About the Author

D. E. WHITE started writing fifteen years ago, scribbling ideas on napkins at work on the night shift. After various jobs, including working as cabin crew, in a hospital, a supermarket, and as a 999 call handler for the ambulance service, she began writing full time in 2018.

She is a multi-award-winning entrepreneur, and was part of a small business delegation speaking at Number 10, Downing Street in 2015.

Having spent a lot of time travelling the world, she now lives with her husband and two sons on the south coast of the UK, with a growing assortment of animals and several stick insects.

Visit D. E. White at daisywhiteauthor.co.uk

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‘Absolutely loved this book, brilliantly written and kept you guessing and on the edge until quite near the end’

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‘An excellent, compelling read that had me gripped and reading long into the night when I should have already turned the light out’

Also by D. E. White

Remember Me

The Forgotten Child
D. E. WHITE

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright © D. E. White 2019

D. E. White asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008318802

Version: 2019-08-27

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Readers Love D. E. White

Also by D. E. White

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Extract

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For my single mum friends – you are awesome!

Chapter 1

‘Milo, can you turn your game down, just for a bit please?’

‘Can’t hear you, Mum. What?’

Holly took a deep breath, swallowing the tears, trying not to glance at the text message on her phone. She, of all people, should have known better, but the words seemed to burn into her brain, ‘Milo, please turn it down.’ Better, that sounded calmer, she thought, and he was still so engrossed he would hopefully miss the fact she was upset. His life had been torn apart enough recently.

In the mirror she could see his little face, his mop of blonde hair, freckles dusting his nose, and the smear of mud across his forehead. The electronic bleeping toned down a notch and she took another long, shaky breath. He glanced up quickly, and grinned at her reflection, before returning to his dragons.

The traffic was horrendous, and at five o’clock on a filthy wet February night, the darkness had already closed in. In an effort to distract herself Holly moved her phone further into her bag, so she couldn’t see the screen, and turned the radio on. Beyoncé filled the car with ‘If I were a Boy’, and she almost smiled, trying to relax the coils of tension that seemed to be wound like snakes around her torso, squeezing her stomach painfully. It was a favourite song, and Holly determinedly sang along under her breath. She had this under control.

The car in front braked again, and the long line of red lights strung out into the night like a strand of Christmas decorations. The pain of last Christmas would stay with her forever. Even now she could still hear her own voice, telling him exactly what she thought of men who played away … For months she had ignored that nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right, the fact that he kept jumping on his phone, shouting at her for silly little things around the house.

Finally she had actually answered his mobile when Beth called. He had been in the shower, thinking she was downstairs getting Milo’s tea, and had left his phone on the pillow. The other girl had put the phone down as soon as Holly identified herself, but she took the opportunity to scroll through his pictures. It was enough.

Tom had been outraged when she chucked him out of the house, telling her she was crazy and deluded, even suggesting she needed help. Fucking bastard. She would need to fight Tom to have Milo stay with her. So be it, he was the shit who had been unfaithful, although his family later implied if Holly had been a better wife, he wouldn’t have needed to sleep with someone else. Fuck them all.

The next turning was normally a longer way home, and the roads were narrow, winding through steep woodland towards the coastal town, but anything was better than this motorway hell. She indicated, and neatly extracted herself from the queues. Holly was a good driver, a safe driver, but tonight she was exhausted. Work had been tough recently. It always was, but in the winter months, getting out of bed at 4 a.m. for an early shift, or returning home at 7 a.m. after a night shift, took dedication. It also took epic childcare organisation when you were a single mum.

Leaving the other cars behind she swung left at the roundabout, avoiding a daredevil motorcyclist, who was taking the bend at high speed, and turned down Mill Road. A couple of other cars and a van were on the roundabout, and maybe a couple more queued behind her. The usual evening traffic. Mill Road would take her all the way to Panfield, and from there to Westbourne and home.

Holly’s shoulders sagged a little as she relaxed, watching her headlights slash a path through the darkness. It was going to be all right. She glanced in the mirror again, but this time took in her pale, exhausted reflection. Her green eyes were edged with shadows and her long black hair hung heavy around her face.

‘Mum, I’m hungry!’

‘Look in the blue bag. There was a bar, and some crisps, if you haven’t eaten them already … We’re nearly home.’

‘I ate them,’ Milo informed her. ‘I shared them with Becky. Can we stop at McDonald’s?’

‘No. We aren’t going that way. Look, sweetie, can you just cope until we get home? There’s a stew I put in before we left. It’s your favourite,’ she said encouragingly. There was another car taking the bend behind her, its headlights in her mirror making her blink. She didn’t really like driving in the dark anymore. Maybe she was getting old.

‘Did you put my hoodie in the boot?’

‘Yes. It was all muddy. Why?’

‘I left some sweets in the pocket. Coach said we were so good he gave us all some Haribo, and I forgot to eat mine. Can I climb over and get them out?’

‘No. Sorry, darling, but can you just last out?’

‘No. I’m starving. I scored four tries today.’

‘I know, and I’m super proud of you …’ The car behind was far too close, right on her tail. She accelerated a bit, but the road glistened wet and dangerous, and she knew there were a few hairpin bends coming up. Her jumper clung to her back, her T-shirt wet with sweat now, the sour, icy sweat of fear. She muttered, cursing the driver.

‘What arsehole needs to get back, Mum?’

‘Sorry, bad word. The person behind us is a bit close, that’s all.’

‘I’m still hungry.’

Hidden in her bag, Holly’s phone beeped with another text. Her hands were shaking again, clenched on the wheel, panic rising in her chest. Why couldn’t he just fucking leave her alone? He had what he wanted … But he didn’t have everything he wanted.

The other car was so close now, its lights were almost blinding her. She moved her rear-view mirror to one side, taking the reflection away from her eyes. Was the driver flashing his lights?

No other traffic, the rain was hammering down now, and the shadowy forms of tree trunks like cage bars on the high banks either side of the road. It wasn’t like she was going exceptionally slowly … Forcing herself to stay calm, she navigated the two sharp bends, before she noticed movement in the back. Milo’s legs were waving in the air as he nosedived into the boot, clearly in search of food.

‘Milo! Get back to the seat and strap yourself in,’ she yelled.

‘I’m just getting …’

‘No! Sit down.’

She risked another glance. He was climbing back now, bag of sweets firmly clasped in one hand. She should pull over … But the other driver was still so close. She even thought he was flashing his lights again – once, twice. Did he want her to pull over? Was there something wrong with the car, or was this just a ploy to get her to stop? On this lonely road in the darkness, there was no fucking way she was stopping unless she had to. Maybe she should call the police. A wave of fear ripped through her body, made her gasp, but again she forced herself to calm down. She was just tired, stressed out. It was only some fuckwit who wanted to get home quicker. There was no way of overtaking in this tiny lane. He could just wait. It was bound to be a man …

Milo landed back in his seat with a thump. ‘My seatbelt’s all twisted.’

‘Well, untwist it.’ She shot out from the tree cover and accelerated along a straighter bit of road. There was a long drop on one side now, which eased the claustrophobic feeling, but the car behind stayed on her tail. The lights seemed to flash again, making her blink. They were going around corners at speed, and the headlights of both vehicles were slashing through the shadows, bouncing off the blackness. She slowed a fraction to take in another hairpin bend. At any moment he was going to touch her bumper. But she didn’t have her hands-free kit with her, and she wasn’t going to stop and get carjacked or worse.

Carefully now, considering the options, she reached over and eased her phone out of her bag, placing it between her knees. What if this was more than some idiot trying to race home? What if the driver behind succumbed to some kind of road rage and actually tried to bump her car?

Holly risked another quick glance at Milo and slowed. To her relief, the other car drew back a little, but she kept the phone where it was. As she wondered if she was actually freaked enough to call the police, it beeped again and the screen flashed up another message:

You aren’t fit to be a mother, bitch.

The abusive tone was exactly the same. Why would he send her something like that? Holly shivered, swinging round the next corner, wincing as the driver behind kept pace, his headlights almost blinding her. Her windscreen wipers whined as she turned them up to max, trying to clear the torrent of rain. Desperate now, her shaking fingers were fumbling with her phone, trying to press the buttons.

Lights blinded her in an eerie white flash as another vehicle approached at high speed, from the opposite direction. She thought it was a van, and the driver was making no effort to pull over to his side of the road, but continued to aim straight at Holly. She hit her horn, hard, driving as close to the side of the road as she dared. The wheels crunched on grit and she felt the pull of mud on the tyres, as they swung off course. She yanked the wheel, her phone tumbling into the footwell as she straightened the car. Missing her by a hairsbreadth the other vehicle stormed past, away and up the hill, red brake lights flashing before it vanished. Holly slowed again, shaking.

The car behind hit her with a bang. The force of impact jolted her violently forward, before flinging her back against the headrest.

‘Milo? Are you okay?’ They were still moving, slowly but she didn’t dare stop. Her neck was twanging with pain.

‘Mum, what’s happened? Did we crash? Mum!’ His voice was sharp with fear.

Holly’s heart was racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and her head was pounding. What the fuck was going on tonight? She glanced back at her son, opened her mouth to say everything was fine, and at the same time tried to kick her mobile away from the accelerator pedal where it had fallen.

Milo screamed out a warning, high-pitched and terrified, ‘Mum, stop! There’s a deer!’

A dark shadow plunged across the road, its eyes briefly illuminated by her headlights, before Holly hit the brakes as hard as she could. The car swung from side to side, before it aquaplaned across the road, and for the second time, she felt the impact of the car behind. She was yelling for Milo, hands locked on the wheel, still fighting with the vehicle, as they slid off the road, and the car began to tumble down the long slope to the woods below.

It was a kaleidoscope of pain and blurred shadows. She screamed at Milo to get down, and ducked her own head, closing her eyes. There was a sharp pain, and then a bang in front of her, and after that nothing but darkness.

***

Holly opened her eyes. The steady drum of rain on the windscreen, the stench of wet earth and trees, the stillness and the cold, took a moment to sink in. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. Her face was sticky and wet. She licked her lips, blinking. Blood. She could taste blood, sour and metallic. The rain was pouring through the shattered windscreen. Oh dear God, she had crashed the car. She had been trying to get her phone … Guilt mingled sourly with the pain, and Holly retched. The blackness spun, sending her back into her nightmare. Milo, where was Milo?

The nausea woke her properly, and she wriggled, aware of sharp stabbing pains in her neck, her back, and her chest, but ignoring them. ‘Milo!’

There was no sound from the back of the car, and she couldn’t turn any further. Panic flooded her body, hot and vicious. It gave her the strength to wrench herself free from the space between her seat and the detonated airbag. She was half kneeling now, one leg on the passenger seat, pushing away a mess of sports bags and camping gear that had been thrown from the boot. Tears and rain were washing the blood from her face, and she was shaking with the shock and cold.

The car was battered, but at least the right way up. At some point she remembered it rolling over, surely … But apart from the bonnet and windscreen, it seemed fairly intact. Some freak of engineering meant the headlights were still on, their twin beams sending dancing white paths of light into the woods. But the darkness and the shadows gathered all around the light, overwhelming it, jostling and claustrophobic.

Both windows on the right-hand side, Milo’s side, were smashed. His seatbelt was hanging free. She could see his hand, still and pale, stretched out across the seat, but she still couldn’t get far enough to see more. Her hands were shaking, but she continued to rip away the debris. As she struggled, one foot caught the driver’s door, hard, and it opened with a bang. Abandoning any thought of wriggling through the narrow space between the seats, she squeezed frantically past the airbag, out into the woods.

The rear door was stuck fast and she hauled at it with all her strength. It wouldn’t budge. Holly screamed, and the rain-savaged woods echoed with her son’s name. She kicked viciously and uselessly at the metal like an animal caught in a trap. The smell of rotten wetness, tainted with fuel fumes brought her back. She needed to keep it together. Christ knew where her phone was. The pain in her leg and chest was excruciating, but she carried on yanking the door. Inch by inch, resisting her sweaty, bloody fingers, it finally opened, slowly and with a protesting whine of metal. There were the stabbing pains in her neck and back again, but she ignored them, panting through the pain.

‘Milo!’ She was in the car now, scrabbling for his hand. ‘Milo, are you okay? Can you hear me?’ Of course he couldn’t or he would have answered, but the sound of her own voice was a small comfort in this nightmare.

Holly wriggled further across the back seats, clinging to the headrests, fumbling in the shadows. There was a torch in the towrope bag in the boot but who knew where that had ended up. Milo was half sitting, half lying on his side. There was a cut on his head, and a small stream of blood was snail-trailing down his cheek onto the seat. His small chest was rising and falling in a reassuring manner, but his skin was cold under her frantic fingertips. Where was her bloody phone?

But as Holly shoved her way further in, moving another bag out the way, she saw Milo was no longer alone in the back. Another boy, also apparently unconscious, but with no visible injuries, was sitting in the other seat. His head was lolled sideways, his face a pale blur against the shattered window.

‘What the fuck?’ Holly realised she had spoken aloud again, her words thrown into the sullen, spattering rain, echoing up to the silent trees. A ghost, it had to be a ghost, this child who had materialised inside her car. Either that or she was actually unconscious and dreaming the whole thing.

She reached a shaking hand across the car and touched the other boy. As her fingers met his cheek she had to force herself not to recoil. His skin was cold and clammy, and she thought she could see a head wound, but, as with her own child, she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Holly let out a long breath and inched back towards Milo, squeezing his limp hand, reassuring herself. A high-pitched whimpering made her jump, until she realised it was herself making animal sounds of fear. Where the fuck had he come from?

Squinting towards the road, she could just about make out the path of destruction the car had made as it left the road and hurtled into its final resting place against this cluster of giant trunks. There was no sign of the other vehicle that had rear-ended them, and no clue as to how her other passenger had arrived in her vehicle.

Realising she was wasting time staring blankly at the two children, Holly yanked herself back to reality and started yelling for help. Her cries echoed through the trees, seemingly futile in the vastness of the wood. Perhaps she should try to climb back up to the road, flag down the next car. But she seriously doubted she could make it, with the injuries that shot pain along her limbs and stabbed inside her head. Anyway, she couldn’t leave the children. Not one, but two children … She shouted again.

What if the other driver had meant to run her off the road? He could have stopped his car further along, and could be climbing down to … To what? She squinted into the shadows, icy fingers caressing her spine. Had he already been down and left another child in her car? There didn’t seem to be any other explanation, because she had sure as hell only had one passenger when she left the road.

A sound made her gasp, and it took a moment for Holly to realise it was her phone ringing. She blinked round, puzzled, finally locating the illuminated screen a few feet away half buried in the leafy forest floor. Relief flooded her body and tears coursed down her cheeks, stinging her cut face. Holly wiped them away and took a deep breath, glancing back quickly at the boys.

