Hide and Seek by P.S. Brown

actually possible to fake identification or whether he was simply thinking that because of all the movies he had seen. An immediate worry grew in Peter, Celo had his wallet. What if Celo had used his driving licence and credit cards to rent out the apartment? No, it was highly unlikely that Celo could rent it on a Sunday morning, pick up the keys and get Colin and that apparatus in. It must have been rented out earlier and Colin was taken there during the night whilst everyone else was sleeping peacefully in their beds unaware that a deranged killer was creeping around the corridors.
    Peter ran directly past the road leading down to his old secondary school. As he passed he took a fleeting glance down the road and saw an eight foot high fence surrounding the field , which sloped down to the school. It was another fence which hadn’t been there when he was a child. Through the gathering fog he could just make out the outlines of the roofs of the school buildings. Peter rounded the corner towards Low Grange shops, slowing his pace to a stop so he could take in his surroundings.
    He looked over to the four shops; the chip shop was still there, although it looked like it was under a different name. There was a charity shop and then a newsagent. All three shops were closed. Finally, what was formerly Michael Lawrence’s sweet shop was now a bakery. The four shops stood on an island of pavement in the sea of the residential estate. There was an alleyway at either end leading round the back to a row of garages belonging to some of the houses on the estate. And - at the side of the buildings - a flight of stairs led to a first floor balcony and the doors to the flats above the shops.
    W here was Cheryl? Actually in the shop? Or in the flat upstairs? Celo’s first clue hadn’t been completely specific. It had mentioned the incident with Colin falling down the stairs, but he wasn’t on the stairs … he was in one of the apartments on the top floor. However Celo had left him another clue on the keypad at the entrance to the flats, but what if Peter had missed that clue? He didn’t have time for this. He looked at his watch; 11 minutes to go.
    Peter ran up to the shop entrance and tried the door . Locked. He retrieved the keys from his jacket pocket and tried all of them, none worked. He cupped his hands to the window and peered in. It was shrouded in darkness, nothing moved, nothing looked out of place.
    Peter ran up the stairs to the balcony at the back. He looked out over the garages opposite - behind them was the cricket grounds and club where his father used to take him when he was younger.
    Peter approached the door to the flat directly above the bakery. He felt unsure of what to do so he knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer and no movement to suggest anyone was in. The curtains of the adjoining window were drawn so he couldn’t look in. Peter tried the door handle.  Locked again. He retrieved the keys from his jacket pocket and his trembling hands messily tried the keys once more. He was terrified as to what to expect this time. Would Cheryl be rigged to another contraption like Colin was? This flat wasn’t high enough to throw Cheryl out and kill her. Peter took a deep breath and turned the last key, the lock clicked and the door started to swing open of its own accord.
    Peter timidly entered the flat. The light from the open doorway cast his silhouette across the entire room. He could see a light switch on the wall beside the door and he flicked it on. It was a small living room with nothing but a couch in the middle of the room. There were no pictures on the walls and no television; it looked like no one had lived here for a while. Peter closed the door behind him and crossed over to the first door and leant his head into the kitchen to look around. It was a very small kitchen with nothing of interest. Peter moved to the next door and opened it; it was a small bathroom with a shower over a bath, a toilet