Stolen Souls

59

LENNON RECOGNIZED THE Mercedes as he pulled up behind it. He climbed out of his Audi and walked a circle around the Merc. Footprints led to and from its driver’s door, leaving a trail that ran around the side of the house.

“Shit,” he said, leaving a puff of mist to hang in the air.

The snow had stopped, but the cold bit harder and deeper than it had all day. He turned in a circle. How could a house in the city feel so isolated? What lay inside? What was Strazdas’s thug doing here?

Lennon had no intention of going into this place alone. He grabbed his mobile from his pocket and called the duty officer at the station.

“Have you got a car available near Cavehill Road?” he asked. “I’ve got a suspected break in, but I don’t fancy tackling this by myself.”

“Most patrols are in the city center,” the duty officer said. “Keeping tabs on the drinkers. Shouldn’t be too busy yet, though. You want me to send one your way?”

“Yes,” Lennon said, and gave him the address. “I’ll sit tight until—”

The icy quiet shattered with a gunshot from inside the house, the echoes of it deadened by the snow that shrouded everything. Dogs barked their alarm in the surrounding streets.

“Shot fired,” Lennon said. “Get that car here now. Tell them I’m in trouble.”