She staggered towards her phone, checked as an electric flash of pain reminded her she was injured, and went down on her knees to crawl instead. Every movement made her wince now, as the adrenalin wore off, and by the time her trembling hand touched the plastic casing of her phone, tears were streaking her cheeks again. The missed call was from an unknown number, and they hadn’t left a voicemail. It seemed to take ages to tap out the three digits she wanted, and all the time she stayed half sitting, half lying against a wet tree trunk, her eyes on the two children who sat so still and pale in the back seat of her car.

Finally, as she was starting to worry about the lack of phone signal, she got through to the operator, and waited again, patiently, answering the necessary questions as best she could.

In a surprisingly short time blue lights and sirens pierced the blackness. The rain was clearing, or at least she was sheltered, so deep in the woods. Holly was back at the car. With difficulty, gasping in pain at every movement, she had dragged an old picnic blanket out of the chaos, and tucked it carefully around the boys.

Checking their breathing, she wiped away the blood from Milo’s head with a folded T-shirt from his bag, careful not to move either child. The jelly sweets were strewn carelessly across the seat, and Holly bit her lip at the sight of them. Please, God, let Milo be okay …

The rear passenger seats were reasonably dry, roof still intact, but the front of the car was trashed. She couldn’t stop herself from gently touching the other boy’s cheek again, almost to reassure herself that he was actually real. This time she smoothed his hair back as she had Milo’s, and a rush of emotion hit. This poor child had been abandoned in her car. He wasn’t a ghost or a dream, but a real boy who someone had dumped in a crashed car. Perhaps whoever did it had thought she was dead, had hoped they would all die …

His hair was dark brown, and now she was closer she could see it was indeed streaked with blood from his head injury. There was something about the shape of his face that prodded her memory. Had she seen him before? He was about Milo’s age, perhaps a little older. At school, perhaps?

Shouts from the road cut into her thoughts, and soon a reassuring number of people were climbing carefully down to her car. She shouted back, in answer to their quick questions, and waited as they manoeuvred carefully through the undergrowth.

Holly stayed where she was, wincing at the clinical harshness of the floodlights, trying to ignore the pain that burned through her body. In one hand she held her son’s cold, white fingers, but her eyes still dwelt protectively on the other child as well.

Her phone, thrust deep into the pocket of her bloodied top, buzzed with a message, and automatically she drew it out with her free hand. The tone was vitriolic and the number familiar.

‘Fucking bitch.’

Chapter 2

Holly kissed Milo’s head, resting her lips on his now warm forehead for a long moment. He was still unconscious but the doctor told her the scans were clear. They just had to wait for him to wake up. His left leg was broken in two places, and the head wound required five stitches. It would leave a scar, which she knew he would be perversely pleased with. Her darling boy. Nothing else and nobody else mattered.

But even so, after checking her son was still sleeping, she wheeled herself away to ICU. The other boy was lying still and silent too. He was in a worse condition, with more severe head injuries and some swelling to the brain. She watched him through the narrow window, her brow furrowing, pressing her fingers to the glass.

Had she seen him at rugby? Or was he the kid who had a laugh with Milo in the queue at Tesco? Had she seen him at the pool? If he opened his eyes, if she could see his expression, it might fix that nagging feeling that she did recognise him. The big white clock on the wall ticked towards nine o clock. She had been up for almost twenty-four hours and her brain simply wasn’t working anymore.

The child’s long lashes and the slightly hollow cheeks gave him an air of vulnerability. She had supposed, and the doctors confirmed, he was around eleven or twelve years old, but skinny, with his bony hands lying neatly outside the white sheet. Almost too skinny for a boy his age, she thought. His dark brown hair lay tousled and greasy on the pillow around his face. There was a bruise on his cheek, and she knew he had stitches in the back of his head.

‘Who are you?’ she whispered. ‘Where did you come from?’ The dreamlike feeling of unreality had extended when Holly had been told that no missing children fitting this boy’s description had been reported in the area. He was a still a ghost child, or a phantom. Her heart wrenched to think that somewhere surely his parents were searching for him … Or was it more painful to think that they were not, that her first guess had been correct and somebody meant them to die?

Someone had dumped him in her car like an unwanted stray. It couldn’t have been premeditated, because who could have predicted the crash? Even if either of the reckless drivers from last night had intended her to drive off the road, how could they have counted on her swerving for the deer or known she’d be knocked unconscious whilst they popped another child in her car? None of it made any sense. Perhaps she was going mad. She tried to remember if she had seen anything out of the ordinary yesterday. But she was sure it had been no different to any other Sunday, right up until they drove down Mill Road.

Troubled, Holly took herself back to her son and with some difficulty transferred herself from the wheelchair to the armchair next to his bed. Her leg was bruised, with a possible torn ligament, and the wheelchair they had insisted on was only until a scan hopefully gave her the all clear. But the headache was back and she couldn’t sleep. Too many questions whirled in her brain, too many worries danced behind her eyes. She pushed back her long hair away from her face, tied it into a knot, and rubbed her sore eyes.

Holly’s phone vibrated and she snuck a guilty look at the other patients, before glancing at the illuminated screen. Messages from her friends and Aunt Lydia, but none from her ex-husband. None from her dad either, but that was hardly a shock. Lydia said she’d been round and told him what had happened. Holly knew her aunt had been hoping for a reconciliation between father and daughter for years. Donnie Hughes was slowly drinking himself to death, and hadn’t featured in her life since she’d walked out of the Seaview Estate as an emotion-driven teenager. She smoothed a thumb across the screen, thinking about her dad.

He’d tried to stop her leaving, even though he had seen what the trial did to her, seen how much she needed to escape the twisted memories and leave everything behind. Her exhausted mind drifted back to her teenage years.

‘You can’t just fucking walk away! You’re my daughter, and you’re the only one left who can take care of the business.’ Donnie had been waiting for her after the trial. It had always been ‘Donnie’. Never ‘Dad’. His voice was a pitch lower than it had been in her childhood, and he broke off to cough violently, peering down at her from under a greasy fringe. His face was ruddy, and his eyes bloodshot and hung with violet bags.

She’d gone into her room and grabbed her bags, already neatly packed and awaiting her final exit. But Holly was still shaking, still high on fear and grief, her mind replaying the judge’s words and her answers over and over, like a crazy recording she could never erase.

‘What made you think she was dead?’

‘When did you last see your brother?’

Holly had made it back down the stairs to find her dad leaning firmly against the front door, his mouth set in a scowl.

‘Get out of the way, Donnie. You didn’t even bother to come to the trial, and you don’t actually give a shit about anything except your business.’ She reached the door and extended her hand towards the handle. ‘I’ve got news for you. Your business is finished. The Nicholls have won, and all you’ve done is fuck everything up – Mum, me, Jay. You’re a sad, deluded old man.’

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The towering giant of her childhood reduced to this shuffling, glowering creature. But as she moved forward, his hand wrapped around her wrist, sweaty fingers pinching the skin.

Holly pulled away, but he held on, yanking her closer. She turned her face away from the stench of his foul breath. ‘You don’t know shit, girl. You could have been something, taken us back to where we were, and yeah, even taken on the Nicholls brothers. I know what goes on with Nicholls Transport, and the human cargo that gets stashed in the back, the girls they bring down here to work in their brothels. It’s sick, and now you’re running away from all of us. Well, don’t ever fucking come back, you useless bitch!’ He spat right in her face.

She’d stood frozen in horror, just for a second, before she wiped the glob of spittle away, warm and wet on her cheek. ‘I won’t be coming back,’ she told her father.

As he raised a hand to hit her, she snapped her wrist away, and sidestepped, already up on the balls of her feet. Years of training had made her moves instinctive. His hand whipped past and he made another futile grab at her shoulder, tearing her shirt.

Holly moved her body, jabbing with an elbow, bringing herself nearer the door, throwing the man aside with effortless ease. The horror of her dad’s words, his attack, would sink in later. She was trying to leave it all behind, but Holly was a trained fighter, and she accepted that probably wasn’t ever going to change.

Donnie collapsed, panting against the peeling wall of the hallway, yelled a few breathless obscenities after her, and she cut him off by kicking the door shut.

The heat of late afternoon had blasted through her jeans and T-shirt, and she could feel sweat beading on her face, but she’d kept on walking.

***

A nurse rattled past with the drugs trolley, jolting Holly out of the past. She glanced quickly at Milo, reassuring herself before purposely keeping her thoughts in the present. Hell, it wasn’t like there was a lack of drama here either. And a whole load of swirling fears.

Whoever the other boy was, she had still been looking at her phone moments before the crash, and driving at the same time. The guilt and anger at her own stupidity in allowing herself to be distracted by her phone made her breath short now. She was always so careful! The vicious texts danced through her brain. They had only started a couple of weeks ago, and at first she had refused to believe that Tom would be so vindictive. But now, each time they arrived, she tried to make herself pick up the phone and confront him, and each time, so far, she had funked it. She could hardly tell the police her own ex-husband was bullying her by text. It sounded so stupid, and she didn’t trust the police anyway. Well, with her upbringing, why would she?

She woke to footsteps and the curtains around Milo’s bed being drawn apart. Holly blinked hard, pushing herself upright in the chair, trying to drag herself back to consciousness.

‘Mrs Kendal, I’m DI Harper, and this is DC Marriot. If you feel up to it, we just need to ask you a few questions.’ His voice was low, rumbling, and deceptively gentle.

She got a sick feeling deep in her gut at the sound of his name, at the sight of his long face, with its sharp cheekbones and prominent beak of a nose. This couldn’t be happening. How was he still on the scene? Surely he should have retired, leaving everyone in peace by now? The long, thin nose had a dent and was twisted out of shape.

‘And you fuck off, you bloody nosy copper! My wife has been murdered and all you can do is accuse me. Go and find out who did it, because if I get there first, I’ll string them up from that tower block …’

‘We are trying, Donnie, we just need to ask a few more questions. Perhaps you should come back down to the station with us?’

The sickening crunch as her dad broke the police officer’s nose had almost been drowned by his exclamation of pain. It was fair enough, Holly had thought at the time. Bloody Harper had been sniffing around for years, chipping away at her dad’s business interests. Luckily it was only the Nicholls’ dealers that got banged up, and they deserved it.

Holly studied the familiar police officer now, this tall, gaunt man, with white tufted hair and hollows under his eyes. Fuck. Of all the people to turn up. Detective Inspector Harper. He’d clearly landed a promotion since they last met. He stood a little apart from a serious-looking blonde woman, whose thin lips were currently pursed with apparent disapproval as she glanced down at her phone.

Feeling Holly’s gaze, she looked up and smiled. It was a cool, professional smile and it didn’t reach her glacial blue eyes. The DI was talking again. ‘We understand your son is doing well? A broken leg and some concussion, I think the doctor said.’

Holly pulled the regulation blue and white hospital gown tighter around her body, and blinked sleep from her eyes, wishing Lydia would hurry up and get here with her clothes. Her aunt had come straight to the hospital last night when Holly called, but went home around eleven when she had been reassured that her niece and Milo were not in any life-threatening condition.

‘He’s still unconscious, but the doctors say he’s going to be fine. I guess he’ll be furious about having his leg in a cast though …’ Why was she babbling like she was guilty of something? Best get it out in the open. She had told the uniformed PC last night, but she needed to explain, to make them understand that it was wasn’t her fault. ‘There was a car behind that was far too close, and then another car came the other way and nearly hit us. I had to go on the verge and …’

‘It’s okay, Mrs Kendal, we’ve read your statement,’ DC Marriot told her, cutting her off mid-sentence. ‘We can talk about that later. For now, we just have a few more questions.’

Holly nodded, uneasily, her eyes still on the man. They didn’t care. They wanted to know about the other boy. Well, that was okay, because so did she.

DI Harper nodded. He stood next to the window, arms folded. Did he recognise her as she did him? Of course, she was Holly Kendal now instead of Holly Hughes, but surely he must know. And wasn’t it odd that a DI would come for a chat with a car crash victim? But it was a car crash with a twist, and she figured he knew all right, and he was as curious as hell.

His grey eyes were faded now, sunk deeper under bushy grey brows, but he still had that aura of energy, alertness, and that distinctive voice. Her mum had always said he was clever for a copper. She had instructed both her children to keep away from the police who came snooping around their family home. But that was in the past, and with a dad like Holly’s it was no wonder her mum had been cautious. She could never have known that this ‘clever’ copper would be the one who investigated her own death. Investigated, but never bloody found out who did it. Holly switched her thoughts quickly back to the present. It was like being dragged through a mud bath, the past swilling over her, sticking in patches, reminding her she might have walked away but she could never completely escape.

‘Did you find out anything about the other boy?’ Holly asked tentatively now. She passed her tongue nervously over sore lips.

It was the woman who answered. Her voice was sharp and what Holly’s Aunt Lydia would certainly call a bit posh. ‘No. As I’m sure you’ve been told he is still in a critical condition.’

Holly was still struggling to get her head around the accident, let alone the fact she had, somewhere between leaving the road and waking up in the woods, acquired another child. Someone had given her a child. Now this man, with his cool grey eyes and air of officialdom, was back in her life, and suddenly, as other memories stirred it was all she could do to prevent herself from bursting into tears. The DI still hadn’t met her eyes. ‘What about the driver who was behind me, or the idiot in the van who drove right at us?’ she asked quickly.

DI Harper exchanged a quick look with his colleague. ‘Obviously there are no cameras after the Mill Road turn-off, and several vehicles followed you off at Junction 10, but we have no way of telling if any of them took the first exit, as you did. There is also the possibility that the driver behind you joined Mill Road later on, from either Hill Lane or Silver Lane. I do appreciate it must have been hard, but the vague description you gave us of both vehicles doesn’t give us much to go on.’

‘It was dark, and pouring with rain, and I was afraid I was about to be carjacked. You try memorising details in that situation,’ she shot back at him, a flare of confidence returning. The other police officer raised her eyebrows at this show of anger, but said nothing.

‘I’m not trying to insult your intelligence, I’m just telling you we are examining every possibility,’ he said. There was a flash of something that might have been amusement in his grey eyes, before his expression returned its usual sombre mask.

He was still fucking annoying, Holly thought, remembering suddenly that he inserted the word ‘possibility’ into just about every sentence. Nothing was ever ‘confirmed’, or ‘definite’, with him.

‘Moving on, you already mentioned when you were interviewed last night that you have no idea how this other boy came to be in your car. We have checked he doesn’t match the description of any missing children in the local area, but we are circulating his details further afield. Obviously a missing child generates an extensive search operation and we are working in close contact with our neighbouring forces.’ DC Marriot was scrolling through her iPad. ‘We did receive another call to the ambulance service at 17.22. It was a male caller who said he had just driven past a crashed car. He gave your location, but said he didn’t know how many people were involved. He then rang off. The phone number was untraceable.’

‘You think that was the driver behind me?’ Holly said, confusion making her brain heavy, her thoughts sluggish.

DI Harper frowned. ‘At this stage we aren’t sure. Your call came in at 17.31. It is a possibility that the initial caller wasn’t involved at all. Do you recall anything unusual about the afternoon? Anyone who might have been at your son’s rugby game who wasn’t usually there? Or perhaps someone who might have spoken to you when you stopped for petrol?’

