extract Nightingale Vale

On the sideboard in Emily Lindsey's house there was a photograph of three dour children. The three Lindsey children this time a little older maybe sixteen or seventeen. Pia and Emily were clearly identical the similarity was stark. There was also an even more depressing photograph of Lucius and Adeline Lindsey taken about 10 years after the fire which showed a thin frail looking couple. It was the last known photograph of them. Connor Riley ripped his gaze from the pictures and continued, rummaging through the sideboard drawers. He picked up and examined a small pot that was inside it. He opened it and sniffed the contents, hashish; he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was still snooping around when he heard the sound of the front door. He did not hesitate but ran on tiptoe up the stairs. He heard Emily enter the house and watched her through the banisters. She removed her fedora and moved around the place mumbling to herself. He was even more alarmed when she started to climb the stairs. The attic hatch was open and Connor climbed in quickly and quietly. It was dark, the dirty sky light illuminated the surroundings. He could see artistic objects, easels and brushes. The place was full of cobwebs. As his eyes accustomed to the gloom, they gravitated to the corner, at first he could not make out, or rather did not want to believe what he saw. He cupped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from being sick or crying out. The skeleton of a man still fully clothed was propped against the wall.

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