As she went to go to the phone, she heard it.
Not an explosion this time, a voice. Not even a voice. A low moan. She turned off the kettle as it drew close to the boil, waited and listened and waited, holding her breath.
It came again, very faint but there nevertheless. A definite moan. Very carefully, she reached beside the kettle and picked off a carving knife from the magnetic holder on the wall above the cooker. She didn’t have a clue what she would do with such a thing, but it made her feel a little more secure. Her improvised weapon didn’t prevent her hand from shaking however as she padded down the hallway to the door. She put her ear against the timbers. She’d be a fool to go out and investigate, she knew that. What if it was a trick, someone luring her out to then attack her, br
