Read Truth Dare Kill for Free Online

holiday, an essential respite for recovery and in some cases, resurrection.
    I seemed to have drunk more than I thought last night. My cure is fresh air, so I decided to take a walk. As I stepped out the door, the cold hit me. The wireless had warned that the temperature would drop, but the frigid air stung my lungs and set me into a coughing fit. I went back up for a scarf and gloves and set out again. I like walking, even though it makes my leg hurt. When your world is defined by barbed wire and machine gun towers, the sense of exhilaration at being able to stroll without being shouted at or fired at runs deep. It was only slowly that I realised that in a haphazard way I was looking for her. I’d known her only one night. I’d slept beside her, but not made love to her. But already I missed her. I didn’t know I was missing somebody. I didn’t know where she lived or how to get in touch. So much for my detective skills. I’m an idiot. I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. Was I just a warm bed at a bad time for her? A new year flirt?
    This was stupid, a kid’s game. And I was in no state – mental or physical – to be thinking about acquiring a girlfriend. I had other ways of dealing with my basic needs. I could do nothing, so I decided to turn my walk into something with a purpose. I’d visit Kate Graveney’s scene of crime, if there was a crime.
    The arctic wind burgled its way inside my coat. I adjusted the scarf and pushed my hat on more firmly. At least the sky was clearing. There was even some blue to the west. I willed it my way.
    I put in some zigzags round the back streets aiming to pick up Kennington Lane.
    Away from the main arteries that fed the City and the West End, the streets were quieter. When I met another walker we touched hats and wished each other a happy new year. I passed boarded windows on bomb-damaged streets, and one huge crater that they hadn’t got around to filling in. Surprising really, given the amount of material lying around. I crossed the river at Vauxhall, heading into Pimlico.
    There didn’t seem to be as much damage here: no factories or docks to blitz.
    Though lord knows how they missed the twin legs of Battersea Power Station. They say they’ll build another pair alongside, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It would look funny, like a table on its back. The streets were busier now, shoppers queuing for mean lumps of cheese or slivers of meat, cars rumbling along chased by their own exhaust clouds.
    I was getting good and warm now and could open my coat collar a bit. I thought about the two women I’d met last night. The contrast. The accident of birth and where it leads you. I could guess how growing up was for Val, but I had absolutely no idea how it was for Kate. Money and position make everything possible. I wasn’t jealous, just curious, as you would be for another species.
    Even that little blink of fear I’d seen in Kate’s eyes when she saw my scar had been quickly controlled – mustn’t show emotions in front of the servants.
    But at least I knew how to contact Kate Graveney. I had her phone number, somewhere in Chelsea – of course. I was to call her the moment I heard anything.
    With Val – Valerie Brown; I rolled the syllables in my mouth – I had nothing, and the thought of not seeing her again filled my day with a shadow that had nothing to do with the weather.
    I came into Lupus Street and began looking for my number. I didn’t have to do much counting. I could see the gap from the corner. I walked closer but stayed on the other side of the street sizing it up. It was as though a giant bread knife had taken out a clean slice, leaving the buildings either side untouched.
    I guess all the terrace buildings had been constructed one by one. I walked over. There was still some rubble in the back garden. Bare trees stood at the end, and an old shed. What was I looking for? A pair of feet sticking out of the debris? I walked into the garden. The grass was sodden and