Girl A Read online

  Girl A

  Dan Scottow

  Copyright © 2021 Dan Scottow

  The right of Dan Scottow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Print ISBN 978-1-913942-38-0

  Contents

  Love crime, thriller and mystery books?

  Also by Dan Scottow

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Acknowledgements

  A note from the publisher

  Love crime, thriller and mystery books?

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  Also by Dan Scottow

  Damaged

  For my Dad. Trying every day to make you proud.

  Prologue

  July 1985, Perry Barr, Birmingham, England.

  Meandering through the crowd, Wendy Noakes has a broad smile on her face, and Billy’s tiny hand in her own. The warm early-evening sun beats down on her bare shoulders. People are out in droves for a visiting summer fair. Billy is too young for the rides, but he wanted to come. Wendy’s husband is at home. He couldn’t be bothered with it all. Noisy crowds and screaming teenagers are not his thing. But Wendy doesn’t care. These are the memories that Billy will look back fondly on when he’s older. It’s a shame that Doug isn’t here, but at least Billy will remember his mother at the fair, in the sunshine. Perhaps he will recall her backless white linen sundress, with the three large wooden buttons on the front, or the pink plastic slides in her long sandy-blonde hair. Maybe not. But hopefully he will remember tonight.

  Brightly coloured balloons are tied up in bunches all around them. The ghost train rattles on its tracks, cutting over the rest of the noise. Laughter and the odd scream bellow out from all directions, as kids and adults alike scare themselves silly on the rides. There is a clatter as a pile of cans is knocked over somewhere close by.

  Billy giggles.

  Wendy looks down at her beautiful son. His blond, almost white, hair curling at the ends. Doug says Billy needs a haircut, but Wendy wants to let it grow. He looks so adorable in his blue-and-white stripy T-shirt, and denim shorts with turn-ups, finished with a little pair of brown sandals. Her heart melts as she looks at him, and he beams back at her. The sickly-sweet smell of sugar and popcorn drifts into Wendy’s nostrils, and she smiles again, crouching down beside Billy.

  ‘Would you like to try some candyfloss?’ Wendy asks him.

  Billy looks confused. He doesn’t know what Wendy means, so she points to the pink fluffy mass that a child nearby is gobbling up greedily. Billy smiles and nods. Wendy straightens up, and they walk hand in hand to the food stall. A spotty teenager behind the counter looks towards Wendy and she holds up two fingers, nodding at the candyfloss maker. Billy giggles again as the girl winds the sugary strands around a wooden stick. Wendy can’t stop grinning as her son sees the joy of candyfloss for the first time in his life. As she watches, she hears a voice from her left-hand side.

  ‘Wendy?’

  She turns her head and sees an old classmate from school approaching. Becky, or Brenda, she can’t remember, and bites her lip in embarrassment. They were never particularly close. The woman grins as she marches towards the food stall.

  ‘Wendy Boyce? I thought it was you. How the devil are you?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks. It’s Wendy Noakes now. How are you? I’ve not seen you since…’ She trails off, hoping the woman will fill in the blanks.

  She obliges instantly.

  ‘Leavers’ dance! Can you believe it’s been twelve years? I didn’t know you were still living around here. I never see you about.’

  Wendy blushes and smiles as she thinks about that night, a long time ago.

  The awful bubblegum-pink dress she wore.

  She looks down at the grass.

  From behind the counter, the server holds out the two sticks of candyfloss, breaking the awkward silence that has ensued.

  ‘That’ll be three quid, please,’ the girl shouts over the noise of the fair. Wendy lets go of Billy’s hand, rummaging around in her purse for the change. She hands it over and takes the treats, turning back to Becky, or Brenda. Or is it Bella?

  ‘No. I moved away for a little while, into London. My mother was unwell last year, so my husband and I came back to be closer to her.’

  ‘Oh, what a shame. How is your mum now?’

  ‘Yes, she’s much better, thanks. So… what about you?’

  Wendy doesn’t care, but she was raised to be polite.

  The woman reaches up and fans out her hand, wiggling her fingers excitedly to show a plain gold wedding band.

