Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 17

‘I’m surprised you haven’t got better things to do,’ she called out, silently cursing the unruly children who lived at the cheaper end of the street. She was about to slam the door shut, when she noticed the box. A courier’s cardboard box left on her doorstep. A white label adorned the top and on it was written ‘The Matthews family’ and then their address – misspelt in spidery, crabbed handwriting. It looked like a present of some sort – but it wasn’t anybody’s birthday. Eileen stuck her head out once more, expecting to see Simon the postman or a courier’s van parked up on the double yellow lines – but there was no one in sight.

The boys were on to her immediately, asking her if they could open it, but Eileen held firm. She would open it and if it was appropriate she would share it with them. They didn’t really have time – it was 8.40 already for goodness’ sake – but better to open it now, put the boys out of their misery and then get on with their morning. Suddenly Eileen felt cross with herself for dawdling and she resolved to get on with things – if they hurried they might just make it to school on time.

Pulling a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer, she sliced a line down the duct tape that bound the box together. As she did so, her nose wrinkled – a strong odour emanated from inside. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was but she didn’t like it. Was it something industrial? Something animal? Her instinct was to re-seal the package and wait for Alan’s return, but the boys were nagging her to get on with it… so gritting her teeth she threw open the box.

And screamed. Suddenly she couldn’t stop screaming, despite the fact that the boys were clearly terrified by the noise. Tearful, they hurried to her, but she pushed them angrily away. When they fought back, begging her to tell them what was going on, she grabbed them by their collars and hauled them roughly out of the room, screaming all the while for someone – anyone – to help.

The offending box was left alone in the room. The top lolled lazily backwards, revealing the legend ‘Evill’ written in dark crimson on the underside. It was the perfect introduction to the box’s awful contents. Lying within, in a nest of dirty newspaper, was a human heart.

‘Where are the others?’

Clutching her case file, Charlie surveyed the Major Incident Team’s office. It felt extremely odd to be back, but the situation was made stranger still by the fact that the office seemed to be completely deserted.