The Rabbit Hunter

76

The four-inch nails shriek as Joona tries to break his way in through the front door. He pushes the end of the crowbar in close to the lock and shoves, and the frame splinters as the door latch comes loose.

Joona pushes the door open and peers into the dark hallway.

‘Police!’ he shouts loudly. ‘We’re entering the house!’

His words are soaked up by darkness and silence. Wind blows across the roof, making the weathervane creak.

Jack’s breathing speeds up, and he glances around anxiously, whispering to himself. Joona draws his pistol and moves cautiously into the hallway. On the rug there’s a small doll whose legs are spread oddly. Someone’s scribbled on her face with a pen.

Raincoats hang on hooks above a shoe-rack full of wellington boots and wooden clogs.

Joona opens the fuse-box inside the front door and sees that the main power supply has been switched off.

‘There’s no one here,’ Jack whispers again.

They walk into a small living room with a television and a battered leather sofa. The air is perfectly still, and smells like dry wood and dust.

‘Police!’ Joona calls again. ‘We need to speak to you, Oscar!’

He goes into a bedroom. The top bunk bed is made up. The wide floorboards creak beneath his weight. A screen is leaning up against the wall, the plug to the standard lamp has been pulled out, and there’s a water-damaged child’s drawing of a cheerful girl holding a skeleton by the hand on the bottom bunk.

Jack goes into the second bedroom and hears something rustle briefly. There’s barely any light in here at all. The curtains are drawn, and the gap between them has been closed with three clothes pegs.

Someone’s been lying in the double bed. The covers are pulled back and there are signs of dried blood on one pillow.

When Jack opens the wardrobe, it wobbles because of the uneven floor. All it has in it are a couple of pale T-shirts and a blue bikini.

There’s a creaking sound behind him to one side, and he spins around, trying to pull his pistol from its holster.

He takes a step to the side, but can’t see anything in the dark corner behind the bed. With his hands trembling he draws the pistol and creeps closer — he can make out a shape, the size of a child’s head, beneath the bed.

He hears the noise again, and realises it must be coming from the roof, probably a gull sliding down the tiles.

He keeps walking towards the dark corner, and bends over. His plait falls over his shoulder as he discovers that it’s a deflated plastic ball with a yellow Pokémon logo.

Joona peers into the bathroom. On top of the washing machine is a damp packet of laundry detergent and a basket of clothes pegs. Joona marches in and pulls open the limescale-streaked door to the shower. All he finds are a bucket and a red-handled mop.

Leaving the bathroom, Joona meets Jack in the passageway that leads to the kitchen, the last room in the house.

They look at each other and nod.

Jack reaches for the closed door, pushes it open and takes a step back as Joona goes in with his pistol drawn.

There’s no one there.

Joona moves quickly around the tall breakfast counter with its four bar-stools, aims the pistol at the fridge, then lowers it.

The window is covered with cardboard on the inside, but in the faint light that manages to get in he can see rows of tins on the worktop.

Joona stops in front of the kitchen door.

It’s been nailed shut from the inside.

This was where they got in, just as he thought.

In front of him is a pair of folding wooden doors leading to the boathouse. They look like big window-shutters, and they reach all the way from the floor to the ceiling.

Joona puts his hand on the old wood-burning stove that stands beside the modern electric one.

It’s cold.

There’s a dustpan and broom in one corner, containing fragments of a bowl and some sweets.

Joona crouches down and inspects bloodstains on one leg of the kitchen table, then sees a trail of blood leading across the floor towards the boathouse.

He raises his pistol, goes over to the folding doors and tries to open one of them, but it catches after opening a crack.

He pulls hard, but the door is stuck.

Suddenly he thinks he can see a white light flash in the boathouse. He leans towards the crack between the door and frame and peers in. From the little he can see through the gap, it looks like this part of the boathouse is used as a dining room. He can make out a long, narrow table, and the backs of the chairs along one side.

Joona tries to pull the door open again, but stops when he hears noises from inside.

Then everything gets quiet again.

He waits a few seconds, then pushes one arm through the gap, right up to his shoulder.

He can no longer see inside the room, but he starts to feel across the back of the door to find out what’s blocking it.

Joona hears the banging, thudding sound from the boathouse again.

He presses the barrel of his pistol to the door with his free hand as he feels across the other side.

‘What’s going on?’ Jack whispers.

Joona sinks to one knee and finds a sturdy bolt close to the floor. He carefully pulls it open with his fingertips.

It comes free with a gentle clunk, and the gap opens a little further.

He quickly pulls his arm back in, steps back and aims towards the opening at chest-height.

The banging noise has stopped.

He opens the door and looks into the darkness.

He moves sideways silently, with his gun raised, trying to make sense of the shapes he can see.

Suddenly he realises that there’s someone in the middle of the room.

A face, no more than a metre above the floor.

Joona sinks instinctively to one knee, immediately identifies a line of fire and puts his finger on the trigger.

In the faint light from the west-facing window, he can just see that it’s a young woman tied to a chair.

Her blonde hair is tangled, and she has tape over her mouth.

She stares at him and starts to rock violently, making the chair legs hit the floor rhythmically.

‘Caroline?’ Joona says.