The Next Girl: A gripping thriller with a heart-stopping twist

by Carla Kovach

  ‘Look at me,’ he yelled, as he pulled out a knife, grabbed her hair and forced her to face him. ‘Look at me or I’ll slice through your neck.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered.

  ‘You’re sorry. Right. I’ll tell you where I am with sorry. Sorry means nothing if you don’t really mean it. I can see in your eyes that you don’t mean anything you say. Where we go from here is anyone’s guess. Slicing through your scrawny neck is sounding like a good option.’ He stared into her eyes before placing the knife back in his pocket.

  ‘Can I go home? Please let me go,’ she begged as she leaned her head against his chest. She’d pleaded so many times. Why she thought that this time it might work, she had no idea. Hope was all she had in her mind. Hope that he’d see her pain. But the only pain he could see was his own.

  He began to breathe deeply and quickly. Spittle emerged in bubbles through his partially closed lips. He flung the compress to the floor and stood. He paced up and down, as he often did. She looked into her lap and watched as her tears dripped from the end of her nose onto her cotton nightdress.

  A sharp pain flashed through her head. She pulled the blanket over her knees. Sweat dripped down her forehead and she laughed out loud as she thought of the blow she’d delivered to his head. She’d only managed to strike him once with the kettle, but it had felt so good.

  He stopped pacing and his face reddened as he began to seethe. Debbie continued to laugh. She’d laugh through the pain, through the fever, through the racing thoughts. In her mind, she relived the smashing sound over and over again.

  A memory darted through her mind, one where she was reading a story about a magic frog to Max and Heidi. She laughed as tears rolled down her face. She was never going to see her children again, so why punish herself with any more misery. Whatever he did to her, she’d laugh. Maybe she’d antagonise him so much that he’d kill her. What difference would it make? She was already dead. If this existence was her life, then death would be a welcome change.

  Luke had moved on. Her children were no doubt getting on with their lives. Did they call Luke’s new woman Mum? As for Isobel, there was nothing she could do to protect her anymore. Her groin and stomach throbbed. She’d known she was getting worse when the burning pain had started to spread outwards from the wound. Every time she peed, it burned like hell. Her whole stomach was on fire. All night she’d been shivering but hot. Without antibiotics, her days were numbered. Living in filth after a traumatic birth wasn’t conducive to a healthy body.

  ‘This is your home,’ he yelled. He grabbed her hair and dragged her to the ground. ‘I give you a home, security, keep you safe and you laugh in my face. I give you a baby, one of life’s most precious gifts, and you laugh. I give you my everything, my whole self, and I see it in your eyes. All you think about is him.’ Debbie stumbled to the floor as he slapped the side of her head with the back of his hand. He kneeled beside her. She felt his hot breath on her cheek but she continued to laugh. ‘Stop laughing. Stop fucking laughing!’ he yelled as he brought his hand to her cheek over and over again.

  ‘It’s so funny though.’

  ‘What is?’

  Through bloodied teeth, she spat her words out. ‘You. I’m dying, and you are not in control of my death. Unless you kill me, that is. You can still be in control, you can take my life.’ Debbie leaned up, grabbed his hand and forced him to slap her once again. In her mind, she was hysterical, the laughter never ended. She was ready to go. The pain was just pain, it was how she knew she was alive. When she ceased to be, the pain would stop. She would no longer be his prisoner.

  He withdrew his hand and took a step back. She spotted something in his gaze that she’d never seen before. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared. He didn’t know whether to hit her or leave. A mighty shiver travelled through her body. Sweat continued to seep out of her pores and the cold caused her teeth to chatter. He stepped forward and offered his hand to help her off the floor.

  ‘You’re sick. Mother said I was a kind boy. Mother would tell me to forgive you, you’re not to blame for the feverish gibberish you spew. I shouldn’t have slapped you in a temper. Be a kind boy,’ he stuttered as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the bed. ‘I will fetch you some food. Soup, chicken soup. That will make you better and you’ll forgive me.’