‘No! Do you think I haven’t been going over and over this all night? I have no idea how that child came to be in my car and, to be honest, it hasn’t been the best of nights. I’m sure you can understand that.’ She was glaring at the DI now, willing him to react, but he kept his eyes averted.

‘Try to think. I appreciate how distressing this must have been for you,’ DC Marriot said, her voice soothing. She had a slightly pointed face, and small pointed ears, like a pixie. Her make-up was immaculate.

Holly scowled, but allowed her mind to run back over the events of yesterday. ‘Milo always has rugby practice on a Sunday in the winter. Unless they have an away match, it’s always at Prince Edward’s park from two till four. It ran on a bit yesterday because one of the coaches was late, and then I had a coffee afterwards whilst Milo played in the clubhouse with his friends.’

‘So you left rugby at four-thirty, you said?’

‘Yes … I think so, because I remember hoping I wouldn’t catch the rush-hour traffic, and then realising it was Sunday so I didn’t have to panic.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘We stopped for petrol at the next service station. I know the route well, and I often stop there for fuel and groceries.’

‘Did you speak to anyone in the services, notice anyone paying you particular attention?’ DC Marriot pressed her.

She shook her head. ‘No. It was just normal, quite busy but normal.’

‘Now just to recap – you didn’t stop at all when you left the motorway? You didn’t pick up any hitchhikers or see anyone on the side of the road?’

Holly shot him a look of disbelief. ‘Don’t you think I would have mentioned that? Of course I didn’t see anyone else! Everything seemed to happen at once – the deer and Milo shouting, and the headlights of the car behind … I was just so scared.’ Her hands were shaking again as her mind replayed the moment they had left the tarmac, tumbling down the hill.

They watched her some more, clearly waiting, but Holly had no more to say. Actually, she felt a twist of nausea rising in her stomach. It was just too weird. She felt a sudden urge to go back to ICU and reassure herself the boy was still there, still alive … Who the hell was the tailgating driver, and more to the point who was the child who had been left, unconscious and injured?

DI Harper gave a barely imperceptible sigh. ‘We spoke to your husband …’

‘Ex-husband,’ Holly corrected wearily.

‘Sorry, ex-husband. Obviously he is away at the moment, but there is a possibility he might be able to help with our inquiries. He may recognise the child, perhaps.’

Holly looked up, nausea fading away, as anger returned. ‘Tom hasn’t got a clue who Milo sees, or who I see. He’s the last person who would be any help. When I phoned him about the accident he just assumed it was my fault, and as soon as he heard Milo was given the all clear, he said he would carry on with his lecture tour. He’ll pitch up in a couple of days, I expect.’

They both looked hard at her, and Holly squirmed. Too much information, but she was so fatigued that her mouth was running away with her. DC Marriot spoke again. ‘Mrs Kendal, can you think of anyone at all who you might have spoken to recently, who may have been connected with this child?’

‘No!’ She was surprised how insistent they were being. ‘I’ve been back to look at the poor boy and I keep trying and trying to think if I recognise him, but I don’t. I’m not saying I haven’t ever seen him before, but he’s just another kid. He might have been at rugby that afternoon, or karate last week, or even in the queue in Tesco last month, but I can’t say for sure!’ She was getting agitated, raising her voice, breathing heavily, and they were watching her warily.

‘Thank you, Mrs Kendal.’ The woman police officer nodded politely now, but her eyes remained on Holly’s face. She placed her iPad carefully on the table next to Holly. ‘Can I show you something? This is CCTV footage from the BP station where you stopped on your way home.’

Bewildered, Holly leaned over, focusing on the grainy picture. She saw herself and Milo in the long queue, waiting to pay, then a man approaching the empty till at the bakery. He glanced over at her, and she frowned. Something about the tilt of his head, his profile, was familiar. In the footage she was fumbling with her credit card. She remembered the contactless hadn’t worked so the transaction had to go through again.

The place was busy, but amongst the crowd, the camera picked out Holly and Milo leaving, with the man fairly close behind.

‘And then this is the CCTV next to the toilets,’ DI Harper said, scrolling across the screen.

The man was standing, smoking, half facing the wall, apparently waiting in the queue for the toilets. Holly’s heart thumped painfully hard against her ribs, and her head was spinning.

‘Do you recognise him?’ DC Marriot asked.

Holly swallowed hard, her heart beating uncomfortably hard as a shot of adrenalin coursed around her body. It had been years, but of course she knew who he was. He was part of the past, the same past that had killed her brother, her mother, and had been bathed in bloodshed because of who she was. Her voice cracked with emotion. ‘That’s Devril Mancini.’

Chapter 3

‘We believe so,’ DC Marriot said. Her voice was cool and slightly mechanical in its reassurance, as she noted Holly’s reaction.

DI Harper was watching her closely now. ‘Have you had any contact with Devril since the trial?’ There it was. Bang, the past hitting them full on with him staring right at her.

Holly found her hands were shaking like she was back in the courtroom, waiting for the assembled crowd to hear her crimes. ‘No.’

‘Really? Not in eleven years?’ He was clearly sceptical. But then he would be. Harper had stalked their family her whole life.

Holly tried to speak, but her throat was tight and raw, and her eyes stung with tears. She cleared her throat, annoyed at betraying so much emotion. ‘None. You know exactly what happened and why I wouldn’t ever want to go back. I moved on, went to university, got married and had a kid. There would never be a reason to go back. But just for the record, do you really think Devril would have tried to run me off the road?’

‘We’re not saying that all. I’m just pointing out that he was at the garage at the same time you and Milo stopped for petrol on your way home. And as far as I know, he’s been away from the area a long time. It seems a strange coincidence for him to show up again now after all these years. I only recognised him because of our connection.’ He was admitting it now at least. ‘I do appreciate that this is difficult, Holly, but you must see that we have to consider all the possibilities.’ The earnest look of concern, that almost paternal voice and the gentle mannerisms could fool anyone without half a brain into thinking he actually cared. ‘You know Niko Balinta was released last month?’

Another ghost emerging from her nightmares. ‘I do know. So what?’ It came out defensive and snappy. She cleared her throat again, picking up the glass of water from the bedside cabinet. Her mouth stung as she sipped. The tiny glass cuts she had acquired in the accident stretched from her lower lip to her forehead. God, she had been so lucky. She glanced at Milo, sleeping soundly. They both had.

DI Harper nodded slowly, and then echoed her words. ‘So what, indeed. Anyway, our primary concern at this moment in time is to find out who the boy is, and why he was in your car, but apart from that … well, I’m keeping an open mind.’

She scowled at him now. ‘You haven’t mentioned Jayden.’

A quick, bright look from under the bushy brows. ‘Do I need to mention your brother? As you say, it would be raking over old and painful ground. You know how sorry I am about the whole affair. I tried so hard to help him.’

‘Fine, but you brought it up. You mentioned Devril and Niko, so clearly you think the boy in my car and the crash are somehow connected to the past. To my past. What is it?’

‘We are following up all the lines of inquiry. As DI Harper says, there is only a possibility that there might be a connection. It may well be, and this does happen as I’m sure you are aware, that we get some more witnesses come forward. Meanwhile, we will be doing everything we can to find out what happened last night,’ DS Marriot said smoothly. She smiled at Holly.

‘Yeah, I’m sure loads of people will come forward if there’s any connection to our family. You know what Seaview Estate’s like, don’t you?’ Holly said incredulously. ‘Us, the Balintas and the Mancinis owned it and everyone on it.’ Then she jabbed a finger in DI Harper’s direction. ‘He knows what happened when the Nicholls came in and took a slice of the action a few years before Mum died. Nobody talked to the police. Ever. Since my dad scaled down and Mason Balinta’s been sick, the Nicholls have properly taken over. The Mancinis are turncoats and they ride with anyone who’s onto a winner – they don’t give a shit which family that is. It’ll make it weird now Niko’s out though. They say his dad hasn’t got long.’ At their look she shrugged. ‘My best friend and my aunt still live on the estate, so I know what’s going on. But I’m not a part of it anymore, and I’m not the same person either. My life has changed, and I have a kid to protect. He knows nothing about any of this, and now isn’t the right time to tell him. When he’s older, maybe …’

DI Harper was watching her intently now. ‘At this stage we are just making inquiries. DC Marriot will be taking the lead on this case, so be sure to contact her if you remember anything else and apologies if I have upset you. You should get some rest now. But of course, if Devril Mancini should be in contact …’

DI Harper pulled out his phone, moving quickly, almost as if he was running away from her. The curtains swished closed behind him. DC Marriot lingered for a moment and passed Holly a business card. ‘If you do think of anything else, Mrs Kendal, you can call me at any time. We’ll be in touch if there is any more news.’ She was still an ice queen with perfect eyeliner, but suddenly there was a small, genuine smile touching her lips.

‘Thanks.’ Holly took the card and put it on the cabinet next to Milo’s bed. The woman hurried to catch up with her superior, and Holly listened to the tap of their shoes as they made their way along the line of beds to the door. Deep in thought now, seeking reassurance, she slid a hand onto the bed and found her son’s, linking their fingers as she had done when he was a baby.

Suddenly her composure shattered, and for the first time since the accident she gave way to proper tears, laying her face on the pillow next to Milo’s to muffle her sobs. Devril Mancini? Bloody hell. It was a long time since he’d left the Seaview. She’d kept tabs on him via social media, telling herself she was just safeguarding her secrets, but she never imagined she’d actually meet him again. Too much history, and too many nightmares lay between them.

Holly hunched further into her chair, wrapping her arms around her body, frowning into space. Memories of Dev, an aching in her heart, were clouded by the fact that he knew what really happened back then, the night of the murder. He was the one person who could make her life worse than it already was. And now he was back.

***

‘Mum?’

She was drifting, drained and uncomfortable in the chair next to his bed, when her son’s voice brought her back to what mattered.

‘Mum, are you okay?’ His face was still pale, and his green eyes were bewildered, but he was sitting up, wincing at the pain.

‘Milo, you need to lie down, love, and I’ll get a nurse,’ Holly said quickly, happy tears hot behind her own eyes. Relief made her dizzy for a second. He was all right; he was actually going to be okay … Nothing else mattered.

‘Why? Don’t go …’

Holly pressed the call button and one of the nurses came over to take Milo’s observations. He scribbled a few notes on the clipboard and then smiled at both of them. ‘Looks fine to me. We’ll need to keep the both of you in for a while, but his obs are normal. Any pain, mate?’

Milo nodded. ‘Only my leg.’

‘Okay, I’ll get you something for that,’ the nurse said. He grinned suddenly. ‘They said you play rugby. I do too. I’m Matt and if you need anything at all, Milo, you just call for me, okay?’

Milo nodded. ‘Okay.’ All his usual bounce and self-confidence was stripped away. He looked younger, more vulnerable, and Holly leant over to hug him gently, stroking his hair back from his forehead. He was so pale his freckles were like a spattering of blood across his upturned nose, and his lips were red and sore.

‘The doctor will be around soon, but in the meantime he can have sips of water if he wants them,’ Matt said.

Holly thanked him. The child in the next bed was suddenly violently sick and Matt hurried away. She looked down at her son, one arm still around him, and he wriggled over and snuggled into the crook of her arm, head on her shoulder, and their fingers entwined.

‘Mum, I’m really sorry.’ His voice was faint.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m sorry you crashed the car. It was my fault, wasn’t it? You looked round at me before the deer jumped out because I called you. If you hadn’t looked round we might have still …’ Tears trickled down his cheeks.

‘Sweetie, you didn’t cause the car crash,’ Holly said hastily. ‘Of course you didn’t. It was a combination of things and bad luck.’ She glanced at him, afraid of traumatising him further.

‘There was the car behind, wasn’t there?’ Milo said thoughtfully. ‘He crashed into us when we swerved to avoid that van, and again before we went down the bank.’

‘Yes.’

‘There was a man too. He was in the woods after we crashed. I think he brought the other boy.’ His voice was dreamy now, and he snuggled further into her.

‘What? A man? Who was he?’ She’d just assumed Milo had been out cold like she’d been. ‘Had you seen him before?’ She couldn’t stop the surprise in her voice, and hastily softened her questions, soothing him. Her mind was buzzing. ‘Milo? Was it someone you had seen before, sweetie?’

The boy paused, his head still on her shoulder, his forehead crinkling as he considered. ‘No, I’ve never seen him before. I couldn’t see much in the car because it was all shadows. I tried to call out for you but you didn’t answer. I was scared and I tried to move but I couldn’t. It felt like I was half sleeping but then he was there and the other boy was next to me. The man smiled at me, and he touched both our faces like this …’ Milo reached up and stroked Holly’s cheek with gentle fingers.

‘He … touched you? Did he say anything?’ She forced herself not to sound too horrified, to keep the conversation going, but her stomach lurched. A man had been there whilst she was unconscious. He had delivered a child to her car. He’d touched Milo’s face. It made no sense at all.

‘No, but he went all round the car and looked at you in the front. He touched your neck.’ He vaguely tapped the area below his jawline.

Jesus. Who was this lunatic? Someone had checked whether she had a pulse, was dead and then they’d vanished? She needed to call DC Marriot, but not in front of her boy. He seemed to be coming out of this okay, and it wouldn’t be fair to scare him further. But as soon as she could …

After Milo had eaten some toast, Holly scrolled through various social media sites and finally pulled up a fairly recent picture of Devril Mancini, snagged from his Instagram page. She had kept an eye on all of them over them over the years, despite cutting herself off from the past. He’d been a personal trainer when they were younger, but now his profiles just said ‘Freelance writer’, which was pretty vague. She found Niko’s Twitter feed. Brand new and with just a few followers. His Instagram feed seemed to consist mostly of jars of sweets. Which was weird. Had Niko bought the corner shop? Squinting more closely she saw that there were emojis of snowflakes and pills, subtly advertising to those who knew exactly what was on offer. No, not candy, but drugs. Fresh out of jail and already Niko was back in business. There had been news articles occasionally, examining the case, and the papers had dredged everything up when he was released. Hesitantly, she showed photos of both men to her son.

She zoomed in on a shot of Niko. He hadn’t changed much – older of course, dark eyes wary and his smile just short of real. ‘Milo, is this the man who was in the car?’ She was holding her breath, almost willing him to say yes, to solve one piece of the puzzle at least.

He leant over, peered at her phone, and shook his head.

‘Or this one?’

Her son squinted at Devril’s picture for longer, frowning, toast crumbs decorating the side of his mouth. ‘I don’t think so. It was dark and I had that floaty feeling but I don’t think it was this man. He had a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. It was a red one like Dad has …’

‘You mean a GAP one?’

‘Yeah, and the man had a ring on his hand. I felt it when he touched me.’ Milo yawned and, still leaning against her shoulder, drifted back to sleep.

Waiting until he was snoring, Holly moved his head gently back onto the pillow and extricated herself from his clutching fingers. She picked up the card from the cabinet and wheeled herself down to the main entrance towards the coffee machine. Even hospital coffee was better than nothing and she needed to wake up. She was missing something here. Every movement hurt her body and tiredness fogged her brain. She took out her phone, then hesitated.

