Blink

by KL Slater

  Her fingernails dig into my lips, trying to prise them open. I knock my head from side to side so she can’t get the mug near me. I’m vaguely aware of a shadow coming from behind her when suddenly her face explodes forward, blood and bits of flesh everywhere.

  My arms are released and I stagger forward, tripping over Tara’s body and falling to the floor. I look up to see Harriet Watson smashing a hammer into Phil’s arm, then his already mangled hand, crushing it completely.

  He throws his head back and screams and Harriet smashes the hammer into his face. He falls to the floor. She hits him again on the skull as he falls and then she turns to me, the hammer raised.

  I cower, holding up my hand uselessly as protection.

  ‘Shall we have a cup of tea now the unpleasantness is out of the way, Toni?’ she asks, calmly. ‘Then I’ll show you where the smell is coming from.’

  75

  Present Day

  Toni

  I sit, dazed, on the couch, staring at the bodies of Tara and Phil. In films, people who look dead suddenly jump up and start throttling people again. But these two don’t look like they’re getting up any time soon.

  Was Tara telling the truth? Is Evie still alive?

  I breathe in and out. Harriet’s right, you get used to the smell.

  I can hear Harriet pottering around in the kitchen. She really is making tea. Everything seems so ordinary, but I can’t move.

  I hear the back kitchen door smash open, hear yelling, shouting. Suddenly, the room is flooded with uniforms and I feel myself being led away, outside into the fresh air.

  I look up into the face of DI Manvers.

  ‘Toni, are you OK? Did she hurt you?’

  ‘You were right,’ I say quietly. ‘She’s harmless. Just mad as a box of frogs.’

  ‘I was wrong.’ He shakes his head. ‘She’s murdered Joanne Deacon. Suffocated her in her hospital bed.’

  I receive the news, understand it. I don’t feel anything.

  ‘Toni, look at me.’

  I do.

  ‘We have her. We have Evie.’

  The world stops turning.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he says softly. ‘She’s not hurt, she knows she’s coming home.’

  I begin to softly sob. ‘Have they hurt her, is she hurt?’

  ‘Evie has been well cared for.’

  ‘It’s true,’ I say faintly, feeling woozy.

  ‘We’re going to take you home now to pack an overnight bag and then you’re going to see your daughter.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I hear myself say. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Wait, please!’ Harriet Watson shouts, breaking away from the police officers trying to restrain her and rushing into the room. ‘I want to show Toni the smell. I want you to see it’s not Evie. I would never hurt Evie.’

  DI Manvers gives his grudging permission for Harriet to lead us upstairs. As we move upwards, the smell grows stronger.

  ‘Jeez, I’m gonna throw up,’ I hear one of the officers say. ‘I know this smell, it’s not going to be pretty.’

  We wait at the bottom of the second flight of stairs while Harriet and DI Manvers climbed to the top.

  ‘I want her to see,’ Harriet says.

  DI Manvers nods and I follow them up.

  Harriet produces a key from her pocket and inserts it into the door. She pushes it open and we stagger back from the stench. Bluebottles buzz frantically at the window, more than I’ve ever seen in my life. The officers at the bottom of the stairs clutch their noses.

  ‘It’s Mother,’ Harriet says softly. ‘You see, she refuses to come downstairs when she’s nursing Darcy.’

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  Much later, on the way to the unit, DI Manvers explains a few things.

  ‘Darcy was Harriet’s sister, born before Harriet. She died from cot death when she was just six months old. The old woman kept the baby swaddled and wrapped in a bottom drawer all those years. Even when they moved, Darcy went with them.’

  I shudder. Harriet’s rotting mother had been sitting in a rocking chair, nursing the skeleton of a baby. It’s a sight I’ll never forget.

  ‘She’d lost her mind, plagued Harriet to get the room prepared so she could nurse her baby. Then she refused to come out. One morning, Harriet found her dead in the chair and . . .’ He shakes his head. ‘Inexplicably, she just left her there.’

  He also tells me that Dale Gregory has been in touch. He’d seen the newspaper reports about Jo Deacon. When she’d resigned and they cleared her filing cabinet, Dale had discovered my ‘lost’ purse buried in there.

  ‘Apparently he’d called at your house with flowers and to tell you about the purse because they’d all blamed you at the time, for being careless. But when you weren’t able to speak to him, he decided not to burden you with the knowledge, with everything else you were dealing with. It didn’t seem that important back then.’

  I don’t know what to say. I remember Mum turning Dale away at the door during the weeks, even months, when I just felt incapable of facing anyone.

  Jo must have taken the purse for the cash in there but also to make me look scatty and disorganised. As if that would count against me when Evie went missing.

  But I swiftly push all thoughts of that from my mind. I can only think about one thing, and that’s the little girl I lost, who is inside the low concrete building in front of us.

  ‘I know all this is hard to take in. And I know Harriet Watson left Evie unattended and allowed her to be abducted, but I just wanted you to know something – she’s the reason Evie is back with us today.’

  I look at him.