  He walked towards the door. She tried to look up but the light caused a shot of pain to travel from her cranium to her neck. She rubbed the side of her head until the sensation passed. Light turned to darkness as the door closed. She lay flat on her back, listening as the chain that bound her settled with her stillness. She listened as he went down the stairs and out of the main door. Moments later she heard the dog barking. He was back in the main house now. Chicken soup. That was a result. Her body was screaming for some sustenance. It was rare that he brought her anything except honey on toast, but occasionally she did get something better. Her heart rate slowed down and she almost felt warm. She closed her eyes and let her exhausted mind and body rest. It was no use fighting it.

  * * *

  Debbie walked through the darkness of the street until she reached her house. Where was her shoe? No wonder her feet were bleeding; she’d just stepped in a broken bottle on the pavement. The wound didn’t hurt one bit. Even the fact that the glass was still lodged in her foot wasn’t bothering her. Maybe she’d become so cold that it had numbed the pain.

  Why was she only wearing one shoe? A perfect little snowflake settled on her nose. She almost went cross-eyed trying to get a better view of it. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body as she stared through the bay window. ‘Right, time to go home and see the kids.’ She needed to be sitting in front of the fireplace with a hot chocolate, watching Christmas films with Luke and their babies.

  She tried to take a step forward but the glass that was stuck between her toes was burrowing deeper into her flesh. She leaned against the gate and lifted her foot up. She yanked at the green shard but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Luke,’ she called, but he couldn’t hear her from inside the house. She pulled again and the glass dislodged. As she yanked it out, a gush of blood oozed from the gaping wound and flooded the ground. ‘Luke!’ As if sensing her presence, he came to the window. She tried to hobble forward, but blood kept flooding out. Her leg was getting heavier and her mind felt woozy. Luke looked out into the night, beyond her and into the darkness. Tears began to fall. What was happening? Why couldn’t he see or hear her? A featureless woman holding a baby came to join him at the window. He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her.

  Heidi and Max ran over to them and they all hugged before closing the curtains. ‘Luke!’ she yelled, as tears flooded her face. She began choking as mucus ran down the back of her nose and into her throat as she sobbed. She couldn’t breathe; she was choking on her own mucus. She tried to cough harder to move the obstruction. She tried to swallow to dislodge it.

  * * *

  ‘Luke, Luke, Luke. Why do you shout for him? It is not him who feeds you and cares for you.’ He forced a spoonful of chicken soup down her throat. She prised an eye open and observed the frustration on his face. She gagged and spluttered as the warm liquid slid down the back of her throat, coughing the soup onto his chest. ‘Eat it, you bitch,’ he yelled. She swallowed. It was warm but flavourless.

  Whether her fever was upsetting her taste buds or he had just given her some other warm liquid, she had no idea, but she needed it. Her body needed the calories. Or did it? Death wouldn’t be so bad. She wanted this all to end, but her body and mind were still fighting. Why couldn’t they just give up?

  Tears rolled down her face as he placed the spoon in her mouth once again. ‘Good, nearly finished, then you can have a sleep.’

  Sleep, she wanted to sleep. Maybe she’d wake up, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe, all maybe, maybe nothing… It was getting harder to think. Maybe what? She lost her train of thought. What was she thinking? Something about a cut foot.


  An overwhelming sense of loss flushed through her body and mind. She slumped back into the blankets and closed her eyes, and within minutes she was standing in the dark, staring in through the bay window. The curtains were closed but she could hear a baby crying. ‘I’m still here,’ she whispered as she sobbed outside their gate. ‘Don’t forget me.’

  Forty-Two

  Gina’s stomach had finally stopped rumbling. She wasn’t sure if Herman cake was her thing, but at least it filled the gap. She approached the door to Luke Jenkins’ house and took a deep breath, brushing her fingers through her tangled hair. There was no avoiding another chat with Luke. He needed to be more vigilant, on alert and suspicious of everything and everyone, no matter how insignificant. In her heart, she didn’t believe they were safe.

  ‘Inspector Harte,’ Luke said as he approached her from behind. He smiled and loosened his tie.

