Page 65 of Stolen Ones
‘Four to five,’ he answered as they approached the property along a sweeping gravel road to a circular raised lawn placed perfectly central to the front of the house.
‘Make that closer to five,’ Bryant said as a stable block and coach house came into view.
‘It’s a good-looking house,’ she observed. ‘And it’s going to take a while to search thoroughly.’
‘Master of the understatement there, guv,’ he said, pulling up in front of the white-painted Regency property.
A double green door had been removed, and Mitch stood suited and booted, ready to enter.
She got out of the car and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the house and its surroundings. A total of twelve arched windows graced the front of the property.
‘Grade II Regency Gothic,’ Mitch said, walking towards her with his phone. ‘Last sold twenty-five years ago for half a million but probably now worth closer to five.’
Bryant smiled smugly.
‘What else does Rightmove tell you?’ Kim asked, approaching the front door.
‘That it has ten bedrooms, five bathrooms, a good few reception rooms and a cellar.’
‘You got the floor plan of when it was sold back then?’
Mitch nodded.
‘Text the link to me and to Bryant as well,’ she said, stepping inside the property. ‘And get to the cellar as quickly as you can.’
The hallway was a stunning space, lovingly restored, with a geometrically tiled floor and high ceilings.
‘Bloody hell,’ Bryant said from behind.
Kim pulled her gaze away from the ornate cornicing and delicate ceiling roses. They weren’t here to appreciate the property’s beauty.
‘Okay, you take upstairs,’ she instructed Bryant as both their phones tinged receipt of a message from Mitch, who was briefing members of his team who had just arrived.
‘If I’m not back in an hour, it’s because I’ve moved in.’
Kim laughed as she took the pair of gloves being offered but she completely understood his sentiment.
Despite it being a grand sprawling property, there was something comfortable and welcoming. It had been restored to its former glory without being overdone. There was no unnecessary grandeur. Surprisingly, it was still a home.
For one person, she reminded herself. This was all for one man who lived alone and wasn’t known to have formed any romantic attachments in the last thirty years.
‘Don’t forget to look for CCTV equipment,’ she called as Bryant headed for the stairs.
A wave over his shoulder showed he’d heard.
She loaded the floor plan to her phone and got her bearings.
Surely, Grace was here somewhere. She prayed they were going to come across a locked room and behind it would be a little girl, perhaps frightened, disoriented but alive and unharmed.
She took the first left into the dining room. The easy, gentle theme of the hallway flowed perfectly into the next space.
She walked the room, opening and closing drawers and cupboards, her analytical eye looking for anything out of place. This was an initial cursory search but she didn’t want to miss anything. The hardwood floors guided her back to the hallway.
She worked her way through the sitting room, a cloakroom, drawing room, music room and snug, looking for anything obvious but she couldn’t help noticing the floor-length curtains, the intricate pelmets, the ornate cornicing and delicate chandeliers. Every room had a spectacular view of the surrounding land.
By the time she reached the kitchen, her hopes of finding Grace were dwindling. She opened the door of the double fridge and freezer. Both of his earlier victims had been taken care of with one hot meal, sandwiches, drinks and occasional sweets. It was the greenest, leafiest fridge she’d ever seen. It looked nothing like her own, which held a half tub of Lurpak butter, a few cheeses and her one nod to good health, which was a few small bottles of Actimel.
She saw no evidence of feeding a child.