  ‘She recognised Tara Bowen at the hospital. Said she’d seen her in a photograph in your lounge and you’d said it was your friend, Tara. But when Harriet asked, a nurse said the woman was your sister so Harriet told her she thought it was an imposter. The hospital panicked and contacted us.’

  I let his words sink in.

  ‘Unfortunately, in the process of doing so, taking their attention off Harriet Watson. We began making inquiries as to Tara Bowen’s whereabouts and suddenly Evie is left outside a doctor’s surgery.’

  The realisation that Tara had been discovered just by chance made me shiver.

  ‘Please thank her for me,’ I say, realising how crazy things have become that I am actually thanking Harriet Watson.

  76

  Present Day

  Toni

  She sits in a cream-painted room on a beanbag. The carpet is azure, like the sea, and her hair is brown. She is big, bigger than before, and her face has changed, though the essence of her shines through. She is assembling some kind of building with Lego bricks.

  The bricks aren’t large and brightly coloured anymore. They are small and technical and the building looks like something you might see in an architect’s office.

  She looks up as we enter the room and our eyes meet.

  I smile and she stares back.

  The psychologist, Sarah, pulls out two chairs and we sit down. I remember my conversation with Sarah, about how important it is not to rush things. Not to approach her or touch her. Everything must come from Evie. She must not feel overwhelmed.

  ‘It’s going to be a very long road for her,’ Sarah said before we came in here. ‘We don’t know how she’ll react or if she’s formed emotional bonds with her abductors.’

  After a few minutes of silence, Sarah nods at me.

  ‘Hello, Evie,’ I say.

  ‘Hello,’ she replies.

  We look at each other.

  ‘What are you making there? It looks complicated.’

  She looks at the building and then back at me. She stands up and walks over to me, but stays a step or two back.

  ‘I used to dream about you, sometimes,’ she says. ‘Your hair has changed. And your eyes. Your eyes are different now.’

  ‘You’ve changed too, you’re even more beautiful,’ I say.

  She turns without replying and walks back to the beanbag.

/>   We sit in silence a while longer, watching Evie click together the bricks. Then she turns to me again and sighs.

  ‘When can we go home?’ she asks.

  Reader Letter

  Thank you so much for reading Blink, my second psychological thriller.

  The story was inspired by several different news stories I’ve seen over the years about missing or abducted children. I became fascinated by how the public and press are almost as interested in how parental error may have contributed to events than in debating the actual issue of by whom the child has been taken.

  I got to thinking about how easy it might be for someone, if they were so inclined, to take advantage of a parent in a bad place. Perhaps a single, grieving parent, someone who is struggling with everyday life.

  At times, we all make decisions that we later regret. But what if those decisions lead to a nightmarish outcome that can’t be reversed? How do you cope with tragedy but also the crippling guilt accompanying it? Blink is the story that grew from there.

  The book is set in Nottinghamshire, the place I was born and have lived in all my life. Local readers should be aware I sometimes take the liberty of changing street names or geographical details to suit the story.

  I know you hear this a lot, but reviews are so massively important to authors. If you’ve enjoyed Blink and could spare just a few minutes to write a short review to say so, I would so appreciate that.

  You can also connect with me via my website, on Facebook or on Twitter.

  I am now writing my third psychological thriller. It’s troubling and tense with a creeping sense of dread . . . I think you’re going to like it!!

  Best wishes,

  Kim x

  @KimLSlater

  KimLSlaterAuthor

  www.KLSlaterAuthor.com

  Acknowledgments

  Firstly, huge thanks to Lydia Vassar-Smith, my editor, for her expertise and guidance during the editing process. Thanks to ALL the Bookouture team for everything they do, especially Kim Nash, who is never too busy to offer advice or assistance.

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  Enormous thanks as always to my agent, Clare Wallace, who continues to be such a valuable support to me, even on her maternity leave!

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  Thanks also to the rest of the hardworking team at Darley Anderson Literary, TV and Film Agency, especially Mary Darby and Emma Winter, who work so hard to get my books out into the big, wide world, and to Naomi Perry, Kristina Egan and Rosanna Bellingham.

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  Massive thanks as always go to my husband, Mac, for his love and support and for taking care of everything so I have the time to write. To my daughter, Francesca, and to Mama, who are always there to support and encourage me in my writing. To my stepsons, Nathan and Jake, and to our daughter-in-law, Helen, who loyally reads everything I write. To Dad, who always asks how things are going.

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  Special thanks must also go to Henry Steadman who has managed to do it yet again, designing a mind-blowing cover for Blink.

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  Thank you to the bloggers and reviewers who did so much to help make my debut thriller, Safe With Me, a success. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to post a positive review online or taken part in my blog tour. It is noticed and much appreciated.

  Also by K.L. Slater

  Safe With Me

  Published by Bookouture - an imprint of StoryFire Ltd.

  23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN, United Kingdom

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  www.bookouture.com

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  Copyright © K L Slater 2017

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  K L Slater has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-78681-128-8