No way she wanted to speak to the police again so soon, but this mattered. If only to show that she had been telling the truth about not knowing who the child was or how he got there. Although she had to admit it was a bit extreme to think both police officers had doubts about her sanity, hell, she did too at this moment in time.

‘DC Marriot.’

‘It’s Holly Kendal. Milo just woke up and he says that he saw a man in my car after the crash. He thinks he brought the other boy.’

‘My God. Did he recognise him?’ Her voice was sharp, excited.

‘He says not but I think he’d be able to give you a description.’ No need to say she had already shown him a picture of Devril Mancini, or they’d be bound to wonder about the connection again. She could still hear her dad yelling at her brother to never trust the fucking police, and after years of that the mistrust was stuck in her brain.

‘Good. Look, I’m tied up at the moment but I’ll send a colleague back down to the hospital to chat with Milo, if that’s all right? Does he remember anything else?’

‘I don’t think so. He hasn’t said.’

‘That’s fine.’

Holly rang off and sat just inside the doors, watching the busy car park. Ambulances were lined up outside the side entrance, queuing to deliver their patients, and a steady stream of walking wounded tottered into A&E. Every time the doors opened, a blast of icy air hit her face, reminding her it was still winter.

But the sky outside was a perfect pale washed blue, and the morning sunlight cast a feeble brightness across flickering shadows on the tarmac. A grimy concrete pot of spring flowers stood next to the overflowing rubbish bin. Their green shoots and yellow petals were struggling through the sour earth dotted with cigarette ends, but by some miracle they were still growing.

Chapter 4

Dear Mum,

There is so much shit I need to tell you, but it’s hard to put it into words. My fingers are shaking because it’s really cold in the flat, but I can see you watching me from the wall and that helps a bit.

I’ve got all your photos up, Mum, and I’ve got this cool list that Dad gave me that has all your favourite things. He doesn’t just write you letters, he talks to you all the time. Are you really there? Perhaps it isn’t him who’s gone mad; perhaps it’s just that the others can’t see you.

Anyway, I wanted to let you know we’re never going to forget you and we’ve got a plan that will make you happy. Dad says if we do little things in your memory then it will help until we carry out the plan.

I’m not sure if it does help, because he sometimes cries, or shouts your name and punches the wall. The neighbours yell and bang on their side when he does that. Not on your wall, of course. Yours is beautiful. We painted the whole side of the room yellow like sunshine, and we pinned up loads of pictures, a copy of the list, and some of your clothes. It’s really special and every night we light a candle and Dad says we have to spend a while just thinking about you.

I kind of like this time of night, because it’s quiet, and I can feel you close when we are near the wall. The smell of beer makes me feel a bit sick, but at least Dad is sleeping too. Sometimes he chokes and throws up, but after the first time, I know what to do. I just clean up and I make sure when he passes out his head is turned to one side because Layla at school said she does that for her mum too.

Are you really there, Mum? I kind of need to know, but if you can’t tell me don’t worry, I understand. I know you’re looking out for me. Can you keep an eye on Dad too? Just when he goes a bit crazy. I’m worried that he might do something stupid and they’ll take him away. Don’t tell him I said so.

I love you, Mum

x

Chapter 5

‘She’s dead!’

‘Listen to me. Put both hands on the centre of her chest, one on top of the other. Are you doing that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now push down hard and fast. Don’t be afraid to push too hard. You can help her …’

‘I’m doing it! I’m fucking doing it, okay?’

‘Great. Well done. Keep going. One, two, three, four … I’ll stay with you until the ambulance arrives. Is the door unlocked?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Keep going. One, two, three, four …’

‘I can’t …’

‘It’s okay. Keep going, sweetheart, you are doing so well. The ambulance is nearly with you.’

‘I can hear sirens.’

‘Keep going.’

‘Oh, the police are here!’

‘It’s okay, just keep going until the ambulance crew take over.’

‘They’re here!’

‘Okay, you can hang up on me now. Well done, Holly.’

Holly drifted back to consciousness, fighting her way through the ragged remains of nightmares. Her own brother’s girlfriend and she hadn’t saved her … It was like a knife, jabbing quickly, mercilessly under her ribs.

Her eyes darted around the room as she took deep breaths, feeling her pulse slowing down to normal. At least they were home now, and she was in her own bed, in her own house. She hadn’t had that dream for ages, and the memories were unwelcome, dripping through into real life, into her perfect real life that she had so carefully constructed. Except it wasn’t so perfect anymore. Tom had turned into a cheating bastard, and she was left struggling to pay the bills on her own. Not to mention his charming text messages. Since the accident she’d had only one more, but she was now seriously considering telling DC Marriot about them.

She struggled out of bed, feeling the twinge in her leg, adjusting her weight to compensate. But she was okay. If she kept telling herself that, she might even start to believe it. After all, the hospital had given them the all clear and discharged them both; medically they must be all right. Milo was calling from his room now, something about a dragon egg hatching into a wolf. She could do this. ‘Coming! Can you reach your crutches okay?’

‘Yeah, I just want to show you this really cool evolving dragon egg!’

Holly pulled a thick fleece on over her pyjamas and staggered towards his room, pushing away the dregs of the nightmare, focusing on what was important. But she couldn’t help thinking about the other boy. The silent, pale child still lying in his hospital bed, who had nobody to shout for, nobody to claim him. The rush of protective emotion she had experienced after she found him in her car was still there.

Her aunt was already busy crashing around the kitchen downstairs, making one of her famous fry-ups. Holly, who preferred to get at least two cups of coffee down before she even thought about food, felt her stomach heave slightly at the smell of bacon.

But Milo was soon sliding down the stairs on his bum, dragging his crutches behind him, apparently desperate for food. ‘Lydia, can you leave my eggs all runny please and can I have a sausage too?’

***

‘Lydia, I’m fine. I can do it.’ They were sitting in the living room, which after Lydia’s assault with the Hoover and dusters was unusually clean and tidy. Milo was drawing at the kitchen table.

‘Holly, you most certainly are not fine. You told the police someone almost ran you off the road, and now they seem to think all kinds of things about how this other boy got in the car. Before you say a word, you know I believe you. As if you wouldn’t say if you knew who he was! That DI Harper sticking his beak in around here again isn’t going to help anyone, is it? Now what’s all this about you thinking you’re going back to work on Monday? You’re barely back on your feet!’

Holly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Don’t be so dramatic. I have to go back to work because I need the money. You know I always work overtime shifts to cover the extra on the mortgage, now Tom’s gone.’

‘You should move house, get somewhere smaller instead of killing yourself working all hours. Come back to the Seaview, love,’ her aunt told her. Then her expression softened. ‘Of course, I’ll have Milo when you’re working as usual, but give yourself a break, love. The two of you have only been out of hospital for a few days.’

‘Thanks, Lydia.’ Holly smiled at her, silently adding that whilst she was still sane and breathing there was no way on earth she was going back to live on the Seaview. The mirror opposite the sofa reflected them, so similar both physically and mentally. With the pale winter sunlight shining through the window, casting a gentle glow across her face, Lydia looked so much like Holly’s mum.

Lydia was the older sister, pushing sixty-eight now, but the black curls were glossy and as usual she was heavily made up, with red lipstick and lashings of dark eyeliner. Lydia’s husband had died four years ago, and she had dealt with the grief as only she could – by joining a swanky health club and spending lots of money on clothes.

Lydia had no kids so she had always had a lot of time for Holly and her brother. She could have moved off the estate years ago, but she said she was happy in her flat. Her husband, Mick, had invested in property and a bar in Spain, and Lydia said as soon as Holly was settled she’d go and live in the sunshine.

The older woman got up and moved over to the window. ‘At least you haven’t had any reporters hanging around in the last few days. Whilst you were in hospital they were parked out front for a bit, even knocking on the door when I was over stocking the fridge, and I told you I went over and had a word … I get that it’s a good story but they’ve got no right to turn up on your doorstep. That poor boy … I just keep thinking why the hell haven’t his parents reported him missing? It really gets me to think maybe he doesn’t have anyone, any family to worry about him …’

The phantom child in Holly’s car was a great story, but so far both police and journalists had drawn a blank. A police appeal had been on the national news, giving sparse details and focusing on the fact that somewhere, someone must know a child was missing. Her name hadn’t been mentioned but from her previous experience she knew journalists had ways and means of tracking people down. Although DC Marriot had told her the boy seemed to be improving and the most recent scans were encouraging, nobody could really be certain he was okay, until he regained consciousness.

She would go back and visit him this week. Perhaps subconsciously he would know that somebody was looking out for him. In a weird way he had been given to her, and she felt responsible until another superseded her claim.

‘Do they know who the other boy is yet?’ Milo asked suddenly, abandoning his drawing and hopping into the living room. ‘I mean, what if they already know who he is but they aren’t telling us?’ He was fiddling with the TV remote, half his attention on the task in hand, half focused on this intriguing subject. He’d brought it up numerous times every day since they’d been out of hospital. After a couple of days of being pale and withdrawn, he had gradually recovered his bounce and confidence. But the questions were the same: Was the boy conscious yet? Why was he in the car? Who put him there? Lately he had started on this conspiracy theory, and become convinced the police knew the boy’s identity.

DC Marriot’s colleague, DS Steph Harlow had carefully questioned Milo, but he said he remembered nothing after the deer leaping across the road, until he woke up in hospital. When Holly reminded him what he had said about the man leaving the other boy in the car, his chin set stubbornly and he shook his head. The nurse told her later that the memories could come back, but it was also possible that now Milo was fully awake, he was simply blocking out the whole traumatic event, and even if he did remember, he didn’t want to share it.

The doorbell rang and Holly made a move to get up, even as her aunt went to the door, her high-heeled fluffy mules tapping on the wooden floor. She could hear the initial stilted conversation, and frowned. Great, Tom was the last person she wanted to see. It was a shame he couldn’t have stayed abroad. He had returned from his overseas lecture tour two days after the accident, but had made sure his visits to Milo in hospital didn’t coincide with Holly’s. Then, reassured by the medical staff that Milo was on the mend, he had resumed his tour, and departed for a further three days in Berlin.

‘Dad!’ Recognising the voice, Milo scrambled for his crutches and hopped proficiently out of the room.

‘Hallo, mate, how are you doing?’

‘Yeah, I’m okay. Mum’s doing well too, says her leg is nearly better but mine is actually broken.’

‘I know. I wanted to come back sooner, but I needed stay for this work conference … Still, it’s all done now. Want to see what I bought you?’

‘Yes! Am I coming to stay with you when Mum goes back to work?’

‘Come inside properly then, and I’ll show you your present.’ Tom had been walking down the hall as he greeted his son but now they both appeared in the doorway. Tom was carrying a large square box, wrapped in shiny green paper.

Holly nodded politely at her ex-husband, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. The sight of yet another expensive present for Milo made her wince. She supposed he was doing it to make up for the divorce, but it made things awkward, and highlighted the fact she couldn’t afford to buy her son expensive presents. Her aunt scowled at Tom, muttered something about a cup of tea and vanished into the kitchen.

‘So, Holly, how are you feeling?’ He was clearly forcing himself to be civil, and without waiting for an answer he carefully pulled Milo close to his side, dropping a kiss on his blonde head. ‘Thank God Milo is okay.’

She managed to respond to this. ‘Yes, he’s fine now. He’s going back to school on Monday. Milo, can you go and help Lydia while I chat to your dad? He can come and play football with you in the garden in a minute, okay? And then you can open your present too.’ Holly smiled. ‘I did say he shouldn’t be playing football, but he’s determined to be goalie at the very least.’

For a split second they shared a look over Milo’s head. A tiny golden moment that reminded Holly of when Milo was first born, and they used to stand next to his crib, watching him sleep, totally in awe of this tiny human being they had created. But then it was over, Tom’s expression changing to one of disdain as he spotted her roster on the coffee table.

‘Are you really going back to work?’

‘Of course.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I need to earn money somehow, remember?’ She turned back to Milo. ‘Go on, sweetie, go outside for a bit while I speak to your dad.’

He frowned, looked from one to the other and then reluctantly hopped towards the kitchen.

Holly looked at Tom. His brown hair was just slightly too long, his navy tweed jacket worn over a crisp blue-striped shirt that emphasised his dark blue eyes. He had picked up a faint tan, despite the fact that he always complained he never saw the outside world when he was on a lecture tour. He smelt of his usual expensive aftershave. Once, the combination had turned her on, but now she wanted to throw up. It was such a cliché to have fallen for her university lecturer. Even more of a cliché to have imagined she could ride off into the sunset with him.

She had a sudden flash of memory – Jayden sitting on her bed, seizing her book, chucking it out the open window, and telling her fairy tales were total bollocks. As an elder brother he had clearly felt it was up to him to lay down the law. He must have been about eight when he said that, but she had already grown taller than him. Little git.

‘Are you really managing with the mortgage repayments? I would have thought you should be thinking about downsizing,’ he said, sitting casually on the sofa. Tom’s upper-class voice was light, almost disinterested, but she was sure there was a bit of sarcasm in there.

Memories stung. She had been in love with him, she was sure of it. Now he had moved on. Another young woman, another home, soon probably another kid on the way. Lydia was one of only two people who had ever expressed doubt over Holly’s choice of husband. He had fooled most of them with his charm and good looks. ‘We’re fine, thank you for asking. I’ve been doing overtime.’

‘Still working in the call centre? You should have finished your degree, Holly.’ His smug, self-satisfied face was highlighted by the crisp winter light as he stood, poised in front of the big bay windows like an actor on stage.

The unfairness of this statement made her catch her breath. ‘Whatever you want to think. I’m sure we don’t need to meet up to go over the childcare arrangements for the next month, so why don’t we just do this by email in future. It’ll save us both the hassle,’ Holly told him. She hated herself for still searching his face some kind of affection, anything but this cold, amused sarcasm. Why did he hate her so much? She should mention the texts, she really should.

‘I’m sure that will be fine. Beth is so good at working out my diary, and now we have the spare room organised Milo can come and stay for the weekends.’ His eyes were challenging her to comment.

‘I’m sure he’d like that. While he isn’t in the room, Tom, I would like to speak to you about something.’

His expression was wary, and he leaned back a little, away from her.

‘I can’t pretend that everything is okay, and that I’m not still unbelievably hurt by what you did, but you made your choice.’

‘You threw me out remember, Holly. It wasn’t my choice at all. You’ve changed since you’ve been working. Why you couldn’t just get a job that fitted around school hours instead of shift work, I don’t know.’

It was an old argument, and she wasn’t going to get sucked in. ‘You tell yourself whatever you want, Tom. We can be civil for Milo’s sake, and we can make sure he is still loved and cared for.’ She took a deep breath, and met his eyes. ‘But you need to stop asking for him to come and live with you. He is getting so confused. You also need to stop sending me shitty text messages. Why are you so mad at me, when it’s you who cheated on us?’

