The Broken Ones by Sarah A. Denzil Page A

mind.
    She knew the person in her room. She’s never met Peter, so it can’t be him. It could be anyone she used to know. Anyone from her past. Perhaps it’s someone I’ve never met before.
    The shadow.
    Why didn’t I take her seriously? How long has this person been breaking into our house at night?
    How did they get in?
    The nape of my neck prickles as the memory comes back to me. I can’t find my keys. Mum lost her keys not long ago and then found them the next morning. What if they were stolen from her, taken overnight, and the thief made a copy? Erin said Mum had been out in the garden that day. That was the night I found the button.
    I pull sharply onto my road, narrowly missing the neighbour’s cat. Handbrake up. Seatbelt unclipped. I rush towards the house. My frenetic fingers miss the keyhole twice before I open the door. When I burst into the hallway, I catch a glimpse of the wild woman in the mirror, shambolic and undone, all pink-faced and bloodshot.
    “Sophie?” Erin’s soft footsteps patter through the house. “Is that you?”
    I meet her halfway, almost running into her in the living room doorway. Her eyes widen in fear at the sight of me.
    “Has anyone been in the house? Have you noticed anyone hanging around?” I ask.
    Her pretty eyes are like plates, and her mouth makes an “O” shape. “No, no one has been. What’s happened?”
    I’m breathless. My trembling hand rises to my chest. I need to pull myself together if I’m going to handle this. “Alisha… I…” I take a deep breath and compose myself. “With Mum saying that there was a shadow in her room, I decided to put a recording device in there. It was Alisha’s idea. She said there might be a mundane explanation for Mum’s fear that I could record. So, I recorded her room at night and then listened to the file while I was at work. Erin, there was someone in the house .”
    Her hand rises to her mouth, stifling a gasp. “What?”
    “I heard them. I heard their voice on the recording. I’m going to call the police.”
    Erin nods. “Good.”
    “Do you remember the day Mum lost her keys? You said she’d been in the garden.”
    “Yes, that’s right.” She lowers her head as though reliving the day. Then her head snaps up. “It wasn’t long after she came inside that she said she’d lost them. We searched all over the garden, but they weren’t there. I remember she was playing with them that day, walking around and jangling them up and down. It seemed to keep her occupied, so I left her to it.”
    “Did Mum say anything about seeing someone in the garden?”
    “No.” Erin scratches the back of her neck. “No, and I didn’t see anyone.”
    I rummage through my bag, looking for my mobile phone. “On the recording, it sounds like she knew the person who broke into the house. I’m almost certain of it.”
    Erin wraps her arms around her body. “I get chills just thinking about it.” Then she pauses. “What time was the person in the house?”
    “Sometime after 2am. About 2:45, I think. Why?”
    “Well, it could be nothing, but…”
    “Go on,” I prompt.
    “Sometimes your mum takes a nap in the afternoon. When she wakes up, she’s very disorientated. She’ll stare at her reflection in the window and say things like, ‘What are you doing here?’ and ‘Do I know you?’ If it was the middle of the night and she’d just woken up, she could have said that to anyone.”
    “So, it could have been anyone?”
    That’s when it hits me. If the intruder could have been anyone, that means I can’t trust anyone. I turn away from Erin with the phone in my hand. Erin has more access to Mum’s keys than anyone. Maybe I can’t trust her, either.
     
    *
     
    PC Hollis and PC Chowdhury are polite but serious. Hollis is older, with grey stubble, a wide jaw and a boxer’s physique. He resembles the kind of police officer you see on TV. The good cop who works with the maverick. Chowdhury is leaner and has small, dark eyes