  ‘Chris and I got married… no surprises there, I suppose. He’s over on that horrible ride.’ She points at a huge machine, spinning carriages of people around, high into the air. ‘No, thank you! So me and Chris Junior here are getting some treats, aren’t we, hun?’ A plump boy a few years older than Billy stands near her, and nods impatiently. He’s more interested in the food than the conversation.

  ‘Have you got kids?’ the woman asks, and Wendy smiles.

  ‘Just the one for now. This is Billy.’ She glances down behind her, but Billy is not there. She spins round in confusion, looking for her son, but she can’t spot him among all the people. Her heart pounds. The noise seems to dissipate, and all she can hear is her own heavy breathing, her heart thumping in her chest. Everything seems to
slow down.

  ‘Billy?’ she shouts as confusion turns to panic. People turn around, hearing fear in her voice.

  The woman takes a step closer to her. ‘Is everything okay, hun?’

  ‘It’s my son. He was right here… next to me. I only let go of his hand for a second…’ She turns towards the girl who had served her. ‘Did you see my son? Do you know where he went?’

  The teenager stares blankly at Wendy and shakes her head. ‘He was right here, we ordered the candyfloss together, remember?’ The girl seems embarrassed. She’s not used to dealing with uptight mothers.

  Becky, or Brenda, or whatever her name is, places a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t you try to calm down, hun. He’s probably wandered off to look at something. He can’t have gone very far now, can he?’

  Wendy shrugs her hand off. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down. My son is gone. He’s only two.’ She drops the candyfloss onto the grass by her feet and runs a few paces into the throng of people.

  ‘Billy! Billy, where are you?’ She’s screaming now. People turn and stare, Wendy doesn’t care. She glances around, but she can’t see his stripy T-shirt anywhere. Everything is blurry. Tears distort her vision.

  ‘BILLY!’

  People are milling around her, asking what’s wrong.

  She can hear the murmur of the crowd.

  ‘My son. He’s two. Blond hair!’ she shouts. ‘He’s wearing a stripy blue-and-white top and denim shorts. Has anybody seen him?’

  But the people around her shake their heads.

  Wendy wants it all to stop.

  She runs from stall to stall demanding if anyone has seen her son, but nobody has been paying attention. They are all enjoying themselves, and there are lots of small children wandering around. Wendy searches desperately, but she can’t find him.

  As the red sun sets on the horizon, across the park at the edge of the field, three tiny figures walk away from the fair. Their elongated shadows trail across the grass behind them. A little blond boy in a stripy T-shirt holds the hand of a young girl, as she and an older boy lead him into the woods, away from his mother.

  Away from his life.

  1

  Late August, present day, Cranbrooke Farmhouse, Falmer, East Sussex, England.

  Two little words.

  That was all it took. Eight letters scribbled on a scrap of paper, and one family’s world was about to come crashing down around them. When you imagine things that might alter the course of your life, you think of major catastrophic events.

  A car crash. An illness. Hard-hitting, a punch in the face.

  In reality, sometimes it’s not like that at all. As Charlie Carter sat watching the television with his wife Beth on a Friday evening, neither of them had any idea that everything they knew was about to change.

  A quiet existence was all they wanted. And so they made one for themselves. Two great kids. A nice secluded farmhouse with no neighbours. The Carters kept themselves to themselves and they were happy that way.

  As Charlie watched Beth struggling to stay awake, two fictional detectives on the telly argued about who the killer may or may not be. The security light at the front of the house flicked on suddenly, streaming through the bay window. This was not so unusual in their remote location; often triggered by a cat or a fox, sometimes maybe even a bat.

  But tonight the loud and unmistakable chime of the doorbell closely followed, echoing through their home.

  The dog barked excitedly. Charlie and Beth glanced up from the television and their eyes met across the living room. Charlie frowned, the unspoken question between them, who could that be?

  Beth glanced at the clock on the wall opposite, as did Charlie. Ten thirty. Bit late for a house call, with their closest neighbours being a five-minute drive away.

  Cooper the spaniel ran out to the hallway, still yapping.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Charlie said as he pulled himself up from his armchair. He made his way to the front door, but it surprised Beth that he didn’t open it. She stood up and walked to the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched her husband. He straightened, having crouched to pick something up, and now stood with his back to her, shoulders hunched. From the angle, it looked like he was holding something. His body obscured her view. Charlie turned around scratching his head, a puzzled look on his face. In his hand, a small sheet of paper.