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay civil for long … Thank you, Lydia.’ He smiled at her as she dumped two mugs of tea on the table.

Lydia scowled back at him, deliberately ignoring his words. ‘I’ll go into the garden with Milo for bit,’ she said, addressing her words exclusively to Holly. Her dark eyes, almost hidden by the weight of her false lashes, were flashing with indignation, but she silently swapped her mules for shiny red stilettos and tottered out of the room.

‘Thanks.’ Holly waited until the back door banged, and then she turned back to Tom. ‘It isn’t me who isn’t being civilised about this.’

‘I don’t know what text messages you are referring too, but I don’t think any of mine can be classed as shitty,’ he told her.

Holly reached over to the table and pulled her phone towards her, her injured ribs tweaking as she did so. She scrolled down and pushed the device towards Tom.

He picked her phone up delicately, as though it was something insanitary. His expression was blank, as he read down the list of vitriol, but when he came to the end his brows drew sharply together, slightly thin mouth pursed. ‘I don’t know what game you are playing, Holly, but I didn’t send these.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘They’ve come from your phone.’

‘I can see that, but I didn’t send them. This one … last week – you don’t surely imagine I would say that about you?’ Tom’s eyes were dead, blank, and his mouth was set in a thin line, daring her to contradict him. ‘Are you going completely mad?’

Chapter 6

Actually, Holly did doubt her sanity at this moment in time, but Tom’s denials seemed genuine for once. Then again, he had always been good at playing the helpless academic fumbling through life, destined for greatness. He was an excellent speaker and an expert manipulator.

‘Who else has access to your phone?’

He shook his head. ‘Nice one, Holly, but Beth would never do anything so petty.’

‘And I would? How could I possibly send texts to myself from your phone? I didn’t even finish my first year at uni, remember, Tom.’ She couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep out and instantly regretted it as he pounced.

He stood up, shaking his head, buttoning his jacket. ‘You’ve lost the plot, Holly. I don’t know what’s going on but I’m having serious doubts about your state of mind at the moment. First the accident, now these odd accusations. Perhaps you need to see someone? I only came to check Milo was okay after the accident, so I’ll go and see him for a bit. You’re right, we can email about childcare arrangements.’ His square chin was set, like Milo’s when he was being stubborn about something. His eyes were contemptuous. ‘I’m sure you’ll see, in time, why Milo would be better off with me. You’ll never keep up with the repayments and pay the bills on your wages. I’ll wait and see how long it takes you to dig yourself into a hole, Holly, and then I’ll take my son to live with me, where he belongs. You can’t offer him anything.’

‘I’m his mum.’ Furious that her voice came out as a hissing whisper, Holly fought back tears.

He was already halfway out the door. ‘So? As I said, you nearly killed him in a car crash, and you work all hours so he hardly sees you. Perhaps it isn’t just work, maybe you go out with other men too, leaving your son alone in the house. That doesn’t sound like a good mother to me.’

‘What the fuck? I would never do that. You’re the one who was unfaithful, and you’re also the reason I have to work overtime.’ Her throat was choked with tears now, and the fire of fury was burning in her chest. Trapped, he had her trapped. Well, it wouldn’t work. No matter how hard she had to work, or what she had to do, he was never going to have Milo full time. Hopefully Beth would get pregnant soon, and a new baby would take his attention. Holly heard voices in the garden, Milo laughing, the sound of a ball bouncing off the wooden fence.

Tom looked hard at her. ‘I don’t know what you do when I’m not around, but your past isn’t exactly copybook is it?’

‘Neither is yours,’ she shot back, and then took a step back as his face changed into a mask of icy fury. The switch between his everyday persona and what she thought of as his ‘other face’ was terrifying. It didn’t happen often, but she’d seen plenty of glimpses of the real Tom in the nine years they had been married.

‘We agreed that would never be mentioned, didn’t we? Trading secrets, I believe it’s called. The deal still stands, but I was actually talking about your brother, and your family history. That’s hardly something you have successfully been able to hide, is it? I really believed you when you said you could change, Holly, and I feel like you’ve cheated on me. You are not the woman you promised you could be.’ He held up his hand, palm facing her, as though to stem any retaliation, and his face relaxed. Tom was on familiar ground now, lecturing delinquent students, shaking his head at bad behaviour. ‘No, don’t say anything, because you’ll regret it. Now, I’m going to spend a little time with my son, and then I’ll see myself out.’

Lydia passed Tom in the doorway, and whilst still ignoring him, took one look at her niece’s tear-stained face and pulled her into a hug. ‘What’s he said now?’

From the back door, Tom made an impatient noise, and slammed his way outside.

Holly blew her nose. ‘Still the same thing. He wants Milo, and he thinks he can get him by proving I’m an unfit mum. He says I’m not the same person he married, but I never lied to him about the family, and I was never ashamed of where I came from. I chose to get out because I wanted to, not because of some stupid snobbery. It’s him who doesn’t understand. He never did …’

‘I know, love, and you did the right thing. Your mum wouldn’t have wanted you to stay on Seaview, or have anything to do with the business. But Tom was always wrong for you. You should have stayed with the Mancini boy, although I know your dad would have liked to have seen you with a Nicholls. He used to say that with Joey having kids all over the place he was sure you’d find one you liked.’ She laughed, harsh and without amusement. ‘We all make mistakes, darling, believe me, I know.’

The thought of her mum gave Holly a little snag of pain deep in her heart. In her mind, the hit-and-run driver who had killed her mum was all tied up with Larissa’s murder and Jayden’s death. Violence was a way of life on the Seaview, and she didn’t want that for her son, but Tom had always been wrong about the majority of normal families who lived there.

There was fierce loyalty in the tight-knit community. That was the part she missed. As kids they had roamed all over the estate, accepting the contents of the pockets of drug dealers as easily as they did the bustling older people who fussed over them. The fact that one group offered coloured pills that sent you high, and the other group sugary snacks that made you hyper, was never a problem.

‘When I first got together with Tom I thought he was amazing, and now I can only remember his snide comments about kids from the estates.’ Holly paused. ‘He was surprised I did well enough at school to get into uni. In fact, he reckoned all of us lot – Jay, Devril, Niko and me – were thick just because of where we grew up.’

He aunt watched her with narrowed eyes. ‘Holly, love, you have to let it go. I know you were trying to change, to be someone else to escape what happened, but you don’t have to change. And you don’t need some bloke to chip away at your self-confidence either. We know who we are and where we came from, and there’s no shame in that. As for intelligence, I hate to say it but it takes a bit of brain to run a business like your dad did, and Jay was a little genius when it came to computers, wasn’t he?’

Holly smiled suddenly, recalling her big brother locked away in one of the derelict flats, hacking into various bank accounts, removing a little here and there and running his own version of his dad’s business. ‘Yeah, it’s just a shame he didn’t stop at the tech and stay off the drugs.’

Lydia picked up the empty mugs. ‘Tell you what though, Tom was right about one thing. Niko is fucking thick as two short ones!’

Holly grinned back, strength returning. ‘Anyway, loads of kids have parents who work shifts. Tom has no idea. He always had this feudal idea of me staying at home and pretending everything was perfect. That’s partly why I went to work with Cath, to piss him off. And to top it all off, he says he didn’t send those texts, and tried to make out I was going mad.’ She followed Lydia into the kitchen. ‘I promise to shut up about him in a minute, but how does he always manage to make everything my fault?’

Lydia dumped the mugs next to the sink and started rearranging the cutlery in Holly’s dishwasher. Straightening, she glanced through the kitchen window. Watching the boy hop round the garden, her own eyes were bright. ‘Think about Milo, love. He’s your kid and you should be proud. Tom doesn’t have a clue what goes on in real life. He never did.’ She turned to face Holly again, hands on hips. ‘He likes the cheer squads, the admiration that goes with his job. Obviously he’s clever, so he gets it at work, but he needs that at home too. That’s why he married you so young, and probably why, now you’ve grown up, he’s gone off with this other girl. How old is Beth?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘And he’s thirty-eight? Well, there you go.’

‘I suppose. There’s no way he’s going to win though. I’m keeping the house, and I’m keeping my son, even if it kills me. You know, he hardly mentioned the crash, the other boy, or the fact that there was someone following me. If there was one person I would suspect of trying to run me off the road, it would be him.’

Her aunt looked her sharply, one hand resting on the granite worktop, the other picking anxiously at a loose thread on her shirt. ‘Really? But he was in Portugal and this other boy …’

‘Oh, I know it wasn’t him. Milo would have recognised him when he saw him in the car anyway, and what would he be doing with a spare child? The point is, when I was scared, driving through the dark, thinking I was about to be carjacked or something, I thought it would be him. He really hates me. Whatever he says about the texts, it must be him or Beth. Nobody else would have access to his phone. He used to have a fit if I even answered it for him when we were together.’

Her aunt nodded slowly, biting her lip. ‘I did wonder … Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but all that old trouble with Jayden … Niko’s out now, and you told me the police saw Devril Mancini at the petrol station. Could this be something to do with your brother?’

Holly blinked, shocked. ‘Jesus, Lydia, of course not. That was all finished with ages ago, and I’ve not had anything to do with that lot for years. And Jayden’s … Well, he’s dead isn’t he?’

Lydia looked away, cheeks flaming. ‘Yes, of course. I’m just saying, that’s all. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I just wanted to say … But you’re right, it will bring back bad memories.’ She dashed a hand across her eyes and started rummaging in the cupboard. ‘How about cottage pie for dinner, love?’

Holly watched her for a moment, but let it go. Clearly her aunt had more to say on the subject, but she knew from experience not to push it. Why would anyone go after her anyway? The answer sprang up in an instant, and the thought made her gut clench with fear. Because what happened was her fault.

The door banged as Tom marched in from the garden and made his way out of the house. He called a cheerful goodbye to his son, but ignored the two women.

Milo bounced back into the kitchen, swinging along on his crutches, showing Lydia the ripped-open box of Ninjago Lego that was his latest present. With a sudden stab of emotion Holly thought of the other child again, the one who was never far from her thoughts. What kind of a life did he have? Did he play with Lego like Milo, or have furious games with dragons?

Preoccupied, Holly watched her ex-husband stride out into the road, getting carefully into his new Jaguar F-Type. He adjusted the driving mirror, taking his time, smoothing back his hair, clicking his seatbelt into place. The car was just another status symbol, another example of the toys that his reputation had brought him. Lydia was right, he loved the adoration from his students, the praise from academic journals, the spotless and much-talked-about career. She thought of what Tom had said about trading secrets. Well, yes they had, but how long would the trust hold, how long would it be until one of them had nothing to lose by telling the truth?

Shoving the emotions away, Holly picked up her phone. ‘Lydia, I’m just going to ring the hospital and see if there’s any news on that other boy.’

Lydia appeared in the kitchen doorway, tea towel in her damp hands, her dark eyes bright with interest. ‘That’s a good idea, love. I hate to think of a kid all alone, and you said he doesn’t seem to have any family. Whoever left him was wicked, plain evil.’

Chapter 7

DC Marriot called just after Holly dropped Milo at school. ‘Mrs Kendal? It’s DC Karen Marriot. Are you at home?’

‘What? Sorry, the signal is really bad.’ That and the noise of a hundred screaming kids hurtling around a playground. A dozen footballs bounced off the chain-link fence next to her. Holly moved away, dodging through the crowd to a space near the bus stop. ‘I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.’

‘I can meet you there. I’d rather speak to you face to face about this.’

Her voice was sharp, almost excited. Holly shivered despite her coat and scarf. It had to be something about the boy. Who he was, obviously, and it was clearly interesting or the DC wouldn’t be dragging herself out to her house. Perhaps he had woken up. Which would be weird, as when she’d spoken to the nurse last night they said there’d been no change, but he was ‘comfortable’. Holly walked faster, almost jogging, until the nagging pain in her injured leg forced her to slow down.

DI Harper hadn’t been in touch after that odd conversation at the hospital. It was almost like he was keeping away on purpose, but she supposed he must have other cases he was working on. He had said his colleague was taking the lead on this one, and with so much drama in her personal life she’d been grateful the police had left her alone. Until now.

Arriving home breathless, and worried, she barely had time to tidy the junk in the lounge, and chuck the breakfast dishes into the sink, when the doorbell rang.

DC Marriot was accompanied by her colleague, DS Steph Harlow, and although both women were polite and almost friendly, Holly felt a flicker of nerves.

‘Do you want tea?’

DC Harlow smiled reassuringly. She was a pretty, round-faced woman with grey hair tied up in a messy ponytail. ‘I’ll have one please. Two sugars would be great.’

‘No thanks.’ DC Marriot was immaculate as usual, her blonde hair gleaming and pinned up in a chignon, her charcoal grey suit jacket and trousers perfectly pressed. But her cool expression betrayed a flash of excitement. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. The swab we took from the child in hospital shows that there is a genetic link between you. These results only give varying degrees of probability, but in this case there is a high degree of probability that you are related to this boy.’

‘Fuck me.’ It wasn’t possible. Holly swallowed hard and switched the kettle off before it had finished boiling. Realising what she had done, she turned it back on and faced the two women, fists clenched. Her stomach was churning, and she found she was breathing fast. ‘How could I be related to him? I don’t have any other kids!’ Her mind was spinning and the shock turned her voice into a squeak. So many possibilities hurtling through her brain. Had her parents had another child? A half-brother or sister who in turn had given birth to a boy?

‘We obviously know about your brother,’ DS Harlow said gently.

‘What? But Jayden’s dead. Oh shit, how old do you think the kid is?’ Without waiting for an answer, words tumbling from her mouth, Holly continued, ‘Oh my God, what’s my aunt going to say? You’re saying this is Jayden’s kid, aren’t you?’ Quickly she did the maths. What had the doctor said? That he thought the boy was about twelve. That would make him Larissa’s child. Her other child. Not the lifeless baby girl the paramedics had found in the flat. Another child. But there had been no trace of another kid in the flat … There hadn’t!

Holly pulled some mugs from the cupboard, hands shaking. One of the handles slid from her grasp and shattered on the tiled floor. ‘Shit!’ She burst into tears, blood oozing from a cut thumb.

DS Harlow got up, and took the remaining mugs from Holly, gently disentangling her fingers. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll make the tea. Sorry, Holly, but this is why we wanted to break the news in person. I understand it must be a shock.’

Wiping her eyes, Holly slumped opposite DC Marriot, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at her, instead staring at the wooden table. She grabbed a tissue and wrapped it around her injured digit. ‘Have you spoken to Lydia? To my dad?’ Fucking hell, Donnie would go mental when he found out. Depending on whether he was having a day off the booze, or if he was busy drinking himself insensible. Mind you, he’d taken zero interest in Milo.

Whatever Donnie had been up to in previous years, he no longer played an active part in anything unless it came out of a bottle. It was hard to believe he used to be the kingpin of all the local crime families. In the years before her mum died, Donnie had dipped a toe in most illegal activities you could name: drugs, of course; trafficking; robberies. There had once been a lot of money to burn but now it was gone.

