Parker scribbled down the information that he needed and went back downstairs. A police siren whizzed past the window and he briefly caught his breath. They wouldn’t find him here; this house had been in the family for generations and his now dead grandfather was even less fond of the authorities than Parker had been. It was registered under a trust and had no named connection to the family at all. If the police looked it up, the owner was a local solicitor who had strict instructions not to disclose who the real owners were. Of course, when the property changed hands and Parker inherited the house, he had to pay restitution to the solicitor to keep the arrangement in place. He knew it wouldn’t be an issue, as any person his grandfather was dealing with was more than likely corrupt and so all he had to do was find out where the corruption was and make sure the solicitor knew he was aware. As it happened, the solicitor was more than happy to take the bribe even without the threat of exposure, although Parker was sure that didn’t hurt.

The kitchen had Italian marble floors in black-and-white tile and a deep French grey on the bespoke units. The conservatory backed onto the kitchen and the blocked stained glass was the only real colour in the room. The cupboards were full of the same crockery his grandfather had left behind. He found a tin of tomato soup and opened it, drinking the contents cold and straight from the can. He had no desire to stay in this room any longer than necessary, but he was hungry; late nights and lack of sleep were catching up to him. He saw the knife block by the side of the sink and instinctively rubbed the silky line on the back of his hand. The gash in the oak worktop was still there from when his grandfather had driven a knife through his hand and pinned him there to punish him for drinking a second glass of water. Grandfather was all about discipline.

Parker left the kitchen with a full stomach – an unusual feeling for him in this house. He turned the hall lights off again, wanting to soak in the feeling of the house in the dark, no longer afraid of it now that he had been inside for a while. The silence confirmed that he was the only occupant and that his grandfather was indeed dead. Even though he had been gone for several years now, his presence in this house was a constant. Every time Parker walked into a room here, he half expected his grandfather to be sitting there. When he was still alive, Parker had sometimes crept through the building at night when his grandfather had fallen asleep before remembering to lock him in his room. He knew every corner, every scuff on the floorboards, every loose thread on the rugs. He would return to his room before his grandfather awoke, too afraid to run away.