The Stolen Sisters: from the bestselling author of The Date and The Sister comes one of the most thrilling, terrifying and shocking psychological thrillers of 2020

by Louise Jensen

  Carly cried harder. Leah and Marie also burst into tears.

  ‘It’s all right. Everyone’s been looking for you. There’s been alleged sightings of you up and down the country, and abroad but… my goodness. You’re here. You’re okay.’

  ‘Please…’ Carly hiccupped out breaths. ‘Take us home.’

  ‘Your poor parents will be so relieved. We’re not far from a police station so—’

  ‘Quickly.’ Carly looked out of the windows fearfully. ‘Before they find us.’ The women exchanged hurried whispers before they pulled away.

  Despite the fan blasting out heat, and the tartan blanket draped over their knees, Carly couldn’t stop trembling. The heat magnified the smell of the dried vomit on their clothes, the urine on their socks. She swallowed down bile.

  Every pothole, each flash of lightning and rumble of thunder made her jump.

  As she tried to stem her tears she was aware of the woman in the passenger seat twisting around, asking her if they’d been hurt, who had taken them, telling her that they were now famous, but Carly couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from the window. Rain slid down the glass. The trees shadowed against an iron sky. In the distance, darker shapes, the buildings from the RAF base. Carly couldn’t bear to see it but she couldn’t turn away either.

  The car slowed, indicators tick-tick-ticked.

  In her peripheral vision Carly caught a movement. She turned her head.

  It was him.

  Doc.

  She inhaled sharply. Her throat was clogged with fear. She couldn’t draw air in or force words out.

  He was so close. If he hurried he could wrench open the door and grab her.

  She felt hot and cold. Sick. Unable to react.

  His eyes found hers and there was something in them that Carly thought she had seen in him before.

  Sympathy?

  Regret?

  He nodded once. The car began to move again. They were leaving him far behind but nevertheless he would always stay with Carly. In her nightmares, in her head.

  She twisted further around in her seat, her palms against the window.

  He was gone.

  Once they reached the police station it all became a blur, as though Carly was, at last, allowing herself to switch off, allowing somebody else to take charge.

  ‘The Sinclair Sisters.’ A crowd of police officers grinned at them as though they had personally found them. ‘You’ve caused quite a fuss.’

  ‘Am I in trouble?’ Carly whispered, knowing it was all her fault. She should have taken better care of her sisters.

  ‘Of course not!’ A lady with a white pixie cut and pink cheeks spoke kindly. ‘I’m Angela and I’ll stay with you until Mum and Dad arrive. Let’s take you somewhere more private while we wait for them. It won’t be long until the vultures find out that you’re here.’

  ‘Vultures?’ Marie asked.

  ‘Tabloids,’ the woman said.

  ‘Do tabloids eat dead people like vultures?’ Marie looked confused.

  ‘Yes, they like to pick over bones. Don’t you worry, my darling.’

  They were ushered into a room and wrapped in blankets. Next to Carly, the radiator was blasting out heat but still she couldn’t stop shivering.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Angela asked.

  Carly shook her head, ‘But Leah twisted her ankle and Marie has been vomiting.’

  ‘We’ll be getting you all checked over by a doctor when your parents are here, but first let’s get something sweet inside of you.’

  Flimsy polystyrene cups of hot chocolate floating with clumps of powder were pushed into their freezing hands. Leah and Marie drained their drinks, not waiting until they had cooled. Carly couldn’t touch hers, her stomach a mass of worry. She didn’t know how to explain herself. She couldn’t make sense of how it all happened. One minute she was texting Dean while the twins were playing and then… Carly began to cry again. How could her parents ever forgive her?

  The twins were on their third hot chocolate when the door creaked open. Her parents rushed inside. Leah and Marie ran over to their father and scrambled up his legs like monkeys climbing a tree. ‘Thank God. Thank God.’ Her stepdad balanced a twin on each hip. Carly’s mum cupped her face.

  ‘Do you hate me?’ Carly asked.

  ‘Hate you? No! If anything, I hate myself. I should have been at home with you all. This wasn’t your fault.’

