ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, a huge thank you to my amazing agent, Anne, who continues to guide and support me through my publishing journey. My thanks also to Kate from Kate Hordern Literary Agency and Rosie and Jessica Buckman for your hard work on the foreign rights. My editor, Katie – you never fail to encourage me and help make my novels better, and your dedication is second to none! I love working with you. A big thank you to Sabah, Elke, Rachel, Molly, Phoebe, Dom and the rest of the brilliant team that make up Avon, HarperCollins – you are all terrific to work with.
I’m very lucky to have great family and friends who continue to encourage and support my writing. Big shout out to J and San who are fabulous friends and staunch supporters (thank you for sharing my books with literally everyone you know!) I look forward so much to our Wednesday nights!
I had a launch for the first time for One Little Lie and was overwhelmed by the love and support – thank you to each and every person who came along (and to those who bought a book!) It was lovely to celebrate with family and friends. I will do it again for The Missing Wife and won’t be as nervous this time!
Thank you to Doug, Danika, Louis and Nathaniel. My ‘little’ family is growing, and we’ve now added Josh and Emily – who both fit into the family perfectly – and by the time this book is published there will be a new baby! I’m so very proud of you, Danika, you are amazing and awe-inspiring. You are going to be a great mum and I’m so excited to become a nanna. Thank you all for believing in me and encouraging me every day.
Grateful thanks to my Psych Thriller Killers: Libby, Carolyn and Caroline – you are all great friends and writing buddies and I couldn’t do this without your support, fun and laughter. I always look forward to meet-ups with you. My thanks also to Lydia Devadason, Louise Jensen, Rosina Farley, Claire Hill, Ian Hobbs (Devon Book Club), The Savvies, and The One That Cannot Be Named, who have offered support online or in person and shared chats about the joys and pitfalls of writing! There are many other authors and bloggers who I chat to and who make writing the most enjoyable it can be, so thank you all.
Knowing that my books are getting into the hands of readers is the best feeling and I feel proud and privileged to be able to write stories for a living. I want to thank every reader who has picked up one of my books, read them, reviewed them, and spread the word. I have had some wonderful messages – I do love hearing from readers! This is for you all – I very much hope you enjoy The Missing Wife.
Turn the page to read an exclusive extract of Sam Carrington’s next chilling thriller …
Prologue
1989
‘Go on, Bella – do it now!’ the girl hissed. She slapped both hands over her mouth to prevent her near-hysterical laughter carrying across the man’s garden and alerting him to their presence.
Bella whipped her head around to look at her friend, her golden hair sweeping across her back like a closing curtain. ‘I don’t want to.’ Her voice was a broken whisper as tears threatened.
‘Don’t be a baby all your life. It’s just a silly game. He can’t even see you, I promise.’ She dared to edge out slightly from her hiding place behind the metal dustbin at the front of the garden, out of direct eye-line of the kitchen window.
The one he was at.
The man, his upper body filling the window frame, stared out – his eyes like black slits, lost beneath bushy eyebrows.
She shrank down lower still. She didn’t want to be the one caught out. She’d done her dare yesterday and succeeded. It was Bella’s turn now.
‘This is a stupid game,’ Bella said, moving forwards, her shoulders slumped, until she reached the bungalow. She pushed herself flat against the wall and the hard-stippled surface dug into the backs of her bare legs. She stood stock-still – only her eyes moved as she sought out her friend. She glared at her, silently begging to be let off the dare.
‘Creepy Cawley, Creepy Cawley’, the other girl chanted, her tone hushed but loud enough to send chills down Bella’s spine. Her legs began to shake, her fear visible. She wished she’d worn her corduroy trousers now, not the stupid cotton shorts again. It’s just a game, no need to be scared. But, despite trying to calm herself, her mum’s words of warning rang in her ears: you must never go near Mr Cawley. Ever. Do you understand? She’d said the police had been called lots of times because of kids trespassing on his property, annoying him. Terrorising him. Those were the words her mum had used. Bella closed her eyes tight, remembering how her mum had put one hand on her hip, holding the finger of her other hand out, wagging it like a metronome as she spoke in a stern voice: ‘It’s important you listen, Bella. To every word I say.’
Her mum said that one day someone would get hurt.
Bella didn’t want that day to be today, or for the one getting hurt to be her.
‘You’re almost there! Go on!’
‘But it’s not nice …’ Bella’s voice susurrated through her gritted teeth.
‘Don’t be a chicken. I won’t play with you anymore if you don’t do it.’
Bella’s eyes, glassy with tears, travelled to the door. It was only a few feet away. But it seemed like the longest journey she would ever make.
Taking a deep breath, she lunged and ran, crashing against the door accidentally as her legs turned to jelly. In her fright she almost bolted without completing the dare, but with her friend’s high-pitched screech hurtling across the garden, shouting, ‘Knock on the door, idiot!’ Bella did as she was told.
Two hard knocks later, her knuckles stinging, she was done.
The two girls ran – squealing with a mixture of exhilaration and terror – out of Creepy Cawley’s garden, out of the cul-de-sac and into the road leading back to their street.
Billy Cawley smiled as he watched their retreat.
They’d be back.
And next time he’d be ready.
Next time, he’d live up to his nickname and give them a real reason to scream.
