Beneath the tears he could tell she was attractive. She smelled of perfume. But she was a pitiful sight with her raw eyes and streaked mascara. ‘Who else is in the house?’ he demanded. ‘Nobody,’ she breathed. Sam heard a trace of a Northern Irish accent in her voice. He waited a couple of seconds and then, with a sudden movement, pulled out his handgun and held it to the side of her head. ‘Who else is in the house?’ ‘Oh, God . . .’ The woman’s knees buckled. ‘Nobody. I swear. Oh, sweet Jesus, I swear . . .’ Sam narrowed his eyes. She was telling the truth. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Get back in there. I’ll be right behind you. If you shout for help, I’ll shoot. Do you understand?’ No reply. Just a trembling wreck of a human being. ‘I said, do you understand?’ ‘Yes,’ she whispered. He nodded at her and stepped aside. With shaky, nervous steps the woman moved into her garden. The back door to her house was still open, but there were no lights on inside.
