Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

time instead of accessing the police databanks she pulled up Google, searching for footage from one of the most horrific cases Wales had ever known. It didn’t take her long to scroll through the images to find the one she wanted, the last photo of the Stevens family, reproduced over and over again for the eager ghoul-loving gratification of the British public. There wasn’t anything exciting about the picture. Millions of similar snaps existed in dusty albums the length and breadth of the country. The bright cheesy smiles. The parents standing at the back, their arms around the two younger boys. The surly-looking teenager standing slightly apart as if he was struggling to feel part of the group. She printed off two copies of the image and, while she waited, scanned the article for a name, slapping her hand against her thigh when she found it.

Ronan Stevens. She knew it was something unusual. But what a lad of eighteen or thereabouts would be doing with Elodie Fry was another thing as she struggled to remember what Darin had said about him at the time. She blinked, her frown lines creasing. Troubled. That was it. A troubled young man tormented by the actions of others.

Chapter 24

Ronan

Monday 3 August, 7.45 p.m. Caernarfon

The bedroom was very different to the last time Ronan had seen it. The antique walnut dressing table and matching wardrobe were nowhere in sight and instead of the large double bed all that remained was a dusty space. There was nothing in this room now. No shadows of the family photos and the cut-crystal perfume bottles that his grandmother used to collect. All that was left of the paintings that had spanned the walls were faded shapes on the wallpaper, a fierce reminder of the changes wrought since their death. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of doing more than glancing at the bare floorboards, which had once been topped with a thick pile carpet in a nondescript brown to match the bedspread. His thoughts shut down the image that was threatening to take over his mind.

Touching the brass handle, he pulled the door closed with a gentle but resolute click and hid his trembling fingers deep inside the pockets of his jeans. While he’d had to see the room if only to prove to himself that everything he’d been told was true, there was no way he ever intended to cross the threshold again.

Back in the hall, he was pleased to note that Ellie hadn’t moved. He’d only been gone less than a minute but in that time her chin had sunk onto her chest. It looked as if she’d dropped off to sleep. Her eyes were certainly closed and her chest was rising up and down with a regularity that suggested her relaxed state. It seemed a shame to have to move her so he didn’t. Instead he stepped around and walked to the other end of the hall and the rooms on the right.

This was the original part of the farmhouse with a large rustic kitchen and earthenware flagstones. Here the oval table took pride of place and he could still see the marks on the surface from where his grandmother had used to prepare their meals. But he didn’t linger, instead he metaphorically crossed his fingers inside his pockets and made his way to the room next door.

He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until he felt the air rush through his teeth in relief at the sight of the bunk beds pushed up against the wall opposite and the solitary single divan under the window. This had been their domain. The place where he and his brothers had slept all those summers when their parents had shipped them off to stay with their grandparents while they continued working at their respective jobs. It was here that the three of them had collapsed each evening in an untidy heap, dead to the world as soon as their heads had touched the pillow after a day spent either on the beach or roaming the countryside. The farm had been cleared by his father of anything of any importance soon after his grandfather’s funeral. It was providential that the bunk beds and old divan held little value to anyone except for a couple of weary travellers in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

Ronan was a realist. He knew that they’d been incredibly lucky with both the train journey and the walk from the station. But he was well aware of the unlikeliness of their luck holding for much longer. All it needed was one nosy neighbour to realise that the farmhouse wasn’t deserted and their hiding place would be discovered. For it to work he had to find some way of keeping them both hidden from view and, after years of experience babysitting his brothers, he knew that asking Ellie to hide away was going to be easier said than done.

Removing his hands from his pockets, he dragged the curtains across the window before making his way back to Ellie, who was still sleeping, now with her thumb stuffed in her mouth. He smiled. After the day she’d had he couldn’t blame her. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bottom bunk. He knew he should probably wake her and encourage her to eat something but a few hours without food wouldn’t do her any harm, not after all the sweets she’d consumed on the walk. Instead he slipped off her trainers, covered her with a thin blanket taken from the top bunk and headed out of the room.

Back in the hall, her bag was a temptation he couldn’t resist. He knew it might be a rotten, underhand thing to do when she was in no fit state to prevent him but he was determined to find out her secret and perhaps this would be the easiest way. He stamped out any thoughts of how