Chapter 8

“Then I’ll see you later. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

Michael disappeared again, and after Shane heard the front door close, he hurried to make sure it was locked. He then went to a window, lifting the curtain only enough to be able to get a good look at the house next door.

The car was there. What’s he doing home at this hour? An early lunch? Or perhaps his conscience had prompted him to take time off work to check he hadn’t murdered Shane? Had he noticed Shane’s things missing? Probably not. The arsehole probably wouldn’t notice anything amiss until that evening when he returned from work and saw that his dinner hadn’t been cooked.

Shane let go of the curtain and walked back to the guest room. He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how he had come to be in such a miserable position.