Her Deadly Secret: A gripping psychological thriller with twists that will take your breath away. Chris Curran

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       Chapter One

       Joe

      As the police car brought him home, Joe saw a crowd outside and the cameras started up again. He still had black spots in front of his eyes from the last lot.

      It was nearly midsummer, so still daylight at seven in the evening, and coming through the estate he’d noticed how run-down the area looked and realized their own house must seem no better. He had been doing it up, hoping to sell and move somewhere nicer, but he’d been away a lot recently. So the paintwork was peeling on the old front door and the bricks he’d bought to rebuild a wall were piled under the window. Lit up by those harsh flashes, with the knot of people crowding round the gate, it looked not half-finished but neglected.

      The kind of place where bad things happen.

      He’d used the word exhausted before, coming home from a surveying job at the other end of the country, but this was different. His whole body ached with it. He’d spent two nights driving around Swindon and, when it became light, walking the streets. He’d scoured the parks, getting funny looks from joggers and women with pushchairs, aware he must look half-mad.

      The way Hannah was going on didn’t help. She stayed in her dressing gown the whole time, lying on the bed, or sitting at the kitchen table. When he tried to hold her she kept herself stiff, arms by her sides. He talked and talked, telling her where he’d been and what he planned to do next. Instead of speaking she pushed plates of toast or sandwiches in front of him and left him to it. When he did crawl into bed with her for a few minutes she turned away or got up and went downstairs.

      At first, the police didn’t seem to take Lily’s disappearance seriously. Hannah had rung him about half past six that night in a panic. Lily was never late back from school and none of her friends had seen her. He’d driven fast, and as soon as he’d got in, dialled 999, and a patrol car came round. But the two uniforms seemed to think it was normal for a 14-year-old to stay out late without letting anyone know. Said they’d ‘look into it’, whatever that meant.

      On the third day, they came back; three of them this time. He recognized the black woman constable from that first night, even though she was no longer in uniform. The one in charge introduced himself as Detective Chief Inspector Philips, and explained that Loretta was now their Family Liaison Officer. The woman nodded at Joe, her expression telling him she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and went upstairs to see Hannah.

      Philips said they now had to treat ‘the disappearance’ very seriously. ‘The likelihood is that she’s gone off somewhere. Maybe something’s upset her or she thinks she’s in trouble, but we need to find her as soon as possible.’

      They asked him lots of questions about Lily. How did she get on at school; did she have a boyfriend? He answered as best he could, but too often found himself saying stupid things like, ‘You’d better ask her mum about that.’ All he wanted was to get out again. To do something. Anything but sit here with them watching him. He knew he was fidgeting as he tried to hear the voices upstairs, anxious in case Hannah’s answers were different from his, but he couldn’t help it.

      Philips suggested a TV appeal. ‘If there’s still no sign of her by then. I’ll be with you and I can help you with what to say.’

      Of course he agreed, and they said Hannah should be there too. She wouldn’t have to speak if she was too upset. But when the policewoman came down she gave the inspector a look and said Hannah wouldn’t do it; nothing could persuade her.

      He’d hated doing the appeal and now, as they got out of the car, Philips told him to ignore the reporters. It wasn’t easy with all the cameras and with microphones shoved in his face, one of them knocking against his mouth. Philips stood close to him, and the smell of his sickly aftershave, which had bothered Joe all evening, was very strong. He turned away, preferring the whiff of BO and damp cloth coming from the crowd.

      ‘Clear the way now. Let us through. Mr Marsden has nothing more to say.’ Philips pushed them both forward, and Joe took the chance to stab his elbow into the guy with the microphone.

      The Family Liaison Officer, the one they were apparently meant to call Loretta, was with Hannah at the kitchen table. Hannah didn’t even look up let alone ask how it had gone. Why was she leaving it all to him? Couldn’t she see he needed her?

      Philips said, ‘Excuse me, Joe,’ and fumbled in his pocket as his phone chirruped. He kept calling Joe by his first name, even though he hadn’t asked if that was OK and hadn’t offered his own. He turned away muttering into the phone, and Hannah was suddenly standing, brushing off Loretta’s hand and walking towards Joe.

      He felt the tears he’d been holding back for so long shift, a lump of rock in his throat, and he moved forward wanting only to cry at last in the warmth of her arms.

      But she was looking past him. And her face was terrible. And Joe saw Philips. Saw the tight line of his mouth, the slight shake of his head as he looked over Hannah’s head at the policewoman.

      The world stopped. Something hammered in his ears. There was an agony in his throat, and the kitchen had turned into a shimmering photograph; a place he didn’t know.

      And in front of him – Hannah. Pale mouth stretched wide with no СКАЧАТЬ