43
Slim stared up at Celia’s window while the rain pattered around him. The curtains were drawn, no lights on, no sign of either car he had known her to drive.
She hadn’t answered when he rang the bell, neither when he tried the phone. A couple of neighbours he had spoken to claimed not to have contact with her, that she was secretive, kept herself to herself. It wasn’t a surprise to Slim, who had never made any attempt to associate with his own neighbours in times past, and rarely they with him.
It did nothing to allay his fears, though, and his concern for Celia’s welfare was growing.
For the first time, he entertained the possibility that his digging might have stirred up too many bees, that someone dangerous was no longer dormant and was stalking the streets.
He headed for the tow