  Gina stumbled back. ‘Apologies. I was just about to… Look, I know yesterday was strained—’

  ‘Sorry I made you jump. It should be me who apologises. It’s not been good around here lately and I know that none of this is your fault. Admittedly, I’ve been cursing you all for not pursuing Deborah’s disappearance more over the years, but I want to help things, not hinder them.’ Luke paused and rubbed his temples. ‘I had to talk with my children last night about all that’s been happening. Heidi is devastated and Max, he doesn’t understand. Either that or he’s pretending and doesn’t want to talk. But our family is made of tough stuff and we’ll pull through it. Debbie is made of tough stuff. Wherever she is, I know she’ll be fighting to get back with us. We have to be strong for her, and my job is to keep this family together.’ Luke looked away, towards the wall. ‘Whoever is watching us, he’ll be back and I’ll be waiting.’

  Gina looked up at Luke. ‘Whatever you do, call me immediately. Don’t approach this person if you don’t have to. I will come straight away.’

  ‘I’ll do everything I need to do to protect my children.’

  As the front door opened, the baby’s shrill screams escaped outside. ‘Hello, Inspector,’ Cathy said.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Luke replied as he stepped into the house.

  Cathy took his coat and hung it up. ‘Not to worry, you know I never mind. The children have both eaten and are watching TV. Isobel is due for a feed, as you can tell.’ Cathy grimaced as another wail pierced the hallway.

  Gina followed the pair into the kitchen. Devina was sitting out of the way, in the corner. Cathy tested the bottle that was on the side and placed the teat into Isobel’s mouth. The little girl sucked contentedly as Cathy stroked her brow.

  ‘To what do we owe this visit, Inspector?’ Cathy asked.

  Gina undid the buttons on her coat. The house was exceptionally warm. She felt her cheeks begin to redden as she fanned her face with her hand.

  ‘I know it’s hot in here,’ Cathy explained. ‘I’ve kept it warm for Isobel.’

  ‘Excuse me. I just have some calls to make. I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ Devina said as she stood and left the room, holding her phone.

  Gina smiled as the social worker passed. ‘I just wanted to personally pop by to see how things were going and to tell you that I have organised regular drive-bys. Every couple of hours a PC will drive by and check on your house. After the other night and with all that’s been happening…’ Gina paused.

  ‘Do you know something you’re not telling us?’ Luke asked.

  Gina looked up at him. ‘Since the attempted break-in and your report of being watched by a stranger, we feel it would only be right to keep a closer eye on what’s happening around here. We still don’t know whether this person has anything to do with Deborah’s disappearance, but we’re working hard to try and get to the bottom of what’s happening. We want to ensure that you are safe and that you feel safe. As you said yesterday, you have children in the house and we want to offer you some protection.’

  ‘Thank you for being honest,’ Luke said as he sat at the kitchen table. He grabbed the pack of nappies blocking his view and placed them on the floor. ‘Are you any closer to finding Debbie?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Gina shook her head. ‘There are several lines of investigation that we are following, but there’s nothing new to report at the moment. We have officers out, looking at every strand of information that we receive. As you know, I can’t promise you anything, but as soon as I find anything out, I will be the first to call you.’ Gina knew it wasn’t the answer Luke wanted. He wanted to know that the police were closing in on her whereabouts, that they’d narrowed down a list of suspects, that they were on a dead-cert trail that led to Deborah’s return, but Gina had nothing concrete to offer them. Cathy eased the teat from the sleeping baby’s mouth and held her towards Luke.

  Luke stood and took the baby. ‘This little one needs her mummy, and I’m sure her mummy needs her too. I know I sound ungrateful sometimes, but thank you. Thank you for the patrols and thank you for not giving up. If I see or hear anything, I will call you immediately.’ He held the baby and paced the floor as the little one gently snored.

  ‘I’ll leave you both alone now.’ Cathy followed Gina out and opened the front door.

  ‘Please bring my daughter back home,’ Cathy said as she held the door open. Gina looked sympathetically at the woman, not knowing what to say. She wanted to reassure Cathy that her daughter would be returned to her, that her children would have their mother back and that Luke would have his wife home, but she couldn’t. She stood there ready to speak, but then closed her mouth and nodded before saying goodbye.

