‘The car,’ Kim said as the picture came into her mind.
She’d been able to see the solar lights in front of Edna’s rockery.
‘The car isn’t on the drive,’ she repeated, heading back down the path.
‘Whose car?’ Leanne called out, closing Kim’s front door.
‘Edna’s. She hasn’t driven it in years. Eyesight. She keeps it on the drive, so it looks like there’s someone else there.’
‘She could have just got rid of it or let someone else use it.’
‘Absolutely,’ Kim agreed, standing at the end of Edna’s path. ‘No lights on,’ she said, opening the gate.
‘Her bin is full,’ Kim said, lifting the black lid.
Kim hammered on the door. Hard.
‘Edna,’ she called out at the top of her voice.
‘You really don’t care about being liked, do you?’ Leanne asked.
‘Not your first priority either, is it?’ Kim shot back.
She hammered and shouted some more.
Nothing.
She pushed open the letterbox in the old wooden door.
‘Edna, are you…Jesus Christ,’ she said as the smell of faeces reached her.
‘Bloody hell,’ Leanne agreed as the smell wafted through.
‘This isn’t right,’ Kim said, taking a step back. ‘We need to get in there right now.’
‘Call the…’ Leanne’s words trailed away as she realised what she’d been about to say.
‘We are the fucking police,’ Kim snapped. ‘Now either help me or get out of my way.’
To her credit, Leanne didn’t hesitate. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘On the count of three, you put your weight against the top while I take a kick at the bottom.’
‘Got it. Count,’ Leanne said, getting into position.
‘One, two, three.’
The door crashed open on the first attempt, and they almost fell on each other in the hallway.
The smell directed them to the dining room.
For one second the two women were paralysed as their gaze fell on the frail elderly lady held to a chair by ties around her wrists and ankles, and a scarf wrapped around her stomach.
‘Good God,’ Leanne whispered.
‘Call an ambulance,’ Kim instructed, moving towards the sorrowful sight.
‘I’ll do it while I’m checking the house,’ Leanne said, rushing from the room.