  ‘What’s that?’ Beth asked through a yawn, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  Charlie held up the paper. ‘It’s a note.’

  ‘Who for?’

  Charlie turned it over in his hands. ‘Not sure. It doesn’t say.’ He held it out, and Beth walked over to his side, taking it from him. He waited as his wife read it. She pulled a face and handed it back to him.

  ‘Must be one of Peter’s mates having a laugh or something,’ she said dismissively.

  Charlie opened the front door and stepped out into the darkness, the timer on the security light having turned it off by now. The beam clicked back on as he took a few paces out onto the driveway, gravel crunching under his feet.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out. ‘Anybody there?’

  Beth moved forwards, but lingered in the doorway.

  Nothing. The calm of night. No retreating footsteps. No roar of a car engine, or screech of tyres speeding away from the road at the end of the drive. Only eerie silence.

  Charlie came back into the house, shutting the door behind him and sliding the security chain into place. He turned and walked along the hall into the kitchen, tossing the note onto the worktop. He filled the kettle at the sink and flicked it on to boil. Beth switched off the TV and joined her husband.

  He was staring at the note, the words scrawled in scratchy black ink on the small scrap of paper.

  FOUND YOU.

  ‘Bit weird, though, isn’t it?’ Charlie said, holding it towards his wife. ‘And it’s late. Plus all Peter’s mates will be out with him tonight at that party.’

  Beth took it and folded it in half along the creases, placing it back down in front of her. ‘You know what teenagers are like. Probably a game.’

  ‘If it doesn’t involve his phone, I doubt that very much,’ Charlie retorted, with a sneer.

  The sound of soft footsteps on carpet drew their attention out to the hallway. Daisy, their six-year-old daughter came padding barefoot down the stairs, in her pink unicorn pyjamas, rubbing her eyes.

  Charlie turned, scooping her up in his arms. ‘What are you doing out of bed, you little rascal?’ he whispered into her ear, before kissing her softly on top of her head.

  ‘I heard the doorbell,’ Daisy replied. She wasn’t fully awake yet. Her hair, dark brown, the same as her father’s, matted from slumber.

  ‘Yep, you did. But don’t you worry about that. You should be asleep! It’s very late.’ Charlie spun around with Daisy in his arms, and she giggled.

  ‘I was asleep. The bell woke me up,’ Daisy protested.

  ‘That was very naughty of someone ringing the doorbell at this time of night and waking you up. Why don’t I take you back up to bed and tuck you in?’ Charlie said playfully.

  ‘Okay,’ Daisy replied.

  Charlie carried her over to Beth, who gave her a kiss on the forehead. ‘Night. Sweet dreams, love,’ she said.

  As Charlie turned and walked up the stairs with their daughter in his arms, Beth fingered the note on the worktop, pushing it around as if it were dirty. As if touching it might transfer something foul to her skin. She flicked it open and looked down at the words again.

  Cooper yapped at the back door. Beth shushed him. He sat staring at her, whining. The kettle clicked and Beth poured two coffees. She listened as Charlie’s footsteps plodded down the stairs, and she folded the note back over, crossing the kitchen. She opened the fridge, taking out the milk, before returning to the cups. Charlie leaned on the worktop, picking up the paper again.

  Beth watched his brow knit, as his dark eyes read it once more.

 
‘I’ll ask Peter in the morning when he’s home,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’

  Charlie dropped the note on the worktop and Beth joined him at his side, handing him a cup of coffee. He took it, turning to go up the stairs. ‘Bed.’

  ‘You go. I’ll let the dog out. Be up in a minute.’

  She reached her hand around the back of Charlie’s head, ruffling his short, thinning hair, then pulled his face towards hers. His rough stubble rubbed against her cheek.

  Charlie trudged up the stairs, pulling off his T-shirt as he went. As he entered the bedroom, he threw the top towards the laundry basket in the corner, missing. He walked into the en suite, picking up his electric toothbrush. Cooper was barking from downstairs, followed by the sound of the door closing as Beth let him back in from the garden. Charlie rinsed his mouth, expecting Beth to come join him in the bedroom but frowned when she didn’t appear. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked out onto the landing, standing at the top of the stairs for a moment. The lights were extinguished below, but Beth was still down there. He stood, listening.