  Dampness filled the evening air as she crossed the road and headed over to the wall. She stopped outside Alice Lenton’s house and leaned against the lamppost, then she stared over at the Jenkinses’ house. The suspect had been standing on this spot before the break-in, observing, planning his next move. Gina looked up at Alice’s bedroom and then at her lounge window. The curtains were closed. She ran her fingers through her frizzing hair and a few drops of rain began to fall.

  She sat on the wall and took her phone out of her pocket. Still no message from Hannah. She rubbed her forehead as she imagined being in Cathy’s position. How would she handle things if Gracie had been the baby found on the library step? How would she sleep at night if her daughter had been missing for years? If a baby sharing her DNA had been abandoned? Would she obsess about the man who made the phone call that led them to check the baby’s DNA?

  She reached into her pocket and found a stray lozenge. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth as she contemplated all that was happening. She missed her daughter. She needed to hug her and hold Gracie and tell them she loved them. She flinched as a sudden clap of thunder filled the air. She sat on the wall as the rain fell.

  Back then, on the night of Terry’s death, as thunder clashed, she had stared at Terry’s lifeless body at the bottom of the stairs as Hannah screamed from her cot. They’d tussled at the top of the stairs before he’d slammed her against the wall.

  She wiped the tears and rain from her face. Deborah was going through much worse. Was she imprisoned by fear or shackles? Gina had known the power of fear.

  She had to crack the case and bring Deborah home. Avery? Nelson? Who was the hooded man at the school? She’d looked into Avery’s life thoroughly over the past few days. He had no connections to farms, no pets and she’d never seen him in a hooded jacket. He’d lived above the pub four years ago, and he still lived there now. It was his only residence. His parents still lived in North London, hardly rural, and he had a sister who had two children. She hit the wall with the flat of her hand. What was she missing? She would go over the notes from the Angel Arms once again and then look at Deborah’s workplace.

  A little further down the street, Devina stepped out of her car. She must have finished with her calls.

  ‘How are the family doing?’ Gina called as she walked over.

  ‘Unbelievably well. It’s so awful, what they’re going through. Any new
s on Deborah Jenkins?’

  Gina shook her head. ‘No news.’

  Devina looked sympathetic, and waved as she hurried back towards the Jenkinses’ house.

  Gina looked at her phone, at Hannah’s name in her contacts list. She pressed the call button. The phone rang twice and was cut off. She tried again and once again the call was cut off.

  As she walked back towards her car, she typed out a message on her phone and held her index finger over the send button. She needed some company. She needed Briggs. They could talk about the case, eat together and who knows. A message pinged back.

  Come to mine. We can order some food while we work.

  She replied.

  See you in a couple of hours.

  Forty-Three

  She watched as Briggs slept beside her. His bedroom wasn’t as comfortable as hers and she still couldn’t believe she’d ended up staying. It didn’t feel right. There was a bed and furniture, but there were no pictures, no cushions and only one flat pillow each. After they’d caught up on the case, they’d enjoyed a takeaway in front of the television. When they’d made love, her mind had been elsewhere. She was sure he could tell.

  Briggs wasn’t Terry, she had to keep reminding herself of that. She could leave his house at any time. She gasped and took a deep breath, trying to force her tears away. Deborah’s case was affecting every aspect of her life. She couldn’t get the images of baby Isobel out of her mind, and the scenarios that her mind constantly churned up weren’t pleasant.

  She took the crime book Briggs had been reading from his chest and pulled the quilt over his arm. She removed his reading glasses, leaned over and placed them on his bedside table. He stirred and half opened an eye. ‘Are you sleeping over?’ he asked.

  Gina hit the shutdown button on her laptop and closed the lid. ‘Do you mind? I’m too tired to drive home.’ He shook his head as he rolled over and nestled into his pillow. She turned off the light. The case would still be waiting for her when she awoke. With heavy eyes, and a heavier heart, she allowed sleep to take over.