Chapter One
2019
ANNA
Friday, 12th July
Anna replaced the receiver, forcibly tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked out of the secretary’s office without conversation. It wasn’t the first time her mother had phoned her at work, but it was the more worrying of the calls. She was determined not to pander to her though – she’d responded to Muriel’s demands to leave right away by pointing out she had a responsibility for the children and it was only another hour until the bell. Then she would begin the journey over to Mapledon.
To the house where she grew up.
The one she’d longed to leave way before she had the means to do so.
‘Mrs Denver, Charlie is throwing the papier-maché gloop everywhere!’
The shrill whine of the child brought Anna out of her thoughts.
‘He is going to have to clear up the mess he’s made then, isn’t he?’ She placed her hand on the seven-year-old’s shoulders and guided her back to the classroom. Leaving her class unattended, even for a matter of minutes, was never a good idea – and especially on the final day of the term when all the children were hyped up ready for the summer break. ‘A spirited bunch’ was how the head teacher described them. Anna, whilst agreeing, also thought a few of them were just plain naughty. She’d never have allowed Carrie to act up like that – she expected more from her daughter – whether as a result of teaching other people’s children and witnessing their sometimes-unruly behaviour, or as a result of her own strict upbringing, she couldn’t ascertain. It was a case of the chicken or the egg.
Having finally paired all the children with their respective adults, Anna flitted around the classroom clearing away the activities, tutting at the globs of slushy, sticky newspaper remnants now clinging to the tables like shit to a blanket. As she picked at some of the hardened paper, Muriel’s words played out in her head.
Something’s wrong, Anna. Something is very wrong.
Anna had sighed at her mother’s words, wondering what melo
drama was about to unfold. But her gut had twisted as Muriel carried on with her story.
Now, washing and drying her hands with the small, rough towel, Anna decided she’d have to ring James and get him to have Carrie for the night despite it not being his turn. The journey to Mapledon would only take an hour or so, but she didn’t want to take Carrie there – didn’t want her dragged into whatever was going on – if anything. Her mother could be over-reacting, that’d been her MO even when Anna was a child and before old-age shenanigans took over. But just in case, it would be better to go alone.
Grabbing her bag, she shouted goodbye to the remaining teachers, swept out of the building and climbed into her car. Her blue Escort spluttered into life and she drove out of the school gate. With a heavy weight sitting in her belly, she turned right, joining the traffic that would take her to the A38.
Her mother’s words continued to repeat themselves inside her mind as she drove:
There was such a racket at the front of the house, it scared me half to death. When I mustered the courage to go out there, I found it.
Found what, Mum?
The doll’s head. Hammered to my front door.
Chapter Two
2019
LIZZIE
Friday 12th July
The envelope, its corner peeping out from within the clump of mail she’d shoved behind the purple key pot – the one neither of them actually used for their keys, preferring instead to spend stressful minutes searching for the last place they’d flung them – glared at her like an accusation. Lizzie snatched it up, then slammed it down on the counter, taking a step back as though it were a dangerous object about to inflict harm.
Something told her it would do her harm. Its content, anyway. Mentally, not physically. She knew physical pain, had endured years of it growing up in various care homes. She could cope with that; she was hardened to it. Her mental well-being had never caught up, though. That was still fragile, like butterfly wings – delicate, prone to breaking. She had to guard herself from outside factors.
Guard herself from the words the envelope held within.
She’d ignored it for as long as possible. Hidden it from Dom. Tried to forget about it. She should’ve ripped it up and binned it. Why hadn’t she? Sleep had been impossible, her thoughts, her imagination, keeping her awake hour after hour. She knew this had to be done.
Taking the envelope once again, she stared at the post mark. At the logo. It was definitely from the solicitor.
It’d happened thirty years ago. Lizzie had only been eight-years-old, but some memories never faded. Some intensified with age. There was much she didn’t remember – but those gaps had often been filled in for her by the people in the children’s home. Carers, teachers, the other kids – they’d all had something to say about it.
A sour taste filled Lizzie’s mouth as saliva flooded it.
She had to face this.
Tearing open the envelope before she could change her mind again, she pulled the crisp-white headed paper from it.
Dear Mrs Brenfield,
I write to inform you that Mr William Cawley is to be released from HMP Baymead, Devon, on the 9th July 2019.
Lizzie’s vision blurred, her grip loosened. Before she could read on, the paper fell to the ground.
Creepy Cawley had been released from his 28-year sentence three days ago.
He was a free man.
To read on, pre-order I Dare You from Sam Carrington here.
Your daughter is in danger.
But can you trust her?
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If you play with fire …
… You’re going to get burned.
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‘My name is Alice. And my son is a murderer.’
They call it mother’s intuition, but can you ever really know your own child?
Available to buy now in ebook and paperback
About the Author
Sam Carrington lives in Devon with her husband and three children. She worked for the NHS for fifteen years, during which time she qualified as a nurse. Following the completion of a psychology degree she went to work for the prison service as an Offending Behaviour Programme Facilitator. Her experiences within this field inspired her writing. She left the service to spend time with her family and to follow her dream of being a novelist.
Readers can find out more at http://www.samcarrington.blogspot.co.uk and can follow Sam on Twitter @sam_carrington1
By the same author
Saving Sophie
Bad Sister
One Little Lie
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