Maggie: a gripping psychological thriller

by Netta Newbound

  He opened the boot and gasped at the sight of Maggie’s unconscious and twisted body. The paramedics were beside him in an instant and pushed him out of the way. He looked around to see Ashley. She was standing to the side of the garage, and she had huge tears rolling down her cheeks.

  She shook her head. “We were too late. We were just too late.”

  Epilogue

  Claudia applied the finishing touches to her make-up. She hated funerals and still didn’t really feel strong enough, but she’d made a promise she would attend, and she never broke a promise.

  She took a final glance at her reflection in the full-length mirror before heading downstairs. It seemed strange to be back in her own home. She still couldn’t remember what had happened the night she fell, but the police were certain Rachel had been behind it.

  She couldn’t believe Maggie’s best friend could’ve been responsible for all those deaths. She’d never trusted her, and Doreen had let it slip about the affair with Kenny. But an affair was one thing, murder was quite another.

  DI Kent called around to inform her about the discovery they’d made on Rachel’s phone. There were apparently hundreds of texts and voicemail messages from Kenny telling her how, when he was free, they would be together properly. He’d been grooming her for years.

  It appeared Rachel had targeted everyone for supporting Maggie and, in her words, allowing her to get away with murder. Rachel had even composed poems about each of the attacks. She hadn’t believed Kenny had raped Maggie. She thought it had all been a collaboration of lies to help Maggie get away with killing him, which is why she turned on everybody.

  Claudia stood in front of the mantelpiece. “Guard the house while I’m gone, little fella.” She kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them on the pewter urn. She wasn’t ready to sprinkle Sandy’s ashes yet, but she intended to, one of these days. She heard someone on the stairs. “I’m in here, duck.”

  The lounge door flew open, and Maggie clomped in, bashing her plastered leg with each step. In front of the mirror, she began pinning her hair up. “I don’t think I can do this, Claudia.”

  “What? Your hair? Give it here.”

  Maggie batted the older woman’s hand away. “No, not my hair. The funeral. I can’t face it.”

  “We don’t have to speak to anyone. We can just sneak into the chapel and sit at the back.”

  “Mr and Mrs Mendoza hated me before all this, and they probably still blame me for everything. No, I’m serious. I really can’t face it.”

  “Then, if you’re sure, we’ll do something else instead. Any ideas?”

  Maggie shrugged. “Could we go up to Werneth Low? My mum loved it up there.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Your mum was my best friend. I loved her like a daughter, you know.”

  Maggie nodded. “She loved you too.”

  “Have you booked your train ticket for London?”

  “Not yet. I’ll do it later. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll be more than okay, duck. And I’ll have your school holidays to look forward to. I have a feeling things are going to turn out just fine.”

  The End

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  Acknowledgments

  As always, I need to mention Paul, my long suffering husband. Your support means the world to me.

  To my wonderful critique partners Susan, Marco, Jay, Sandra & Serena—you’re the best.

  To Mel, Ross, and all my friends and fellow authors—thanks so much for letting me bend your ear.

  The wonderful ARC group – you're awesome.

  To Morgen Bailey, editor. Thanks so much for making this such a pain-free experience.

  To Betsy, Fred and the Bloodhound gang - you rock.

  And finally. To my wonderful family, especially Joshua, David, AJ, and Marley my lovely grandsons who give me immense joy. I am truely blessed.