw a shape move across the kitchen.
    Suddenly I was filled with anger. Some bastard had got into my home and was strolling around, poking his nose in my things. To hell with that. I moved forward at a trot 54
    Paul Johnston
    that was soon close to a full-on sprint. I slowed as I approached the building because the perimeter camera would pick me up—as it would have my visitor—and the security firm would send a man over if it looked like the place was under assault. I punched my code into the main door and headed for the stairs. I’d only been in the lift once, and that was when I moved in—I wouldn’t let the removals guys carry my precious stereo system. I glanced at my watch. My record for the four flights was 19.4 seconds. I did them in 20.2 and jogged lightly down the wide hallway.
    At my door, I felt my anger weaken, but not enough to stop me sliding my key silently into the lock. I got my breathing under control, then took out my cell phone and found Dave’s number in the memory. If anything adverse happened, I only had to press the button and he’d be connected. He would see my number on his phone’s screen and get going. The five of us had set that system up after the White Devil’s death and we’d tested it several times.
    I was ready. I only wished I had taken some kind of weapon with me. From now on I’d be making sure I was always armed. Three—two—one…I turned the key and pushed the door open, then ran into the living area, shouting, “Who the fuck are you?”
    “Daddy?” My daughter’s voice was fearful. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the star-shaped mirror that my editor had given me when The Death List reached number one, I understood why. My eyes were wide, my hair was all over the place and I looked like a chest-heaving Viking in full berserk mode.
    “Em, hello, Lucy,” I said, exhaling and looking around.
    “What happened?” she asked. “You frightened me.”
    The Soul Collector
    55
    I squatted down and opened my arms, as I’d done since she’d started walking.
    After a pause, she ran into my embrace. Eleven wasn’t so old after all. I breathed in the scent of her hair and felt the warmth of her against my chest.
    “What are you doing here?” I felt like a complete jackass. The only person apart from Karen who had a key, and knew the entry and alarm codes, was my ex-wife, Caroline. I heard the toilet next to the kitchen flush. Any second now, she would be loose.
    “I…I was lonely,” Lucy said, clutching me. “I wanted to see you, Daddy.”
    “But I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” I said. The door opened and Caroline walked out, shaking her hands. “Oh, there you are,” she said to me, as if I didn’t belong in my own home. “The towel in there needs changing.”
    I stood up and bit back on the sarcastic response. No fighting in front of Lucy was the rule, though it had been broken far too often. “Nice to see you, Caroline,” I said.
    “Just out of interest, what are you doing here?”
    “Didn’t Lucy tell you?” she said, walking past us. “She wanted to see you. For once, I gave in to her demands. It is a Friday evening, after all, and we were at a concert at the Festival Hall.” She moved her head around in a theatrical way. “What on earth do you do with all this space?”
    “Play cricket in it,” I