by Claire Allan
he hadn’t hurt anyone else.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve been so weak. I didn’t mean to.
I couldn’t help it. I really tried, really, really tried.’
‘Who?’ I asked, my voice firm. I pulled my hand from his.
‘Does it matter now?’ he said. ‘It will all come out when I’m
gone. I’m sure of it.’
‘Who?’ I asked again.
Who else had been told they were Joe McKee’s ‘favourite’?
His ‘special girl’. I remembered how confused it had made me
feel, but how I loved him. And how he had cried when I was
older and asked him about it. How he said he was a bad person
and he should just kill himself. And I’d be so, so scared that he
would that I told him it was okay. I told him I was okay because
that was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?
He whispered two names. Ciara and Heidi, of course.
‘When did it stop?’ I asked him.
‘I don’t remember . . . maybe Heidi was around thirteen.
Something like that.’
I knew immediately that was at least two years after I’d left.
Two years after he’d promised me, swore to me that he wouldn’t
do it again.
He had lied to me. He had betrayed my trust once again.
Something snapped.
‘They’ll tell everyone, after I’m gone, I know it. If not before.
Everyone will know I’m a monster.’
I soothed him, because it felt like the right thing to do. I
told him that I would sort it out, just as I did before. He wasn’t to worry.
What I didn’t tell him was that I had no intention of our
family secrets being spilled. I had no intention of people asking
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me questions. Asking me did I know. Asking me if he did it to me, too. Because I loved him, as flawed as he was. As much of
a monster as he was, he was still my big brother and if I could
do one thing for him I would make sure his reputation was
protected.
It was a mercy killing of sorts, in the end. I had left him, content, and gone downstairs. I had looked at the faces of the
two young women whose lives he had destroyed. I had thought
of the child I had been. Nine years old, or was it eight? I
thought of all the times he told me it was because he loved
me. All those times I believed him. Helped him.
I couldn’t stand to have any of us, wounded and damaged as
we were, dance attendance on him when he had caused us so
much pain. I knew we never had a chance of getting justice
for his crimes, but I could make sure it was over. Really over.
For us all.
I think I was in a haze when I did it. If I hadn’t been, maybe
I’d have seen that stupid diary. Taken it with me, made sure no
one ever read those words. But you see, I really didn’t plan it.
I just popped my head around the door to his room and saw
him sleeping there, like a baby. Without a care in the world.
Sure that he would be protected in this life and the next – that
his reputation would remain unsullied while he had destroyed
three lives.
That’s when I lifted the pillow.
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Acknowledgements
Oh this book was a doozy to write! It challenged me more
than any other I’ve written because I wanted to do the subject
matter justice.
There are a lot of people who helped me along the way.
This book’s first and biggest cheerleader is my agent of almost
14 years, Ger Nichol, who saw something in the fairly ropey
earlier drafts and encouraged me to keep digging and teasing
out this storyline. She gave me faith in the book and in myself
as a writer when I was struggling to find it myself and I am
incredibly grateful.
Also encouraging and cheering, and holding my hand through
the scary bits, was my editor Helen Huthwaite whose faith in
my writing is massively appreciated, as is her keen eye and her
ability to push me to make a book the best it can be.
Along with Phoebe Morgan, who is taking over the reins
while Helen is on maternity leave, I know that I have the best
editorial team in the world behind me.
So love and thanks to all at Avon and Harper Collins Ireland
for all the incredible work they do behind the scenes to get
my books looking great, onto shelves and into people’s hearts.
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Their enthusiasm and dedication is second to none. A special mention to Claire Pickering who has once again made the
copy editing process a relatively painless one.
To my police sources, who offered information on police
procedure in such cases, including my sister-in-law Insp Penny
Jones of the Cheshire Police, and Karen – thank you for your
guidance.
Also thanks to those lovely Twitter people who offered me
advice on autopsies and the release of remains in ongoing
criminal cases.
Any mistakes in the above are mine and mine alone.
To sell books, authors need booksellers and huge thanks to
all those who get behind my titles and support me and this
industry. In particular, love and thanks to Jenni at Little Acorns, Dave at No Alibis, Bob (the giver of the BEST hugs) at the
Gutter Bookshop and the team in Eason, Foyleside. Thanks
also to the supermarket buyers who put my books front and
centre.
Heidi Murphy of WH Smith in Ireland has been a huge
support to me, and happened to mention that you don’t get
many Heidis in books these days. So I’m delighted to have
named a character after her in this book.
To my writer friends who have just been amazing and who
fully understand how this insane business can be, thank you.
You have gone and above and beyond. Thank you in particular
to John Marrs, Louise Beech, Rowan Coleman, Liz Nugent,
Cally Taylor, Sheila O’Flanagan and Brian McGilloway.
Special thanks to Jane Casey and Alex Barclay who took time
out of their hectic lives to read this.
Special thanks to my best writing pal, Fionnuala Kearney
who did most of the tea pouring, and wine pouring, and Diet
Coke providing, and listening and hugging. And thanks to her
husband Aidan for allowing me to steal his wife every now and
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again and to the wider Kearney family who always make me feel welcome when I visit the Claire Allan Suite.
To all the journalists and book bloggers who provide inval-
uable support and who take part in blog tours and offer reviews.
You are amazingly generous with your time and praise and I
am forever grateful. Special love to Mairead at Swirl & Thread and Margaret Bonass Madden at Bleachhouse Library.
To the friends who have held my hand, Julie-Anne, Vicki,
Carey Ann, Erin, Catherine – thank you.
To my readers, Facebook followers, Twitter pals – thank
you
so much. Our chats and interaction help a very isolated profes-
sion a lot more bearable. Thanks in particular to Sam Missingham
for invaluable industry support and advice.
And lastly to my family who are my everything. Mum and
Dad, Peter, Eavan, Lisa, Mark, Emma, Niall, Abby, Ethan, Darcy,
Arya, Thomas and Finn – thank you. To my husband, Neil,
thank you for giving me the time and space to live my dream.
To my children, Joe and Cara – everything is for you both. You
are the greatest loves of my life. And to the two frankly disin-
terested cats, and the one very interested and amazingly cute
puppy, Izzy, thanks for the cuddles.
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You watched her die.
And her death has created a vacancy . . .
A gripping psychological thriller
that will have you hooked.
Available in all good bookshops now.
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Just how far is a mother willing to go?
A gripping psychological thriller from
the USA Today bestseller.
Available in all good bookshops now.
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I disappeared on a Tuesday afternoon.
They’ve never found my body . . .
A unputdownable serial killer thriller with a
breathtaking twist.
Available in all good bookshops now.
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