  The twins wriggled free and pulled at Mum and then all three girls were encircled in arms, Mum and Dad holding them too tightly, whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in their hair. Carly sagged against them as she realized they didn’t blame her, they blamed themselves. It felt like they melded together as one. Carly couldn’t tell where her family began and she ended.

  And there, in the small room with the plain walls and the harsh fluorescent light, Carly felt like she was home.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Sinclair?’ The voice melted the glue that held them together and they fell apart. ‘Can I run through what’s going to happen now? I’m Chief Inspector Graham McDonald.’

  Dad scooped up the twins again.

  ‘We will find the bastards, I promise you that,’ said Graham in a thick Scottish accent while Carly’s mother sobbed into a tissue.

  It seemed to take forever before they were ushered out of the back entrance of the station to avoid the reporters, but still as they were driven past the front of the building cameras clicked firework-night flashes, rapid and bright. Questions were shouted. Outside of their house were news vans. Neighbours stood on steps in their dressing gowns, breath billowing in the frigid night air. It was chaotic and overwhelming and Carly couldn’t wait to be inside, but once back in her bedroom she found it unfamiliar and unsafe.

  For weeks afterwards the twins would creep into Carly’s room after darkness fell, sneaking into the canopied bed she’d found embarrassing before she’d been taken but now she was thankful for the wispy white voiles she could draw around them. Shut out the world. The sisters would cuddle up together and Carly was thankful for the company. She couldn’t bear to be alone even if Leah had started wetting the bed and in the early hours, Marie’s arms and legs would thrash, as though she was running or fighting off an attacker. Carly herself would wake in the middle of the night, her sheets drenched with sweat, and for a nanosecond she’d wonder if it had been some awful, terrible nightmare. Then her tongue would prod the gap in her mouth where her tooth had been knocked out in the van on the way to Norcroft. Her parents had tried to persuade her to go to the dentist. Reassured her that he’d be able to fix it so you’d never know, but she hadn’t wanted to – wanting that physical reminder to never again become complacent.

  Often she’d sense she was being watched, catch sight of a shadow the other side of the voiles. Fear would stab her chest until she peered around the material to see it was her mum watching them, as though she was concerned they would disappear again. In the day Mum often touched the girls, reassuring herself they were really back. A hand on their arms. Fingers brushing the hair away from faces. But she never asked them questions, as though she was afraid to hear the answers. Not wanting to know what her children had been through – but it was there in her eyes, the wondering what the men had done to them. The tentative questions that Carly brushed aside. She couldn’t bear to talk about it. She wanted to tell her the men hadn’t done anything to them but she knew that wasn’t true. Physically they might be unharmed but mentally, emotionally, Carly knew they would never be the same again. Any of them.

  Each day there was talking. Endless talking. Adults with hard eyes and soft voices asked them to draw their feelings. Countless photos of tattoos were slid across the table in front of her until Carly identified the eye on the back of Moustache’s neck. The police knew who he was. Although he’d fled his last known address, they found his brother, Doc, in his flat, hanging from the bannisters. Inexplicably, Carly felt sad when she learned this. They reassured Carly’s parents that they were conf
ident they’d catch Moustache, that they shouldn’t worry, but they did. Her parents seemed to have shrunk since the girls had been snatched. Lines of worry were etched into their faces. Carly caught a whispered discussion between them about moving abroad, somewhere remote, but Carly knew for certain that however far they moved away Moustache would be able to find them if he wanted to.

  Three blind mice, three blind mice.

  Reporters still camped outside their home. They couldn’t go to the park, they didn’t go back to school for ages. Prisoners. Still prisoners. When they did have to venture out, a crowd closed around them, microphones thrust towards mouths, cameras held high above heads, relentless click-click-clicking. The police would form a barrier with their arms and demand everyone clear some room, give them some space. They’d hold hands, Carly, Leah, Marie, her mum and stepdad – a family united – and rush, heads down, never pausing to give a comment.

  See how they run. See how they run.

  Mum made their favourite meals, macaroni dripping with cheese and chicken stuffed with garlic butter, but Carly’s appetite didn’t return.

