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The light above the door was out, which Louis found strange – he had replaced the bulb two days ago – and the door was ajar. Natalie always locked it. His heart pounded in his chest. He kicked the door open. It banged against the wall and bounced back towards him.
“Natalie,” he called from the doorway.
Silence.
“Natalie,” he called again, this time louder. His voice reached a higher pitch than usual and squeaked like a thirteen-year-old boy whose voice was breaking.
He heard the wind howling through an open window in the kitchen. The kitchen curtains flapped and disturbed the leaves of her herbs on the window sill. He took a tentative step inside and stood in the hallway.
“What the f**k is she up to now?” he mumbled under his breath.
There were more dangerous predators in Pretori
