"Shaun Hutson - Stolen Angels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hutson Shaun)

He'd thought, when he first met her, that she was the most beautiful woman
he'd ever seen, and even now,
after eight years of marriage, he still thought the same way. She was perfect.
And she'd look even more perfect in this silk stuff, he thought to himself,
glancing down at his briefcase as if the underwear inside were some kind of
illicit secret which only he knew about.
He heard a rumble, felt a blast of warm air from the tunnel mouth, smelled its
familiar odour of dust and metal.
The train was coming.
About bloody time.
The mass of people on the platform prepared itself for the impending squeeze
onto the tube, ready to fill every available gap.
Hyde saw lights in the tunnel, heard the rumbling grow louder.
Soon be home now.
The train burst from the tunnel like some oversized, jet-propelled worm, the
blast filling the station.
Hyde thought about Maggie and smiled.
He was still smiling when he threw himself in front of the train.
Two
Manchester
In less than two hours it would be dark.
She feared the coming of the night but she also knew that she would be away
from this place by then.
Away from them.
Shanine Connor pushed a pair of leggings into the hold-all, cramming trainers,
knickers and T-shirts in with them. There was no order to her packing, she
merely shoved in whichever item came to hand next.
She hurried through to the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush and
toothpaste, which she pushed into a plastic bag, before dropping that into the
bag along with her clothes.
As she crossed in front of the window she paused to look out, ensuring that
she was hidden from any prying eyes by the sheet of unwashed nylon that passed
for a net curtain. She could see no movement on the ground floor, three
storeys beneath her own flat. A couple of kids were kicking a ball about in
the small playground over the road. Another child, no more than seven, was
trundling around happily on a tricycle, careful to avoid the football which
was bouncing back and forth.
She spotted a car parked a little way down the road and screwed up her eyes in
an effort to see inside it.
It seemed to be empty.
She swallowed hard.
Could she be sure?
For interminable seconds she stood squinting at the stationary vehicle - then
the moment passed and she remembered the urgency of her situation.
She hurried back into the kitchen and pulled open a drawer, scanning its
contents.
She pulled out a long-bladed carving knife, hefting it before her, satisfied
with its weight.
As she turned to go back into the sitting room she caught sight of her
reflection in the mirror on the wall above the Formica-topped table.