It’s a gentle knocking; rhythmic. As I near Finley’s room, the noise is clearer. His door is ajar, so I peek through the gap. My mouth is dry, my saliva evaporated. I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m confronted by someone in there. I can only see part of his room: the desk, the left half of the bed. Do I go with whacking the door open so I have the element of surprise? Or, push the door gently open a tiny bit more to get a better view before making my move? My heart is banging so hard against my ribs, adrenaline takes over and I slam the door open with my shoulder. The noise I hear is my own war cry as I rush inside, my knife-wielding hand jutting out in front of me.

The room is empty.

I lower my hand, the knife touching my thigh, as I attempt to regain control of my breathing.

Finley’s room might be empty, but I can still hear a knocking noise. I walk over to the wall that adjoins with the neighbour’s and press my ear against it. The noise is from next door. But no one’s living there – it’s completely empty. Maybe it’s their central-heating pipes making a knocking sound as they heat up and cool down. As I relax, confident that’s probably what it is, the noise ceases. How strange. And the question of why Maggie would have left the central heating going anyway shoots through my mind.

I make my way back downstairs. I have to hold on to the bannister, my legs are shaking so much. I remember the obstructed SmartRing app. Now I know I’m safe from any internal intruder, I open the front door to see if someone is standing there or has put something in front of the bell.

There’s nothing blocking it.

It’s broken.

Someone has smashed my doorbell.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Amber