Someone Who Isn't Me by Danuta Kot (romance novel chinese novels .TXT) 📕

the remains of what was in her cupboard across it all – red sauce, brown sauce, what was left of the milk. The lamp – her lamp with the red shade – was pulled over and the shade was crushed and broken as if someone had stamped on it. The blind was pulled off the window and torn to pieces. The contents of the waste bin were strewn about the room, and – now she knew what the smell was – there was shit smeared across the walls.

Her legs gave way and she sat down hard on the floor.

Where was Spice? She pushed herself to her feet and made herself pick up the soiled bedding and stuff scattered on the floor, and the chair – all the stuffing was coming out. It was slashed across, and so was the mattress and her quilt.

Everything.

She checked everywhere, under the chair, under the bed, in the corners and cupboards and other hiding places, blinking the tears away as she got more and more frantic.

She knew what she was looking for, she knew what she would find; a small furry body that showed she should never have tried to help the kitten, that trying to help just meant that someone had killed it, and it would have been better if she’d never touched it, if she’d just left it alone, because didn’t she know by now? Anything she tried to care about just got trashed. Look what had happened to Kay. Look what happened to Andy. Look what almost happened to Jared.

Waste of space! Loser! Pathetic…

But there was no sign of Spice. Whatever they’d done to the kitten, they hadn’t left the evidence behind.

She huddled into her coat. The room was freezing and it stank. Listlessly, she began to gather up the stuff from on the floor into a big pile. Black bags – she needed black bags, shove it all in and chuck it. She didn’t want it any more. Any of it.

She didn’t want to stay here.

She didn’t want to be anywhere.

There were stains on her hands. Holding them away from her, feeling the sickness in her throat, she crossed the corridor to the bathroom. As she turned on the taps, she heard a squeak.

There was movement, and Spice emerged from a hole in the skirting behind the toilet, yawning and stretching.

Once again, Becca’s legs felt shaky. She scrubbed her hands clean, soaping them again and again, not able to see what she was doing because this time she was really crying, then sank down with her back to the door, and gently picked up the small cat. It gave a mew of protest and chewed at her finger as she sat there with it held under her chin, stroking the soft fur.

How had Spice got in here? She’d left the kitten shut in the room.

Lewis.

Maybe he hadn’t brought the other kids here. Maybe he’d taken her keys so he could hide out in her flat. Maybe that made more sense to him than going home to a place where the gang knew they could find him.

And in that case – had he seen them coming and hidden Spice, knowing what the gang would do to the kitten if they found her? Who had he seen, though? Who had done this to her flat? And where was Lewis now?

And Toby. What had happened to Toby? Someone must have heard that he was about to tell her something, and had stopped him. Who? Carl had been in the back – no, he’d been there the second time, when she’d asked Toby to tell her and he’d sent Toby outside on some job or other.

When the bar was busy.

Carl.

Andy was gone and now something had happened to Toby, because of what she’d done.

And there was worse. A cold feeling was growing inside her.

Scribbled on a piece of paper on the wall above the sink – Kay’s new address. Only she hadn’t written Kay. She’d written Mum.

Whoever they were, they knew Sunk Island because they’d killed Andy down there. And now, they knew her mother lived there.

She pulled out her phone and dialled Kay’s number. There was no point in being secret now.

The phone rang and rang. Becca told herself Kay wasn’t answering because it was late, she wasn’t answering because she was asleep, she wasn’t…

She sent a text: Call me now!!! And stood there, frozen, in the middle of the trashed room.

She had to do something.

And now, her mind on high alert with panic, she realised what it was she was trying to remember. Days ago, when Curwen first came into the pub, he’d asked her. He’d given her two names: Stoner, and Doc… It wasn’t something Johnny Dip had said – it was Sal Capone, the woman he’d called Alicia. She’d come over. Hey, Doc. Where’s our drinks? And then she’d looked at Becca and said, Oops.

Because she wasn’t supposed to call him Doc.

And Toby. She’d called Johnny Dip ‘Doc’, and Toby seemed to know who she meant. Then he’d vanished. Johnny Dip was one of them. She’d asked him about Andy and he must have sent them round to scare her off. This time, he must mean business. And he knew where Kay lived.

She had to get out of there, fast.

Chapter 35

Curwen was packing up at the end of his shift when Sykes came back into the office. ‘Any news?’ he asked. He wanted to keep an eye on Hammond’s investigation – it wasn’t just a case of covering his own back. Something was off.

‘Not really.’

His phone rang. It was after midnight – who was calling at this time? He checked the number. Becca the Barmaid. Not so long ago, this would have been a major triumph, but now it had the feel of yesterday’s news. ‘Curwen. What’s up?’

Becca was talking fast, stumbling over her words, talking about spice, about a kid called Lewis, about K, about Sunk Island. He pointed to his phone, rolling his eyes at