She and Jayden had grown up knowing that other people were scared of their parents. They’d been raised with the Balintas, the Mancinis and later the Nicholls’ kids. And that had turned out so well. Holly dropped her head in her hands for a moment, lost in the past. A past she had turned her back on. For a while she had been successful, but now it seemed that everything was slowly unravelling. At the back of her brain the words beat a drum tattoo: ‘Another child, another child.’ If the police were right, she had a nephew. Milo had a cousin.

She raised her head and looked up at DC Marriot. ‘Sorry. Just a bit of a shock. Oh thanks. Um … Are you sure about this? I mean, is it possible there’s some mistake? My brother is dead. He … We had a memorial and everything.’ She trailed off. The other woman put a mug of tea in front of her. Holly, seeking mundane comfort, wrapped her hands around the hot mug, inhaling the steam.

DC Marriot was watching her, blue eyes intense, and when she spoke, she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘We’ll talk to your dad next, and then your aunt. Holly, I’m sorry to have to ask this, but is there any possibility that your brother is still alive?’

Holly blinked hard, seeing his face, seeing Larissa’s face. The room seemed to spin, and her hands grasping the mug seemed her only link to reality. Christ, no wonder the child had seemed to have an edge of familiarity. There had been that niggling thought that she did know him, but she hadn’t been able to place him. Despite the fact Jayden had been blonde, and even though this kid had been asleep when she saw him, now she knew she realised he was the image of his dad.

They had always been a funny pair, her and her brother – striking, with their totally different looks. She was so dark, with her skin and hair colour a legacy from her mother, and he was so blonde and green-eyed. Donnie had been blonde of course, and when Jayden had been her dad’s golden boy, doing as he was told, it had all seemed perfect. Donnie had a son to take over the business, and that was all he cared about. But father and son had been estranged for years by the time Jayden died. Donnie hadn’t even bothered to come to the candlelit memorial Lydia had arranged when, seven years after they last saw him, Jayden Hughes was officially declared dead.

The police officers waited patiently, as she got a hold of herself, pushing through memories. ‘You lot told me he was dead! I saw what they did to Larissa and the baby, so I had no reason to assume otherwise. You said Jay’s blood was in the room, and his footprints, and then when that dealer said he’d helped get rid of his body …’ Holly was getting agitated again now, fighting her emotions, trying to stay in control. For the first time in ages, despite the recent dramas, she felt like she needed to fight. The sweet release of tension, the sweat and the pain in her muscles, and the high of victory that beat anything drugs could offer.

DS Harlow passed her a box of tissues, and she grabbed one, wiping away the tears in annoyance. She wasn’t generally a crier, but the last few months she seemed to have spent her whole time bursting into tears.

‘It’s okay to be upset and you don’t have to hide it. I’d be in total shock if it was me. This was eleven years ago, wasn’t it? Can you talk us through the last time you saw your brother?’ DS Harlow said gently. She was taking notes on a pad, chewing the end of her pen, whilst her colleague tapped away on her iPad.

‘You must have it all on file. You know all about it, and bloody DI Harper was there!’ It came out defensively, but DC Marriot just nodded. ‘Holly, I’m not going to lie to you, this is an oddball case. That’s why we are trying to get as much background as possible. Naturally DI Harper has provided us with the previous case files, and we know all the officers involved believed Jayden to be dead, even before he was legally declared so. There was never any mention of another child, though. We just think it might help to go over the details from your point of view again, which may in turn tell us why the boy is here.’

‘It won’t help me,’ Holly muttered, scrubbing at her flushed and wet cheeks with another tissue. What the hell was going on?

DC Marriot propped her chin on one hand, studying her iPad, eyes flicking from Holly to her screen. ‘There are other options, of course …’

‘Let’s go with the theory that this is Jayden’s son, to start off with,’ DS Harlow said, with a quick glance at her colleague.

Holly took a deep breath and waited another long moment. She found she was flexing her fingers, feeling a tremor that rippled along her biceps, instinctively clenching her fists. ‘I saw Jayden the week before Larissa was killed. He’d cleared off eighteen months previous and we thought that he’d moved right out the area. But he was waiting outside the gym late one night. I’d been teaching a class, and suddenly there he was, just the same as ever, asking for money. He asked for ten thousand pounds to pay off the dealer he owed. He knew I didn’t have that kind of money, but he said he was desperate. We’d been there before. I’d lent him money, my mum lent him money before she died, my aunt, everyone … I was … shocked to see him. Angry too. I thought he’d gone for good, and maybe finally sorted himself out.’

‘And your dad? Did he lend him money?’

‘No. He did to start with, when he thought Jay was going to be useful in the business. You know, dealing and that, but when Mum died he told Jay to fuck off, quit using the merchandise and sort his life out, so instead Jay worked mainly either dealing for the Balintas or helping out Gareth Nicholls on deliveries. You know, Nicholls Transport?’

‘We know it,’ DC Marriot said dryly, exchanging a quick, loaded glance with her colleague.

‘Joey and Gareth were pretty young when they first came down to the Seaview, and my dad always said they wanted to be the top dogs. They pretended to be happy with a three-way territory split with my dad, and Mason Balinta, but I know they started paying Alexi Mancini to do them favours, give them contacts, right after they arrived,’ Holly found she was rambling now, with Dev’s cheeky grin all mixed up with the horrors of the trial. But there were happy memories further back. All of them as kids, her and her best mate Cath beating the boys at basketball, and her discovery that she was good at boxing. Bloody good. She was soon competing for the local club, progressing to the NABC Boxing Championships, and it had escalated from there: the agent, the professional photos … It was a long time ago now.

‘Anyway, I haven’t seen my dad properly for years, and he’s only met Milo once. This is ancient history and it doesn’t change the fact that my brother was officially declared dead. When he died, I didn’t know he had one baby, let alone another child. If he survived though, and had a child to take care of, he would have contacted me, or Lydia.’ Or would he? Perhaps he knew what she had done, the betrayal of trust, of family ties and everything she had grown up with.

‘Go on. Humour me, Holly. The DI wants to help, and he knows we’re talking to you about this. He’d be here himself if he didn’t have another case running alongside this one.’ DC Marriot paused almost imperceptibly. ‘If there is a chance your brother is alive and back in the area, added to the fact that Niko and Devril are back in Westbourne, it would be a strange coincidence. As you say, the older generation of your families were once in business together, weren’t they?’

Holly ignored her question. What was going on? It would do no good to be chippy and defensive with the police though, not with something this important. She didn’t trust them, and years of prejudice didn’t vanish overnight. She forced her mind back eleven years, picturing her blonde, skinny brother, with his pointed chin, and hazel-flecked green eyes. His breath had been like white smoke in the wintry darkness outside the gym. She had still been in her kit, sweaty hair pulled back, hoodie thrown over her Lycra top. Her brother’s appearance, his pleading for money, had made her furious. ‘I told Jayden to fuck off. It was his usual form to beg for money. He would always say he was in danger, and as soon as he was bailed out, he’d get back into debt.’

‘He was an addict?’

‘For a while, yes, but he refused any help. Once, we got him into the rehab place in Panfield, but he walked out after a couple of days.’ Holly was drifting through her thoughts. They stabbed sharply, needles in her heart, and the helpless frustration she had felt then was bubbling back up in her belly. ‘Like I said, when he vanished the first time, it was almost a relief. We were worried, of course, that he might have got into worse trouble, or wound up dead. But we knew Mason and his heavies hadn’t found him, because we had the whole Balinta family on our backs wanting money to settle debts Jayden had run up when he was meant to be dealing for them. Lydia didn’t tell me at the time, but Jayden sent her an occasional text to say he was safe. And my dad, well, he gave out that he didn’t give a shit but I reckon he was glad Jayden had gone, so he didn’t embarrass him anymore. It was tough for us all after Mum died. I was thirteen when she was killed, and Jay was fifteen. It was the worst thing ever, and Jayden never got over it. I thought he’d OD or something, it was that bad for a while. He couldn’t think of anything except his next hit.’

‘And Jayden had been in a relationship with Cathryn Davies?’ DS Harlow queried.

‘Yeah. He had the twins with Cath: Ronnie and Sean. I’d hoped being a dad would have straightened Jayden out. But they were too young, and they were never going to last as a couple, even though Cath was sure they could make a go of it. She was in bits when he started ghosting her, and then when he just left without another word it nearly destroyed her. That was another reason I was glad when Jayden didn’t come back. He trashed everything, caused all this shit, left debts and stressed everyone. It was better that he wasn’t around.’

‘According to your original statement, this time when you refused to give him the cash, he then stole money from your aunt.’

Holly nodded. ‘After he met me and I said no, he tried Lydia. He went round to visit her, and managed to get on and off the Seaview without anyone spotting him. Bloody luck of the devil he always had, my dad said. Anyway, Lydia said she could only give him part of the money, but he took her card and emptied her bank account.’

‘And when did you next hear from him?’ DS Harlow took a sip of tea, making quick notes on a pad whilst Holly talked.

‘A week later. He rang me and said he was really sorry he took Lydia’s money, but he still needed an extra twelve hundred to clear the debt. Lydia always forgave him, but she told me this time he had taken everything from her savings account. She’d worked her backside off for a lifetime and he had stolen it all. And then he had the nerve to ask me for more money.’ Holly knew what was coming and she needed to be careful. The anger was still threading through her voice, even after all these years and everything that had happened since.

‘You were a boxer, weren’t you? DI Harper said you were really good.’

Holly glanced up from her tea, surprised. She supposed it just reinforced her impression that DI Harper had always been obsessed with her family. ‘Yeah, I loved it. I was modelling quite a lot by then too, because I’d won a lot of competitions. The last one was at the National Championships.’ She smiled, oddly nostalgic, wistful even. ‘My life was crazy good, and I had an agent and everything. She got me a sports magazine cover and it just went from there.’

‘It must have been tough to give all that up,’ DC Marriot said gently.

‘Yeah. When I look back, I think it started to go wrong again when Jay came back. You know, I felt like here was my brother, dragging me down again. That sounds really bad, doesn’t it? He was … he was crying down the phone. Anyway, he told me to take the extra money in cash to an address …’ She paused, keeping her face a careful mask of concentration, as if she was just trying to remember what had happened. ‘Jayden told me to meet him at the address at eleven that night with the extra money. He said it had to be cash because it needed to be untraceable.’

‘Why did you agree to give him the money when you knew he had just stolen from your aunt?’ DS Harlow’s voice was colourless, but her chin was still proper on her elbow, eyes raking Holly’s face.

Holly met her gaze. ‘He promised that if I gave him the money he would just go this time, really go right away. I asked where he’d been, what the hell he’d been doing and all that, but he just ignored the questions and went on about how this was going to save his life. He never at any point mentioned a girlfriend or any kids.’ She felt it was important to hammer this home.

‘But why did you believe him this time? You’ve just told me he was a habitual offender, and a liar.’ DC Marriot was flicking through notes on her screen. ‘Was there a particular reason, something he said that made you believe he had changed?’ She pushed back a stray wisp of hair. As she leant forward Holly could smell her perfume. It was unexpected, light and floral and didn’t seem to suit her icy persona.

‘I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t really believe him, but I had sorted my own life and just wanted him to go away again. I just assumed he was back on drugs. When we were talking, I even had ideas about making him take me to his dealer and giving them the money myself, sorting it all out … How stupid is that? I was furious, and … I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably the same as all the other times – but also what if this time it was true and he really was in danger?’ She said this carefully, remembering almost too late she needed to be cautious, not honest. It hadn’t been that at all. She had been so angry, so furious with him for invading their lives again, for taking Lydia’s money that pity had been the last thing on her mind.

‘You never thought of calling the police?’ DS Harlow asked doubtfully. She was tapping the pen against her teeth, eyes narrowing as they rested on Holly’s face. Her round cheeks were stained red in the warm kitchen, and time and lifestyle had scored harsh lines around her eyes and mouth.

‘Of course not. Look, DS Harlow …’

‘Make it Steph,’ the other woman said helpfully. She made a few more quiet notes, watching the other two women.

DC Marriot continued, ‘We know how the estate worked, and how it works now, and yes we’re on first-name terms with most of the Nicholls family. Not to mention Mason Balinta.’

Holly flashed her a sharp glance, but she smiled. ‘I’m being honest with you. We know we aren’t welcome on Seaview and never have been, but that doesn’t mean we have to let people like the Nicholls family run wild. Returning to that night – you eventually went to meet Jayden to give him the money?’

‘Yes. I was half an hour early. The bus stop was right next to the estate he was living on. It was so close, only in Panfield, that I felt like he had been laughing at us all along. Christ, we’d all looked for him, and he’d been holed up in that rabbit warren only a stone’s throw from us. I found the right block of flats, and went up to the eighth floor. The door to 101 was open, just a bit …’ She was lost in the past, walking through that door into the hell that lay beyond. Her heart sped up, and she clung to the side of the chair, hearing her own voice from miles away …

She was used to replaying these memories. But this time there was a difference. She couldn’t stop thinking about the boy. Why had nobody picked up that there had been another kid? There had only been one cot in the flat, surely.

‘Jayden?’ She stepped nervously through the door, glancing from left to right, phone out in one hand, the cash safely stashed in her pocket. She’d been freaked walking around here with a wad of banknotes, but she’d made it.

The sour smell hit the back of her throat, and she fumbled for a light switch in the narrow hallway, hand shaking. The flat was tiny, just a big room with a kitchen area at one end. Two mattresses were laid next to each other on the threadbare carpet, and sprawled across both, on her front, arms outstretched, was a woman.

The blood was soaking into the carpet, splashed across the wall in a horror-film arc, and smeared on the side of the kitchen units. The place was torn apart, with paper, magazines, clothes and toys strewn around the body.

‘Jayden?’ It was a whisper. There were two doorways leading off the main room, and Holly instinctively stepped back towards the front door, looking over her shoulder, terrified that the attacker was still here, waiting, watching her. But her voice echoed around the flat, and after a while she plucked up the courage to walk towards the second doorway. A tiny bathroom, and beyond, a small bedroom with peeling wallpaper. In the corner stood a cot piled high with blankets. Jayden had a baby? A girlfriend?

The place was empty now. Whoever had done this had gone, and she could hardly leave without doing anything. Shoving away the thought of an intruder jumping her from behind, she knelt next to the woman. Her first thought was that she was dead, but her skin was warm. She had no obvious wounds, which was puzzling given the amount of blood in the flat. Her dark hair spread across the floor and her head, turned sideways, showed her eyes were shut. Around her neck, also caught in the material, she wore a gold-coloured necklace, letters twisted around a chain, which formed the name Larissa.

There was no sign of breathing, and in the silence of the flat Holly could hear nothing but her own gasping breath, feel nothing but terror in her own drumming heartbeat. She fumbled to press the right buttons on her phone.

Chapter 8

‘Do you want a glass of water?’

