The Babysitter

Gemma Rogers

Description

It’s every mother’s worst nightmare…
Perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty, Shari Lapena and Lisa Jewell

I’ve done a terrible thing. I’ve told too many lies.
It’s gone too far and now my best friend’s one year old daughter, Eden, is missing.
I know what happened but I can’t tell anyone my secret, I can’t tell the police or Eden’s parents.
But I know who has her and I’ll risk everything to get her back…

Praise for Gemma Rogers:

'Unputdownable. a nail-biting thriller that grips to the very last page.' Keri Beevis
‘A beautifully written edge-of-your-seat thriller that had me guessing right until the end’Dreda Say Mitchell
'A brilliant thriller from an exciting new voice. Stalker it had me on the edge of my seat' Kerry Barnes
'An atmospheric, taut thriller which keeps you hooked from the first page' Jacqui Rose
'A cracking read. Brilliantly written characters and a gripping plot. Highly recommended.' Caz Finlay
'A page-turning must-read. It will have you hooked from the first page until the last' Stephanie Harte
'An intense thriller - it's a must-read' Sam Michaels
‘An incredible read that had me engrossed from the first page. A five-star read’ Alex Kane
‘A real page turner, full of sinister secrets' Casey Kelleher


What everyone's saying aboutThe Babysitter:'A book I simply had to stay up to finish' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'Full of suspense... A thrilling read' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'A tense, dramatic and gritty story which kept me guessing and which kept me on the edge of my seat' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'Another winner from Gemma Rogers... A brilliant 5 star read' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Policier
• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Relations familiales
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Conflict Resolution
• Thrillers
• Suspenso
• Friendship
• Psychological thriller
• Domestic
• Babysitting
• General officer
• Parenting
• Psychology
• Organized crime
• General
• Crime
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 14 septembre 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800486768
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE BABYSITTER



GEMMA ROGERS
For Dad, who never got to see me published.
CONTENTS



Author’s Note

Day One


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

1pm – 4pm

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

4pm – 7pm

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Day Two

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

11am – 2pm

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

2pm – 5pm

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

5pm – 9pm

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Day Three

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

11am – 2pm

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

2pm – 3pm

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Five Days Later

Chapter 59

One Month Later

Chapter 60

Three Months Later

Chapter 61


Acknowledgments

More from Gemma Rogers

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
AUTHOR’S NOTE

This story takes place over three days in October 2020 and is told from the perspective of three of the main characters:
Brooke Simmons is twenty-six years old and desperate to move out of her overbearing mum’s home in Redhill. She works part-time and looks after her friend Ali’s daughter, Eden, twice a week. Brooke met Ali when they used to work together at an online magazine. Jimmy is her ex.
Ali Tolfrey is thirty-three years old and a freelance writer. Married to GP Christopher for almost two years, they have a daughter, Eden, who has just turned one. They reside in a town house in affluent Reigate. Brooke is one of Ali’s closest friends.
Jimmy Pearson is twenty-eight years old and lives on his own in a flat in Redhill. Currently taking a sabbatical from his work in maintenance at Gatwick Airport, he’s a self-proclaimed ladies’ man. His father recently passed away and his younger brother moved to Australia four years ago. He is Brooke’s ex-partner.
DAY ONE
THURSDAY 29TH OCTOBER 2020



