CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It was still dark and raining heavily when Rachel turned the key in the front door of 38 Great Pulteney Street. Aubrey had stayed in the cab, headed for Old Compton Street and Jess. She on the other hand was ready for a hot steaming shower and a late-afternoon nap. After closing the door behind her with the loud clunk of the ancient latch, the howl of rain and wind dropped appreciably. She stopped in front of the hall mirror; her hair was disheveled by the wind but, thanks to wearing minimal makeup, her face was still clean and fresh.
Behind her reflection stood the basement door—dark paneled wood, almost invisible within the Georgian carpentry beneath the stair, except for its black metal knob and the light seeping through the cracks. She thought it odd that the ligh
