Warhol's Prophecy

63

FOR INTERMINABLE SECONDS, Hailey stood motionless in the centre of the kitchen.

The silence seemed to crowd in on her until the only thing she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears.

She swallowed hard and looked around.

There didn’t appear to be anything missing. And if someone had broken into the house, they had been very careful. Even the crockery on the draining board close to the open window didn’t seem to have been disturbed.

Hailey moved back into the hall.

She glanced across at the phone.

Call the police. Do it now!

Instead she passed through into the sitting room, the breath now catching in her throat.

What if the intruder was still inside the house?

Intruder?

Even the word frightened her.

There was so much to steal.

TV. Video. Stereo.

She pushed open the sitting-room door.

It was as neat and tidy as it had been when she’d left earlier in the day.

The television still occupied its usual position in one corner of the room. The VCR was still beneath it. Untouched.

Hailey took a couple of steps inside the room, glancing round to make an inventory of their other possessions.

Nothing was missing.

Except . . .

There was something, but she couldn’t quite work out what it was.

Something was missing, but . . .

She noticed some mud on the carpet close to the sofa.

Brought in on the shoes of the intruder?

She looked around the room again.

Call the police. For Christ’s sake, call the police!

Someone had definitely been inside the room, and yet it remained undisturbed.

She spun round, passed through the hall and began climbing the stairs, cursing every creaky one.

Slowly she made her way towards the landing, ears alert for the slightest sound from above.

If the intruder was still inside the house . . .

Above her, a floorboard groaned protestingly.

Didn’t it?

She froze, straining her ears.

Outside, the wind was gathering ferocity as it swept around the house.

Perhaps it hadn’t been a floorboard she’d heard. It must be some trick of that violent wind.

Of her mind?

Hailey waited a moment longer, then began to climb the last few steps to the landing.

When she reached it, she stopped again. She glanced at the four firmly closed doors that confronted her.

More mud on the carpet close to one of the guest rooms.

She remained motionless.

Hailey was having trouble controlling her own breathing now.

Which room first?

She crossed to the guest room which had mud trodden into the carpet outside it.

She waited a moment, then pushed the door open.

It swung back on its hinges and she peered in.

Everything in its place. Untouched.

Nothing stolen.

She quickly checked the second guest room.

Also nothing missing.

Hailey moved towards the master bedroom she and Rob slept in, moving as quietly as she could across the groaning floorboards of the landing.

She pushed the door gently and stepped inside.

More mud inside this room, trodden into the thick-pile carpet.

Hailey tried to swallow, but her throat was dry.

Then she saw the heads.