11AM – 1PM
1
BROOKE SIMMONS

My head screamed in pain as I forced heavy eyelids apart and tried to focus on the gloomy sky above.
Where am I?
Terracotta leaves squelched beneath me as I struggled to sit up, one hand reflexively reaching up to the back of my head, trying to staunch the pounding in my skull. A small amount of sticky liquid from my hair transferred to my trembling fingertips.
What’s that?
Bringing my hand back, I recognised blood smeared on my skin.
I’m bleeding?
The throbbing was so intense it muddled my thoughts as I struggled to get my bearings.
Panicked eyes darted everywhere, searching for her.
Where’s Eden?
A sensation of dread swelled in my stomach, culminating in an immense scream, its release stuck in my throat.
Where is she?
I let out a strangled moan as my nails dug into the mud beneath me, trying to cling onto something real as my world turned on its axis.
No, no, no!
She was gone.
There was no buggy, no change bag, no sign of her at all.
I blinked rapidly, vision swimming.
This isn’t happening.
A spark of something, buried deep in my subconscious niggled at me, but I was too confused to make sense of it.
‘Are you hurt?’ A woman crouched beside me, knees on the sodden grass, staring at the blood on my hands.
I shivered; teeth chattering. Damp jeans clung to my skin. Thoughts came in short bursts as I tried to remember what happened, how I came to wake up on the grass.
What did I know? It was Thursday. I was at the park. A trip to the swings. Who were we meeting?
Oh God, where is she?
Terror wrapped itself around me as I scanned the park for her.
Where’s Eden?
Airways shrinking, I began to hyperventilate as it became real. Eden was nowhere to be seen. She’d disappeared. Palpations ricocheted in my chest and I could hear my pulse in my ears. Thud, thud, thud, faster and faster. Someone had taken her from me, stolen her.
The woman crouched down next to me was talking but I couldn’t hear what she was saying, the only sound was a ringing in my ears as spots danced in front of my eyes.
‘Where’s Eden?’ I croaked, throat like sandpaper.
‘Who’s Eden?’ the woman asked as I clambered to my feet, wobbling on shaky legs.
I lurched forward and she grabbed me, holding me upright, her handbag falling from her shoulder to the crook of her arm. Her mouth hung open, aghast.
‘Eden. The baby. Where’s the baby?’ I screamed, head spinning.
‘I’m going to ring the police,’ she said, alarm evident in her voice as I shrugged out of her grip, stumbling onto the path, and howling like a woman possessed. Someone had Eden, snatched her from me. She was only a baby, a defenceless baby.
Overwhelming nausea hit me with each movement as I turned left and right, scanning the park, shouting her name.
A couple in the distance walking their dog looked over, the noise drawing their attention.
I could see a family in the play area, their children on the swings but too far away to make out.
Fuck, where’s Eden?
I doubled over, fearing I may be sick, sucking in air as I vaguely registered the woman on the phone to the operator, requesting the police and an ambulance.
The police? Did I want the police? Something told me it was a bad idea.
My head began to clear, the niggling thought from earlier returning. All the while, I listened to the lady tell the operator we were at Bushy Park, Reigate. I dropped to my knees, eyes level with a full bag of shopping from Sainsbury’s which been discarded at her feet.
Did I have a bag? Only the change bag and it was gone.
Checking the pockets of my jacket, my fingers wrapped around a phone. I pulled it out and unlocked the screen with clumsy fingers, hovering above Ali’s mobile number but unable to find the words. What could I tell her? That I might be responsible for her daughter being abducted?
‘They’re on their way, come and sit down, love. Tell me what happened?’ the woman encouraged; her voice as soft as silk.
‘I’ve been attacked,’ I stammered as she helped me up and led me to the wooden bench, and I sank onto it.
She took off her red woollen coat and draped it around my shaking frame. I wanted to protest, drizzle hung in the air, and she was older, around fifty, but she wrapped her arm around me and held it firm. All the time, white-hot pokers were being inserted into the back of my head and I reached up again tentatively to check they weren’t really there.
‘Did you have a baby with you?’ she asked.
‘Yes. She’s gone,’ I whined, unable to stop myself shivering.
‘Good Lord, your daughter?’ The woman’s voice was shrill, the sound tormented my ears.
‘Eden. No, no, she’s not my daughter. I’m the babysitter.’
I put my head in my hands and sobbed. The woman’s hand caressed my back, soothing strokes as sirens wailed in the distance.
2
JIMMY PEARSON

‘There you go, it’s okay, here’s your dummy,’ I said, keeping my gravelly voice steady as I hurriedly tried to clip the grisly child into the car seat. Fingers fumbling with straps I wasn’t used to. ‘We’re just going on a little drive.’
Eden wriggled in protest, trying to break free, flexing her body to prevent being constrained.
‘Come on,’ I said through gritted teeth, more to myself than to her, the vein in my forehead pulsating. We had to get on the road and fast.
Eventually I wrestled her in, the fasteners snapping shut, catching the skin of my finger.
‘Fuck!’ I growled.
In defiance, she spat her dummy out and screamed, the noise jarring instantly. My eye twitched, blood pressure soaring. Clenching my jaw, I picked the dummy up from her lap and put it back in her mouth before adjusting the seat belt to make sure she was secure. The toy bar I clipped to each side of the seat grabbed her attention immediately and the dummy remained in place.
Closing the door, I collapsed the buggy as quickly as I could, initially struggling to find the clips. I contemplated leaving it behind, but then it gave and flopped to the ground. I threw it in the boot and hurried around to the driver’s side, keeping my head low as I ducked into the seat. I took a second to straighten the navy Three Lions baseball cap I’d retrieved from the holdall in the rear footwell, pulling it as far down as I could whilst still being able to see.
The engine started straight away, windscreen wipers springing to life, but I was too heavy on the accelerator, tyres flicking mud into the air from the grass verge as the wheels spun. My heart thrashed like it was going to burst out of my chest, and I looked through the rain-speckled windows to see if anyone was around to witness my revving.
Luckily there was only one lady and her dog, around fifty metres away, and she seemed absorbed in her mobile phone. The sky was grey, and it continued to drizzle. We’d been hit with a week’s worth of rain in the past few days, but this morning it had been dry, up until half an hour ago anyway. That’s why I’d suggested a trip to the park, some fresh air, knowing Brooke would agree. She thought she’d be getting paid, so it was an added incentive to come. I had the money with me, more than the five hundred pounds she’d asked for this time, but I had no intention of paying her ever again.
I’d left the car right by an underpass, using a cut-through of woodland to get into Bushy Park to meet Brooke. I’d checked and there were no cameras nearby, the closest house was fifty metres away. It wasn’t the obvious route into the park and hadn’t been forgiving when attempting to wheel the buggy back the way I’d come, hastily dragging it through pine cones, rotting conkers and twigs. I’d had to carry it most of the way, sweating from the effort of t