She could hear someone running a tap, an arm around her shoulders, but she was still miles away, years away, crouched alone in the flat with a dead woman. It wasn’t until the emergency services arrived that the other body had been discovered. A three-month-old baby girl had been suffocated where she lay, and hidden under the pile of blankets. At last she sat up, blinking away tears. ‘Sorry. I tried not to think about it and I’ve managed to shut it all away. But now …’

‘It’s all right, you’re doing well. I’m sorry to have to ask and upset you, but this could be really important.’ DC Marriot leant across the kitchen table again. ‘Can you manage to finish for us, do you think?’

Holly took a gulp of water and nodded. The shame flooded her, as she had known it would. But she had admitted all this in court, there was no point in denying it now. ‘The ambulance call handler told me to start CPR, and I … I told her I was doing compressions, but I wasn’t. I just froze, and I couldn’t bring myself to press down on her chest. I just stared at her all that time …’

‘I read the coroner’s report, Holly, and you must know what it said. Larissa died of strangulation. Going by the estimated time of death, by the time you arrived there was probably nothing anyone could have done. She was dead already,’ DS Harlow told her.

‘I know …’ But there might have been a chance, a chance she could have saved her, and nothing anybody said – then or now – could convince her otherwise. Holly bit her lip, and continued slowly, ‘I was terrified they would find Jayden outside somewhere, dead too, but later the police said he was a suspect. There was so much blood, I was sure it had to be at least partly his. There was never anything mentioned about another child, though. There wasn’t!’

‘No, we reviewed the files, and it appears that Larissa was never officially registered at any doctor’s surgery or hospital, and her child, or children, weren’t either. In fact, legally her baby didn’t exist. I’ve double-checked, and it looks like – if I had to hypothesise – perhaps if they had another child, they slept on the sofa-bed? It does seem odd that there was no evidence at all of a boy.’

‘They would have been so near in age that perhaps any baby clothes, supplies and toys would have been assumed to be the dead girl’s.’ DS Harlow shrugged. ‘If this boy was living there with his parents and sister there was nothing obvious to suggest his existence. In fact, the few possessions they owned were already packed up, as though a move was imminent.’

The other woman nodded. ‘It was assumed that once he had the money, your brother and his family were going to run. But after Larissa’s murder, Jayden never got back in contact at all? Not even to collect the money you were bringing him?’ DC Marriot was tapping the table idly with one hand now. Her fingernails were short and colourless.

‘No. The money he took from Lydia wasn’t in the flat, and his bank account hadn’t been used for months.’ Holly looked directly at both police officers. Her voice flat, she said, ‘The investigation was pure hell for my family, with police interviews and then dealers from the Seaview being arrested. The other families blamed us for bringing police onto the estate; my dad had a fight with DI Harper …’

There was a glimmer of amusement, quickly hidden, in DC Marriot’s glacial eyes, and even Holly, torn between emotions and fighting hysteria, felt her lips quirk.

Steph continued, ‘But the evidence showed the blood in the flat belonged to Alexi and Roman Balinta, the men who eventually confessed to killing Larissa and her baby girl. There was no sign that Jayden had harmed either his baby or his girlfriend. Yet both men denied seeing your brother. It was Larissa who attacked both men with a knife, obviously defending her children.’

Holly nodded, fiddling with her phone. ‘Yes. I still remember how in court they said Larissa fought back.’ Her voice shook precariously but she carried on, ‘But Jayden was gone again, and then just before Christmas, the police came round to say that some random dealer, a real small-time player, had confessed to helping get rid of Jayden’s body. He said he dumped it off Rydden Bay soon after Larissa was murdered, and that he did it on Roman’s instructions.’

Holly choked a bit. ‘As you know, his body has never been found, and Roman wouldn’t say anything at all about the dealer’s claim. As far as I remember he just kept saying no comment. I suppose I almost hoped Jay was dead by then. The waiting for the court case and seeing Lydia and my dad struggling to get by … It was all in the papers about Jayden’s past, and our family got dragged through the dirt. They made it sound like we were pure evil. It was a really shit time, but we just about got through it.’

‘Larissa was one of the girls trafficked by Joey and Gareth Nicholls, wasn’t she? I saw on the files that Gareth was charged with several offences, but he only served three years because of a technicality. There’s been nothing on him since.’

Again, that change of tone when the Nicholls brothers were mentioned. Nicholls Transport were still doing their thing, all these years later, and the police still couldn’t touch them. ‘Yes. It came out that Larissa originally thought she was engaged to some bloke up in Yorkshire – that’s where she came from – but she was only fourteen, and he turned out to be part of a scheme to round up girls arranged by Joey. Larissa’s mum was a junkie and Larissa had been skipping school, hanging around the town. I suppose she was an easy target, and when you lot looked for her, she’d just vanished. She apparently told her mum she was moving away with her fiancé.’

‘They call it the “lover boy” sting, or the “Romeo game”,’ Steph volunteered. ‘These men find vulnerable girls, sadly often those who have fallen through cracks in the care system, and present themselves as romantic interests. Once the girl is hooked, they slowly draw her away from any friends or family, and then when she runs off to “get married” it comes out that girl is a frequent runaway, skips school, maybe has a history of petty crime already … In reality of course she is then sucked into a system of abuse and is exceptionally difficult, if not impossible, to trace. We do our best, and naturally missing children are a priority, but I’ve worked on cases where a teenager has been missing for weeks before anyone starts to take notice.’

‘I never could understand why Jayden didn’t mention Larissa and the baby when he asked for money,’ Holly said. ‘We never even found out how they originally met, but I suppose it might have been when he was dealing. The boys used to deliver to the clients at these special houses, and then eye up the girls who were working there. But if Jay had fallen for Larissa so much that they’d not just had a baby, but had two children, why didn’t he tell me?’

‘Your brother knew you were friends with Cathryn Davies, so perhaps he thought you might be angry he had left her, and his other children, for Larissa,’ DC Marriot suggested. In her mind’s eye Holly could see the boy, Jayden’s boy, lying helpless and unconscious under his white shroud of hospital sheets. Another child.

‘Yeah, maybe. Roman and Alexi were high, weren’t they, when they went to collect Jay’s debt? Mason was always bigging up his sons, even Niko, the baby of the family, saying they were going to inherit the business, going to be millionaires … But they were always losers, and violent with it. They didn’t have to kill Larissa, or her baby.’ Holly felt empty now, hollow and sick. She still had nightmares about the baby, even though she hadn’t discovered the tiny body.

‘Supposing the boy in hospital is Jayden’s … He would have been around a year old when his mother was murdered, so perhaps your brother took him to safety? We aren’t saying your brother is definitely alive, but I would say it’s a possibility. The other possibility, of course, is that Jayden did escape that night, with his other child, but was later murdered, and the child has been raised by someone else.’

‘If he is alive … Fuck, I can’t even think …’ Holly shook her head, scraping back her hair with all ten fingertips. ‘I just can’t imagine it, but my dad is going to go mental when you tell him it’s a possibility.’

The two women stood up to go, and DC Marriot turned back at the front door. ‘Holly, be careful, won’t you? This isn’t just about the boy, and his possible identity. We also have to consider who left him in your car.’

Holly sighed. ‘I’m hardly going to forget, am I? But yeah, thanks, I’ll take care.’

***

Holly watched the two policewomen get into their car and head off to her dad’s flat. He still lived next to the betting shop, but one of her cousins ran the bookies business now. Most of the time her dad was too pissed to remember his own name, so good luck them getting anything coherent out of him. They’d probably get the wheels nicked off their car too, just for going onto the Seaview.

What a mess. Her head was buzzing, and she wandered around the house picking things up and putting them down. Jayden’s son? If he was alive why had he never been in touch? Larissa had had another child – given the timeframe, it fitted. Either that or they were wrong about the age of the boy in hospital and Jayden had survived, and got over Larissa pretty quick. Perhaps they were right with the second theory. Maybe her brother had given his baby son to someone he trusted to look after him, but then got himself in trouble with the wrong people. Again.

Chapter 9

Holly reached for her phone. ‘Cathryn?’

Her best friend answered on the second ring, her voice quick and sharp. ‘Where the hell have you been, girly? I’ve left four messages on your voicemail since you came out of hospital, and I’ve only had one text and one phone call. What’s going on, Holly? I’ve been so bloody worried about you.’

‘Sorry. It’s been weird. Look, can I come over?’

‘Of course. I’m just putting Angel down for a nap. I’ll open a bottle.’

‘It’s twelve o’clock,’ Holly said, her heart lightening, despite herself.

Cath was always there for her, always ready to help despite being a single mum with five kids. She was the type of girl who only ever wanted to have fun, and had slowly morphed into the type of woman who inspires awe in her friends by juggling kids and work on her own, whilst being blatantly honest about how tough it could be. Her huge clan of aunts, uncles and cousins all helped out with the childcare, but the kids’ dads had all buggered off. The fact that two of the dads were Niko and Jayden hadn’t altered the friendship. Holly’s best friend, Lydia often said with a smile, was a force of nature.

‘Whatever, I’ve had a bitch of a week, babes. We’ll walk to school to get the brats later, then I can take the twins in the buggy and they won’t screech so much.’

Holly grabbed her coat, pulling the fake fur hood snugly around her face, and set off for the Seaview. Her road of respectable Victorian semis ran down to the railway bridge. After that the houses became blocks of flats, with smaller buildings squeezed together, dwarfed by the grim tower blocks.

The light drizzle was whipped across Holly’s face by an icy lash of wind. She crossed the road, head down, and took the footpath that led to Cathryn’s house. High wooden fences either side killed the wind, but the path was dank, and gloomy, the mud strewn with cigarette butts, rubbish and empty bottles.

Stepping over an odd assortment of rotting furniture, which included a sofa and the remains of a double bed, Holly allowed her mind to drift again. Every step was familiar from here onwards. She and Jayden had played football in that road, had smoked in that playground, spinning slowly on the creaking swings, feet scuffing the gravel. Niko had tried his luck with Cathryn behind those green-encrusted concrete garages. Roman, Alexi and Devril had played basketball next to that tower block, and Cath’s mum owned the chippie in the next road. She would give the kids greasy paper bags of salty chips drenched in vinegar and only charge them half the usual price. The usual mix of emotions when she came back to the Seaview made her stomach roll uneasily. There was sadness, nostalgia, a touch of fear that she didn’t quite belong anywhere now.

A car screeched past, jammed with teenagers, the radio blaring, and there was a gang of five kids playing football on the scrubby grass that bordered the Seaview, on the edge of Beach Road. Their yells echoed across the wasteland, bouncing off the concrete walls of the tower blocks.

Cathryn’s house, part of a block of grimy terrace houses, was strewn with the chaos of five children, and Holly, as usual, felt instantly at home. The rooms smelt of polish, perfume and babies, and there were piles of clean washing on the table, contrasting with the piles of dirty washing on the kitchen floor. Make-up covered the tiny worktop, and Cathryn’s uniform was hung up to dry over the sink.

Relaxing, she sank down with a sandwich and a glass on the crumb-encrusted sofa, narrowly avoiding a dozen plastic Lego bricks.

‘Right, babes, what the fuck is going on?’ Cathryn sat opposite her, baby monitor wedged between two cushions, wine bottle on the table between them. Her long platinum-blonde hair was tied up in a knot, her pretty face was bare of make-up, and she wore her usual ripped skinny jeans and cropped pink velour hoodie top, which showed off her flat, improbably tanned stomach.

Holly took a deep breath. ‘The police came over to mine after I dropped Milo at school this morning. They said they got the DNA results back from the lab, and the boy in hospital is related to me. Cath, they reckon he’s Jayden’s kid.’

Cath stared with her mouth open, baby blue eyes wide and shocked. ‘But Jay’s dead, so how …’ She stopped talking, leant over, and sloshed white wine into both their glasses. ‘The fucking bastard. Do you really think he’s just been living somewhere else all this time?’

‘I don’t know. They don’t know either. Going by the age of the boy they reckon he’s Larissa’s kid, unless Jayden had someone else on the go. Suppose Jayden is alive, I don’t understand why that dealer would have lied and said he helped get rid of the body?’

‘Dunno, but if I find out he’s still alive …’ Cath took a long, shuddering breath, ‘Why would he not contact us? Me and the kids, Lydia, your dad and you? Even just to say he was on the run or whatever? I’ve had to tell Sean and Ronnie that their dad’s dead and now what do I do?’

‘Nothing,’ Holly told her quickly. ‘We can’t do anything because we don’t know if he is alive.’

‘You said before that the police went on about Niko and Devril?’ Cath was frowning. She lifted her glass to her mouth but put it down again without drinking, and sloshed wine all over her fingers. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘Yeah, me either. Do you think there’s something going on? Niko’s out, Devril is hanging around again, and then Jayden shows up with his kid?’

‘I really don’t know, but if they’re planning some kind of business takeover they can forget it. The Nicholls have everything sewn up round here, and nobody asks any questions. Rohan, you know he’s one of Joey’s sons, and he is fit, well he came over a few months ago asking about Niko. I think they were checking him out, because it was before he got released.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘To see if he was worth talking to? I dunno. I told you, Niko had always said he had some money stashed. When we were together he used to go on about it and how we could move house and all that. Am I a mug or what?’

‘You’re not, even if I really can’t see how you could have sex with Niko, let alone have a kid with him,’ Holly told her. ‘Not that I can talk, but your taste in men is terrible!’

Cath flicked her a V-sign, and continued, ‘And the Mancinis are doing a lot of the driving and a lot of the dealing now, so they’re well happy being part of the Nicholls’ operation. Mason’s about to croak, your dad won’t give a shit who’s doing what … I dunno. My family just do their thing no matter who’s in charge, whether it’s legal or not, as long as they get paid.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Except my mum, but she’s got the chippie, hasn’t she? Anyway, Dev would never hurt you, Holly, whatever’s going on. Did you know he’s a journo now though? Freelance and does a bit for all the red tops. Lots of dramz and uncovering juicy stories.’

‘No! Since when? I knew he was a writer but I never thought of journalist.’ A journalist – Devril had chosen a profession that they had all hated ever since Larissa’s death. It was almost as bad as joining the police. Holly bit her lip, swallowing hard. Her experience of journalists, from Jay’s trial to the present interest surrounding Jay’s son, wasn’t good. They were tricky bastards, and they wrote whatever they wanted, no matter what you said. ‘You never said!’

‘You never asked. Actually it was only the day before you had the car accident that I found out, so there hasn’t exactly been a good moment to tell you. I heard a bit of gossip, and I’m a nosy cow, aren’t I? Hell, you know what this place is like, but I googled him and for once the old bags are right. The word is he’s come back to get a story on Niko’s release, but I’m sure that’s a load of crap. Niko’s hardly the most interesting crim, is he? But Jayden, fuck me, my mind is totally blown …’ Cath shook her head, blue eyes suspiciously bright as she chattered away. ‘We need to change the subject for a bit, so I can get my head around this. Talk to me, Holly. How’s Tom behaving? Any more bitchy texts? I bet he’s absolutely loving all this drama. It proves he was right all along about your dodgy past.’