  ‘Can’t you just forget it’s happened?’ Mum asked wearily.

  ‘Forget?’ Anger flared in Carly’s stomach.

  ‘I don’t mean forget but… it’s like you’re punishing yourself. Punishing us. We need to try and put it behind us. All of it.’

  ‘You don’t know what it was like.’ Carly gripped the edge of the table so tightly she feared her fingers would snap.

  ‘I know but I do know that I can’t go back and change things for you, however much I want to,’ her mum said. ‘I’m trying to make it up to you, Carly. Make everything normal again. Please. Try and eat. You know you love my apple crumble.’

  But Carly pushed her bowl away. Everything tasted of Spicy Tomato Snaps and blackcurrant liquorice sweets. She stalked across the kitchen. Her mum had fetched a glass as Carly lifted a bottle of cherry Coke from the fridge, watching as her daughter fizzed it open and tipped it down the sink, trying to understand, but not.

  As much as her mother smothered her, her stepdad was the opposite. Out of the house at all hours. Tense and angry when he was home. Constantly calling the police station for an update. The phone clutched tightly in one hand, his other hand shaking a fist indicating what he would do to the surviving kidnapper if he ever got hold of him. He would jab off the TV if anyone put it on – the sisters were still featured on every channel. Their scared, pale faces stared out from newspapers. Hordes of cuddly toys were delivered, postmarks from all around the world. Brightly coloured cards depicting balloons, houses, champagne – with messages of welcome home; congratulations! Mum put them all in the bin. Once Carly had fished one out, which read, If you don’t accept Jesus into your lives your girls will be taken again. Her family weren’t religious but that night Carly had knelt at the side of her bed, hands clasped together and prayed.

  The only people Carly could bear to spend time with were the twins. They became a unit of three, bound together by their trauma. It was Carly they turned to for bedtime stories, Carly they handed their hairbrush to each night. Her sisters were all she wanted. All she needed. Carly screamed at her mum so many times to leave her alone, little by little she began to comply. Mum retreated into herself. Her skin seemed to hang off her frame. Her eyes bloodshot, black bags hanging beneath them.

  Why couldn’t the police find Moustache?

  Carly shut everyone out. Ignoring the unread texts on her Nokia, even the one from Dean Malden. He didn’t seem important any more.

  All the time, there was that awful knowing twisting in Carly’s gut. Moustache was still out there.

  It all felt too much, but it turned out that was the lull in the storm.

  It’s incomprehensible that being abducted wasn’t the worst part at all.

  What came after they were rescued was far, far worse.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Leah

  Now

  Archie screams again. My body responds before my mind properly processes what I am hearing. I am rocketing down the stairs, towards the noise, but his screams have now morphed into something else.

  Laughter.

  I fly into the kitchen, Archie is kneeling on the floor, giggling as a puppy licks his face.

  ‘No.’ I back away. Wondering if I’m still dreaming.

  ‘Before you start—’ George holds up his hands. ‘If we hadn’t taken him in, he’d have been put down and Archie’s been asking for a puppy forever.’

  ‘No.’ I can’t seem to think of anything else to say.

  ‘What happened to you wasn’t Bruno’s fault,’ George says gently as though he has read my mind. ‘You can’t keep punishing Archie for what happened.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Am I? Lots of people don’t want pets.

  A rush of heat engulfs me. George places his hand on my shoulder. I angrily shrug him off.

  ‘How can you do this to me?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m doing this for you. If nothing else the dog will be protection.’

  But the only thing I feel I need protecting from in this instant is my husband.

  There’s a smattering of reporters outside the house and for once George agrees that Archie and I should stay home.

  Today.

  I keep checking the doormat but no letter has arrived.

  ‘I’ll go to Tesco’s and do a shop,’ he offers, ‘and pick up some bits at Pets at Home.’ He stalks to the bottom of our drive and informs the crowd that the curtains are staying closed and I won’t be going outside. Some of them drift away immediately. Some of them linger in hope.

  I ring Tash.

  ‘How was the dentist?’ Despite everything, I haven’t forgotten my manners.

