12
Mitchell drove through the ruins of the gate Oliver Ryder had smashed and brought the car to a stop in front of the Wright farmhouse. Together, he and Melissa quickly got out and looked around; Ryder’s car was a short distance away, the driver’s door standing open, suggesting he had abandoned it the moment he reached the yard, but of Ryder himself, there was no sign.
“That didn’t sound like Ollie or Kieran,” Melissa said when a scream sounded from the house. Hurrying around the car, she could make for the front door, which stood ajar.
“I know, it sounded like a girl,” Mitchell said, unhappy with the development. “You take the front, I’ll go round the back; give me a minute to get there, then we’ll both go in.”
Melissa could not remember a longer minute. The moment she reached sixty
