Someone's There

Diane Saxon

Description

Who's watching who?

When a beautiful, red haired nurse’s body is found mutilated in her house in Lawley the morning after a date with Detective Constable Ryan Downey, all eyes turn to him.

With a very specific modus operandi, Detective Sergeant Jenna Morgan and her team know exactly who the offender is, the trouble is he’s currently serving a life stretch in HMP Long Lartin.

It soon becomes evident to DS Morgan and her team that there may be a copycat killer is on the loose, one who may be taking his pleasure in stalking his victims first.

In a race against time, they need to track down the copycat and discover who is pulling whose strings?

A gripping psychological crime novel. Perfect for fans of Cara Hunter.
This book was previously published as Copycat.

Praise for Diane Saxon:

'Compulsive, addictive and gripping - a truly five star read!' Geraldine Hogan'

'The characters are well rounded and the story had an excellent pace, I started reading this and became very reluctant to put it down, which is always the mark of a good read.' Caroline Marston UK Crime Book Club

'A dark, unsettling read that will keep you on the edge of your seat. I couldn’t stop turning the pages.' Sarah Ward

'A nail-biting psychological thriller you won’t forget in a hurry' Cherry Adair

What readers are saying:

’It was a real thrilling read from start to finish’

’Give it a read if you enjoy dark, intense, disturbing thrillers!’

’I was hooked within the first few pages and just wanted to read more. I love a book that does this, especially as you become apart of the story and you become hooked!’

’It certainly kept me turning the pages!’

’Really enjoyable read. Well written, genuine page turner for me!!’

’ I was blown away by how blooming brilliant this book was and I am sure that other readers will be too.’

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Policier
• Women Sleuths
• Private Investigators
• Amateur Sleuth
• Traditional
• Medical
• Thrillers
• General officer
• Medicine
• General
• Crime
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 18 février 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838892630
• Langue: English

Extrait

Some One's There


Diane Saxon
To my dad, William John Saxon, who would have been 100 on 26 th February 2020, the month Someone's There is released. A master storyteller himself, it was only in the years after his death we discovered his tales were mainly true recollections of his time in World War II and later as he continued his career in the RAF. Thank you for never putting the brakes on my imagination.
Contents



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53


Acknowledgments

More from Diane Saxon

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1
Monday 3 February, 21:15 hrs

Dark laughter bubbled up from the depths of his blackened soul and reverberated around the four walls of the single-accommodation concrete cell in HM Long Lartin prison.
He blinked in the dimness of the grey light that was never quite dark enough as he slipped the burner phone from his pocket. Odds were it would be confiscated within a couple of days, as soon as the prison guards did their next sweep, but it wasn’t difficult to hide a SIM card. Searches weren’t always as thorough as they should be, especially if the guard was a lazy arse. They got that way when you nurtured them, lulled them into a false sense of security by behaving well enough until they trusted you.
He depressed the side button for a moment before he let the basic retro ‘dumbphone’ kick-start. With a battery life of almost a month, the phone was easily disposable and cheap to replace, provided he could persuade one of the new boys to pick it up from where his mate lobbed it over the wall. It was never an issue, provided he also persuaded him to put a few tabs in with it as a reward for the collector.
A quiver buzzed through his warmed blood and he stifled the excitement before it turned to a raging torrent of uncontrollable exhilaration.
He clamped his jaw closed, air hissing through his clenched teeth as he shaded the overly bright screen with his meaty fist and squinted at the single text. It didn’t matter if the number was blocked. He had no intention of replying. He didn’t need evidence of a link between them, but the connection would be more than obvious.
His lips kicked up at the sides. Another evil chuckle escaped him as he scanned the single word.
Soon.
2
Monday 3 February, 23:15 hrs

