Copycat: The unputdownable new thriller from the bestselling author of After Anna. Alex Lake

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       9

      Ben’s car was in the driveway when she pulled up. She could hear the kids playing in the backyard.

      She went into the house and walked through to the kitchen. Ben was closing the oven door.

      ‘Baked potatoes,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘I’ll make some burgers on the grill.’

      ‘I didn’t know we were having burgers,’ Sarah said.

      ‘I needed to distract the kids,’ Ben replied.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘We had a bit of a nasty surprise when we got home.’

      Sarah’s mouth went dry. She felt the blood rush from her face. What now? What had Fake Sarah done now?

      ‘What kind of surprise?’ she said, her voice little more than a croak.

      ‘Are you OK?’ Ben said.

      She wasn’t, but she nodded. ‘What surprise?’

      ‘There was a dead fish floating in a bag,’ he said. ‘At first they were excited when they saw it, then they started to ask why it wasn’t swimming. They figured it out pretty quickly. Faye had a bit of a meltdown. Hence the burgers. I promised bacon and avocado on top as well.’

      Sarah relaxed, a little. ‘A dead fish is all?’ she said. ‘I thought – I thought it might be worse.’

      ‘Worse?’ Ben said. ‘Why were you expecting worse?’

      The skin around Sarah’s eyes tightened and she felt her mouth begin to tremble. ‘It – it happened again,’ she said. ‘A post. About the goldfish.’

      ‘On the fake Facebook account?’

      She nodded. ‘They posted about the fish I bought at lunchtime.’

      Ben straightened. ‘They did? How did they know?’

      ‘I don’t know. They must – they must have been following me.’

      ‘Shit,’ Ben said. ‘If this is someone’s idea of a joke, then it’s not funny.’

      ‘It’s not a joke, Ben. None of my friends would do this.’

      ‘Then who?’ he said. ‘Who would have been following you?’

      ‘I have no idea.’

      She called Toni when the kids were in bed.

      ‘Hey,’ Toni said. ‘How are you?’

      ‘Good,’ Sarah said. ‘Well, kind of. But I’ll get to that in a bit. How are you holding up?’

      Toni had separated from her husband, Joe, six months earlier and was in the process of getting divorced. They’d met when she was thirty-two and she had married him despite her – and her friends’ – misgivings. He was tall, good-looking, well-dressed and had a whiff of the snake-oil salesman about him. It was his shoes which had put Sarah off: every time she saw him he was wearing a new pair, and they were always meticulously shined or brushed or cleaned. Ben had good shoes, solid English brogues from Church’s or Loake, but they had a reassuringly scuffed appearance. From time to time he polished them, but only when necessary. He didn’t want to polish them; he had better things to be doing. But Joe must have spent hours on his shoes and clothes and hair. It was, as far as Sarah was concerned, a bit suspicious. It couldn’t all be for Toni’s benefit.

      And it turned out it wasn’t. Joe was having a series of affairs with women who worked in his office. One, Toni might have forgiven. Six or seven was too much.

      ‘The divorce comes through in a fortnight,’ Toni said. ‘Can’t wait.’

      ‘It’ll be good to get it over with. You been busy?’

      ‘Oh yeah. My life is a laugh a minute. All I need is to get all the hot twenty-six-year-old firemen to leave me alone so I have time to write my novel and then I’ll be OK. But enough about my amazing life. How are you?’

      ‘Well,’ Sarah said. ‘There has been some weird stuff going on.’

      ‘Don’t tell me Ben is having an affair. I couldn’t take it. Not Ben. He’s too boring.’

      ‘He’s not boring!’ Sarah paused. ‘OK, well maybe. But no. It’s not an affair. It’s – there’s a Facebook account. In my name. It’s easier if I send it to you. Let me know when you have it.’

      She messaged a link to Toni.

      ‘Here it is,’ Toni said. ‘I’ll bring it up.’ There was a pause. ‘OK, got it on my screen now. There you are, posting stuff. What’s the big deal?’

      ‘The big deal is, it wasn’t me who posted it. Any of it.’

      ‘What do you mean? These are your photos. There’s one of us in Portland with Anne.’

      ‘I didn’t post them,’ Sarah said. ‘That isn’t my account. It’s someone else’s, someone who has been posting photos of me, under my name. And there’s one from inside the house.’

      There was a sharp intake of breath.

      ‘You didn’t do this?’ Toni said. ‘This is crazy.’

      ‘It isn’t’ – Sarah hesitated, but she had to ask – ‘it’s not you, is it?’

      ‘What? Why would it be me?’

      ‘You do have a track record of pranking people, СКАЧАТЬ