Holly was still thinking about Devril’s career change. It wasn’t mentioned on his social media pages. She had supposed he must be a copywriter or something. It had never crossed her mind he would be a reporter. Had he been following her? What story could he hope to get out of her? ‘Tom’s still an arsehole. He also thinks the accident proves I’m an unfit mother and he accused me of sleeping around. Actually, since I asked him about the texts they’ve stopped coming. He told me I was going crazy and I must have sent them to myself.’

Cath rolled her eyes, seizing her sandwich and taking a huge bite, as Holly continued, ‘He popped round with another massive gift for Milo, and pissed off back to his fancy lecture tour. Total bastard. What about Liam?’ Cath’s most recent ex had left her with another child and more heartbreak.

Her friend swallowed hard and ran a long bubble-gum-pink nail across her lips before she answered. ‘Total bastard. Hasn’t paid any child support for the last three months now, and he’s shacked up with some other girl in Panfield. It’s like history repeating itself. They can all fuck off, the whole lot of them!’ Suddenly she was crying and laughing at the same time, tears streaming down her cheeks, and spluttering crumbs and spit. ‘Oh fuck, Holly, what are we going to do? I’m not sure I can handle this. Jay’s been dead for a long time now, and I’m not sure I want to deal with all that stuff again. And what are you going to do about his kid? I really, really want to feel like I’ve moved on, but we never can, can we, if this is true?’

Holly moved across to sit next to her best friend and wrapped her arms around her skinny body. ‘I know, I don’t think I can take any more either, not with the divorce and everything. Hey, did you get a new necklace? That’s cute.’

Cath rested her head on her friend’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she spoke into Holly’s navy jumper. ‘Got it on sale. We should be glad if Jay’s not dead. If only he could see us now, he’d be gutted we’re not dancing on the table and opening another bottle of Prosecco.’

‘Depends why he’s back. Depends why they’re all back, doesn’t it really?’ Holly murmured, half to herself. They clung together for a moment, before the baby monitor flickered and emitted a high-pitched wail.

When the babies were settled comfortably on Holly and Cath’s laps with their bottles, Cath continued, ‘Remember when you and Dev used to go to the gym together? Niko never believed you were actually training, until you started competing.’

Holly smiled, shifting the baby to her other arm, revelling in the warm scents of baby skin and hair. It was a sharp reminder of the child Larissa had lost. She would have held her like this, comforted her when she cried … and the boy too. ‘Niko was too lazy to imagine anyone going to the gym to work out. He just used to pose with weights at Shoey’s because he couldn’t actually lift them.’

Cath giggled. ‘Looked all right though. And he had a good body considering he didn’t do anything.’

Holly scrunched up her nose. It was weird, having a perfectly normal conversation, whilst there were all these electric undercurrents floating beneath their banal words. She and Dev had been part of the gang, but as the kids started to pair off in their teens, it was always Cath and Jay, and her and Dev.

It was funny she and Cath had stayed friends. Tom hated Cath, and the feeling was mutual. When Holly got pregnant, her best friend had sat her down and told her exactly what she thought of Tom, and suggested Holly move in with Lydia and raise Milo on her own.

Cath was watching her, straightening her baby’s clothes with gentle fingers. ‘You two always wanted to get out of the Seaview, didn’t you?’

‘I suppose.’

‘You did. Dev would always talk about getting away from his uncle and setting up on his own, and you were super clever at school. You wanted to be a vet once, do you remember?’

‘Yeah,’ Holly sighed. After she walked out the evening after the trial, she’d gone to stay with a friend in town. She had been a savvy teen, and it hadn’t taken long to sort out accommodation, to set herself up away from her past. The fact that she’d got good grades seemed to be a sign, and she drifted along, reinventing herself. At nineteen, studying English Literature had seemed like a good idea, but then so did dating Tom, her tutor. ‘I think I thought I’d go into teaching after my degree.’

‘You would’ve hated it,’ Cath told her.

‘How do you know?’

‘Same way I knew we should work together.’ Her best friend grinned. She glanced at the clock, ‘Look, Holly, I know you’re freaked by this whole Jayden thing, hell I am too, but I think you need to be careful. Someone put Jay’s kid in your car for a reason. You need to watch out, okay?’

The fun faded from the room.

Cath started to put the twins into their pushchair, pushing her hair off her face, and straightening to face Holly. ‘People are saying there’s going to be some kind of trouble between the Balintas and the Nicholls now Niko’s out. Something’s going to go down, hon, and we are stuck right in the middle of that lot. Besides, why else would Jayden come home after all these years?’

‘You really think he’s alive?’ Holly still couldn’t quite make the leap from lighting candles at her brother’s memorial, to him returning to Westbourne.

‘Honestly? I was so shocked when you told me I couldn’t even think straight, but now … I think I do, yeah.’

Chapter 10

Dear Mum,

I’m having a shit day and I wish you were here so bad that I can almost taste it. Sometimes I kneel in front of your wall and screw my eyes tight shut. Dad says if I stay like that and count to one hundred you might reach out to me. If he’s had a bad day he makes us both kneel and times us. We have to sit still for an hour and he gets mad if I move and says I’m ruining it.

I don’t really know what he means. He says he can feel you though. If I’m honest, I can’t feel you at the moment.

We’ve moved around a lot since you died, and of course I don’t remember a lot of the places we’ve been, but we’ve been in this flat for six months now. It’s another different school and they take the piss all the time and say I’m weird because my accent is different to theirs. Whatever. I’m not like Alice Cauldon who says she wants to be a pole dancer and lets the boys look at her pink bra, and I’m not smelly like Ben Alder or stupid like Alex Smith. I’m just me. But they don’t like that, Mum. Sometimes I don’t think Dad likes me either, even though I’ve taught myself to cook and work the washing machine. When he gets hammered, I try and make sure he passes out on the sofa or in his bed.

I look in the mirror and try to figure out why I’m different and why my life is different. But I just see a normal kid with messy hair and a few freckles. A kid who’s got his mum’s black eyes, and his dad’s pointed chin. He’s not fat or thin. He’s not small or tall. He’s just normal on the outside. But they still don’t like me. It’s Kyle Wilson who’s the worst. Today he said I was a loser and a freak because I don’t have a mum. How does he know that? It worried me a bit because part of the plan is that people don’t know much about us, about where we come from or where we are going.

Today when I went back to the shooting range with Dad, I imagined Kyle’s face on the target, with his big white teeth and square face, and I got my highest score ever. Dad was really happy because he says it all counts towards the plan. Every single thing we do is training. When Dad’s not been drinking he can be fun.

But it hurts when people say stuff. Dad says to man up and to be strong or we’ll never be able to make you proud. But it’s hard at the moment and I feel like crying. It hurts inside and I can feel the pain tingling in my fingers. I’m cold too. The flat has mould growing up the walls and the heaters only run if you shove coins in them. If I don’t remember to ask Dad for coins before he starts on the cans then it stays cold.

Don’t worry, Mum, I won’t cry, because boys don’t cry. I know he’s a liar though because I’ve seen him crying for you. I won’t tell him because it might make him crazy and he’s been kind of okay for a few weeks now. Thanks for making him okay for a bit, and if you could keep him away from the beer that would be great.

I love you, Mum x

Chapter 11

After she had dropped Milo at school the next day, Holly dealt with the usual housework and washing, ironing her uniform ready for work. It was weird to be doing mundane things when her life seemed to have gone mental. Part of her wanted to rush back down to the hospital and check on Jayden’s son, but his condition hadn’t changed. And what if whoever dumped him in the car was watching the hospital? Were they waiting for her next move? The protective feelings she had tried to push away since she found him huddled in her car were obviously stronger since the revelation that they were related, but fear of the whole situation was underlying her stray maternal instincts, plus she had Milo to look out for.

Cath’s warning rang in her ears, and she almost felt she had to look over her shoulder the whole time in case she was being followed. Gut instinct still told her that her brother was dead, but if Jay had left his son with someone else, and that person had brought him back to Westbourne … what next?

Holly shoved another load of washing into the machine and yanked her thoughts away from the puzzle. At least Milo was loving being back at school, and his whole class seemed to have signed his cast. Tom seemed to be complying with her suggestion of email communication and hadn’t sent any more text messages. Maybe it would all be okay.

Her phone rang as she finally sat slouched with her cup of coffee at the kitchen table, enjoying the weak sunlight that flooded the kitchen. DC Marriot was not an especially welcome caller.

‘Holly? I just wondered if you had seen the news?’

‘No. Sorry, what?’ Her heart was pounding, and she was clutching her cup so hard her knuckles were white.

‘There was a fight at Yorke Prison early this morning, and two prisoners were stabbed to death.’ Her voice was cool as ever, but clearly there was more. ‘The two prisoners who died were Alexi and Roman Balinta.’

‘Fuck me. I mean … How could that even happen?’ Hot coffee splashed over her fingers and she swore again.

‘We’re trying to find out. Are you at home?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I probably should come round if you don’t mind. I have something to show you.’

Oh double shit, this didn’t sound good. Holly made another coffee whilst she waited. She didn’t need more caffeine; her nerves were jangling as it was and she had the beginnings of a thumping headache. Alexi and Roman were dead? Well, she couldn’t pretend she felt sad that someone had killed the murdering bastards, but how could that happen while they were in prison? And both of them together? She thought she could guess what DC Marriot was going to say, and it would be along the ‘why the hell is all this happening now?’ line.

Holly stood watching the street until the car arrived. She tried to figure out how she felt, and what the fuck was going on. She checked her Twitter feed and found a news item on what was described as a double stabbing. The brothers were thought to have become involved in an argument over drugs. Thoughts jarred in her brain, and the rumble and crash of the bins being emptied outside made her jump. Why would someone bring Jay’s son back into the middle of this?

DC Marriot was immaculate in navy pinstripe and a long dark coat. She marched up to the front door, accompanied by a uniformed officer.

The DC got straight down to business. ‘We’re still working on the details, and obviously the prison service are being fully cooperative, but basically Alexi got into an argument with another prisoner as he was coming back to his cell from the library.’ The DC was uptight today, her petite pixie-like face alert, and her eyes bright as she reeled off the facts.

‘The library?’ Holly queried. She didn’t remember Alexi reading anything more that the back of a ciggie packet.

‘Yes. The argument happened to take place at a time when his brother, Roman, was coming in from the yard. He saw Alexi being attacked, went to help, and the prisoner responsible stabbed them both.’ The uniformed officer looked up from his notes. His expression was sombre.

‘Bloody hell. How did that even happen? I mean, where were the guards or whatever?’ Holly glanced at the uniformed officer, but he was sitting quietly now, still taking notes on the conversation. ‘Actually, I do remember when one of Cath’s cousins was in prison they sent him stuff by drone. But it wasn’t knives, it was just pills and a phone.’

DC Marriot sighed. ‘It is possible to get a knife in, or make one, and yes, drones are commonly used. The prison officers do a great job, but they can’t cover everything. They are convinced, as are we, that this wasn’t a random attack. It was carefully planned to take out both men.’

‘What about the prisoner who killed them?’ For a tiny, crazy moment Holly almost expected her to say Jayden had turned up inside the prison and done it himself to get revenge for Larissa and the baby. This was nightmare stuff. He couldn’t be alive …

‘He was a long-term resident, as they all were in that block, and he was recently diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately the cancer is untreatable and he has just months to live. He doesn’t seem to have had a particular reason to take out the Balinta brothers, but we’re working on that. According to him, Alexi was disrespecting him, they had a row, and he pulled the knife to defend himself. Naturally we are looking at Larissa’s case amongst the other offences that all three men were originally charged with.’

Holly found she couldn’t speak. It was too freaky for words. Could the Nicholls somehow be responsible? Cath mentioned they were asking about Niko. Perhaps they had threatened him, blackmailed him with a hit on his brothers? She shared her thoughts with the two officers, and they nodded, clearly accepting the possibility.

‘But look at this. A piece of paper was found in the pocket of Alexi’s trousers.’ DC Marriot pushed her phone over to Holly.

Holly stared at the photograph on the screen. A piece of lined paper, slightly bloodstained, maybe torn from a notebook:

‘FOR LARISSA’

‘So, what, someone – this prisoner who killed them I guess – put this in his pocket? Someone took out Larissa’s killers for revenge, or at least wanted it to look that way?’

‘Possibly.’

Holly was thinking hard. Alexi had always been a bully, and from the age of ten he’d beaten up all the little kids on the Seaview. Roman was slower to be drawn into a fight, slightly less evil-tempered than his brother, but willing to do anything Alexi said. They had loads of enemies, from every stage of their lives. Even before they killed Larissa and her baby daughter, there would have been a list of people willing to take them out of play. Plus, of course, with them gone, the Balinta family was reduced to just Niko and his dad …

‘It is a possibility that this is not related to anything that has been happening recently, but I don’t believe in coincidence.’ DC Marriot was sipping her takeaway coffee now, eyes narrowed, clearly thinking hard, echoing Holly’s thoughts. ‘We are still very interested in the current dynamics on the Seaview, especially how this will affect certain business deals. But I can’t ignore the fact that all the key players have links to Larissa. Added to this fact, we have the obvious extra information that Devril Mancini has been seen in Westbourne, Niko Balinta is out of prison, and your brother …’

‘You really think my brother is alive and has come back with Niko and Devril?’ Holly considered this, heart pounding, and swallowed hard, trying to force herself out of the nightmare.

The DC shrugged. ‘Again, we honestly don’t know at the moment. It could be that the perpetrator is leading us towards that conclusion, but the reality is something totally different. Obviously, we will be talking to Niko, and trying to track down Devril Mancini, to see if either of them knows anything. Some of my colleagues are with Mason Balinta.’

‘They drew the short straw then? Sorry, this isn’t funny. I just can’t believe it. Are you going to question my aunt again? She’s going crazy wondering if we buried Jayden, metaphorically of course, or if he’s suddenly going to ring the doorbell one night.’

‘At this stage, we’re just trying to establish if there is a link between the incidents. If you can think of anything that might help us, or Niko or Devril, make contact, just ring me.’

‘Yeah, I will.’ But she couldn’t even begin to think where Devril might be hiding. Both Westbourne and Panfield had miles of estates, stretching from the coast to Highton Downs. The thought of Dev getting in touch set her nerves buzzing again. Niko would be back at his dad’s and she couldn’t imagine why he would ring her. But both men brought unwelcome memories. Had she totally wasted her time trying to turn herself into someone else? Someone normal … Tom’s voice came back to her, raised in anger during one of their many arguments. ‘You can’t do it, can you? Can’t really leave it behind. In your heart you’re still one of them, and I don’t want that in a wife!’

‘Holly?’ The DC’s sharp voice broke into her thoughts. ‘You might as well call me Karen, and screw the formalities. I know you don’t trust us, and I get why, but we need to work together.’ She smiled properly. ‘This is turning into a bitch of a case and the DCI is going to want daily updates. Not to mention DI Harper keeping a close eye on things.’

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