23
After checking from all the windows on the first floor that weren’t covered by the vines that had overgrown the house, Kurt left. He scratched himself on the brambles that encroached on the rear door, but ignored the lines of blood that ran down his arm and hand, a few minor injuries were a small price to pay for a hide-out that just about no-one was going to believe was being used.
The cemetery was as empty as it had looked from inside the house, and he strode away, confident he hadn’t been seen. He saw no-one until he was through the wrought-iron gates and on the street, by which time there was no need for him to worry about being seen because he wasn’t doing anything that anyone might consider suspicious.
A ten-minute walk brought him to the Asda where he had left his car. He made