The orange glow of street lamps flickered through the windows of the Uber car as Marcia Davies reclined in the rear seat, her head a gentle fuzz of alcoholic anaesthesia. Not sufficient to excise the pain of her broken heart, just enough to dull it for a short while.
She swiped her finger right over her phone to reject yet another hopeful candidate on Y’ello, the dating app she’d recently downloaded and soon regretted for its useless addictiveness.
She raised her head to stare out of the window at the insipid rain she knew still wept the icy winter’s chill that seeped bone-deep. She went to swipe again and clenched her jaw at the sight of the vague tremble in her fingers. Dammit, it wasn’t like her to be a coward.
She was strong.
She’d withstood so much. Rejection, humiliation. She could continue to withstand the intimidation, the menace.
Her chest expanded as she drew in a long breath and then blew it out again. She could do this. She had to do it.
She didn’t have a choice.
As the Uber drew up outside her compact two bedroom terrace house in Lawley, a ripple of fear threaded through her. Fear of what she’d find this time.
When she and Ray had bought one of the brand new homes in the Telford expansion phase two years previously, she’d lavished her love on the place and him. On the outer edges of Telford, it was a short hop to spill over into Ironbridge and beyond to Much Wenlock. An idyllic village lifestyle located so it was just as easy to reach the M54 as it was the farmers’ fields.
Instead of sharing space with Ray’s mother and stepfather, as they had for several years until they’d saved the deposit for their house, she’d taken pride in furnishing her own space. Delighted that for the first time in her life she had something that would reflect her taste, her style.
Unfortunately, Ray had not been of the same mind. He hadn’t even had the decency to leave her for a younger woman. Not that he could have found anyone much younger than Marcia when he’d met her. She’d been seventeen. Eighteen and still at university when they moved in with his mother and stepfather together. Once qualified, she’d thought the world was at her feet and within the span of a few short years, the prospect of promotion had been a viable one. They’d lived the golden life.
The peace and tranquillity of a suburban lifestyle with the security of neighbours she’d barely had the chance to get to know as everyone worked. Her shifts at The Princess Royal, Telford’s main hospital, rarely afforded her the opportunity to make friends outside her own circle of work colleagues. She’d been happy enough with that arrangement. Until recently. Until she’d been ostracised by half of her work colleagues and the other half treated her as though she was about to break apart. She was.
She stared at the ‘For Sale’ sign in the neat patch of a front garden as it dripped with rain and misery.
The security she believed she had disappeared in a wisp of mist as she glanced at the house that no longer felt like her home. Not since Ray had left.
The fast clench in her stomach had her gripping the phone to her chest.
He may have left, but she’d been unable to stop him from returning.
‘You all right, bab?’ Powerful Birmingham laced the driver’s words. The gentle term of endearment pulled her back to the present while she stared blankly at the taxi driver, her gaze meeting the watery blue of his in the rear view mirror. She remembered where she was. Embarrassment surged through her to nudge away the blur of alcohol. She fumbled as she dipped her hand hastily into her purse for the fare while he turned in his seat to face her.
‘You’re all right, bab. He already paid for you.’ At her vacant stare, the driver nodded. ‘Your young man, back there. He paid.’
Not her young man. Never likely to be. She zipped her purse closed, snapped her phone off and slipped it into her pocket, her gaze pulled back to the dark foreboding of the empty house.
A sliver of dread prickled her skin at the prospect of getting out of the safety of the car. Ray had done that to her. Made her scared of her own shadow, with his sly insistence that she’d lost her mind. The irony of it was, she had succumbed to the insanity of his mind games. His clever little tricks to make her frightened in her own home.
Marcia squeezed her eyes closed and gulped down the scalding acid threatening to bubble up the back of her throat into her mouth. She touched trembling fingertips to her lips and breathed in through her nose as the heat of the Uber pressed in on her, thick and claustrophobic. She dragged in another breath, almost choking on the sweet, cloying scent of the cherry shaped air freshener which dangled from the driver’s rear view mirror and gave an erratic sway as the driver hefted his large frame out of the car and moved around to yank her door open.
The fast rush of cold draught had her eyes popping open as she heaved in a quick gasp of refreshing air while the biting wind ripped at the thin layers of clothes only suitable for a date in a warm, cosy restaurant, not a late night walk, even if it was only to her front door.
Icy fingers of panic stole along her spine as Marcia shot her gaze up to the darkened bedroom windows in the fear of what Ray may have done while she’d been out. Had he sneaked in to break another cup, move a precious lamp, take away a kitchen appliance? He’d already had the television, leaving her with nothing but her laptop to watch programmes on.
A shiver took a hold of her and she clenched her teeth, her jaw popping in her ears.
‘C’mon, now love, you’ve had too much to drink. I wish you girls would take better care of yourselves.’ An edge of iron had crept into the driver’s voice as he held open the door, his face set in disapproval.
‘Sorry. I’m so sorry.’
Embarrassed, Marcia stumbled from the taxi, muttering a ‘thank you’ as she tripped along the neatly edged pathway, desperate to escape her humiliation.
Not so desperate she didn’t hang onto the door frame, reluctant to enter the house as her world spun. She should never have drunk so much. She stabbed her key into the lock, only succeeding in inserting it on the third try, aware of the presence of the Uber driver as he waited at the end of her pathway, his engine running. It should have made her feel safe, but the danger wasn’t so much outside where the street lamps cast puddles of light onto the wet pavements. Her fear came from the silent stillness of her own house.
With her back to the lawn, she refused to turn around and look at the single word Ray had burned into it with weedkiller. She didn’t have to look; it was etched on her mind.
Bitch .
As though she’d been the one who’d cheated, and he wanted all the neighbours to know. Well, they thought they knew, and oh, how they judged.
She lowered her forehead to rest it against the chilly glass in the front door as the insistent drizzle seeped through her thin coat