  ‘Dentist?’

  ‘Your emergency appointment yesterday?’

  ‘Yes. Fine. Are you okay?’

  ‘You’ll never guess what my husband has done?’ I ask. ‘What?’ she sounds wary.

  ‘He’s bought Archie a dog.’

  ‘He’s a good man,’ Tash says. ‘He only ever tries to do the right thing for you.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’ Irritation creeps into my voice.

  ‘Yours,’ she assures me quickly. ‘It’s just that George, George…’ she begins to cry.

  ‘Tash? What’s wrong?’

  ‘You’re not going to like this.’ Her voice is thick with tears.

  ‘Tash! You’re scaring me. Nothing can be that bad.’

  ‘I wasn’t at the dentist yesterday.’

  ‘Right.’ I’m not sure what to make of it. ‘So where were you?’

  ‘The doctor’s.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  For a second there is silence broken by the odd sniff. ‘I… I’m pregnant.’

  ‘What?’ I’m stunned. ‘But you said you didn’t… you haven’t even got a boyfriend?’

  ‘It was a one-night thing. Listen, Leah. I wanted to tell you but I sounded out George first to see how he thought you’d take it. You know how you are about…’

  ‘Hospitals. Germs. Child safety. Everything,’ I finish for her. She knows the details. All that happened. I know she’s been thinking of me but it’s sad she hadn’t felt able to share her news without considering how it would affect me.

  ‘He asked me to wait until after the anniversary. Said you were fragile enough. You’re lucky to have him, Leah. He wouldn’t have brought the dog home if he thought it wouldn’t be good for you in the long run.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say. You’re doing it alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who will be with you when you give birth?’ Selfishly I am worried she might ask me.

  ‘I don’t know but, Leah, I’ll be okay and hospitals are pretty sterile with their antibacterial dispensers everywhere and… I think… I think I’ll be a good mum. I know I said I didn’t want kids but since I’ve found out I feel all… I don’t know.’

  ‘Maternal?’

  ‘Yeah. I guess. It feels
like a good thing. Not a disaster, you know?’

  ‘Then I’m happy for you,’ I say and I am. It will be another person in my orbit to worry about, but that’s because I will love this baby as much as I love Tash.

  ‘Thanks. So how are you? Really? Has there been a letter today?’

  ‘No. I keep waiting for something to happen. It is “The Day”, but other than the bloody dog nothing has happened.’

  ‘That’s good. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll feel better.’

  ‘I’ll feel better when Marie turns up.’

  ‘Still no word?’

  ‘No. I know this isn’t out of character for her but… well, she wanted me and Carly to help with the TV thing and we didn’t really listen to her properly. I just hope she has got a tour and isn’t off somewhere feeling let down. Or…’

  ‘I don’t think she’s been taken. It doesn’t make sense that she would be. Not without you and Carly anyway.’

  But that’s what I’m afraid of. That today he’s coming for us too.

  ‘Mummy!’ Archie calls from the kitchen. ‘Mummy the puppy has done a big wee on the floor.’

  I tell Tash I’ll speak to her later and hang up the phone.

  By the time I have cleared up and washed the floor three times it is lunchtime. Archie plays with the puppy in the garden. I watch him out of the window while I make us a sandwich. I hope George will be home soon. My phone rings and I brush the crumbs from my gloves before I answer it.

  ‘How are you holding up today?’ Graham doesn’t bother with pleasantries.

  ‘Pretty much as expected,’ I say.

  ‘Look. I did a bit of digging. Not that I think he’s a threat to you or anything but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I checked the CCTV of the Dog and Duck on the day you think Marie went missing and she was there.’

  ‘There?’

  ‘Outside the pub. She was with a man but he had his back to the camera. There’s only one working on that road so you can’t see if she left with him but she didn’t look scared. Sorry I can’t offer anything else. I’ll keep looking into it, I promise. In the meantime don’t do anything stupid. What you did the last time, paying someone to plant evidence to frame him for a crime he hadn’t committed… I can’t turn a blind eye to anything like that again. Understand?’