“As we approached, I stared out at the playground on the right. It was empty today. While the media had retreated from the boarded-up cottage, the police tape remained, and I imagined local residents would feel uneasy bringing their children to a place so obviously tainted. A monster lived nearby. And perhaps one still did. Even without him, Johnson’s cottage remained an awkward, uncomfortable sight: a wedge of darkness amidst the green, sunlit surroundings. I made a mental note to have somebody... check that the place was secure, but as we passed it, my thoughts remained with the playground behind. A monster lives nearby. There was something about it. I just couldn’t work out what. We turned down into the heart of Horsley. The old stone cottages along the main road wore the early afternoon’s sun well. With the window down, and my arm resting on the sill, we drove past the two pubs at the centre of the village, and then turned left on to the road where Amanda Jarman had lived with her husband, Michael.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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