Girl A Dan Scottow (reading women .TXT) 📖

For the first time in years, she let go. She screamed. Cried until her throat was hoarse.

For Zoe, who despite what Charlie said, was definitely dead. Beth knew what she had seen.

She mourned the loss of her perfect family, her perfect life.

But most of all, she cried for herself. For choices she made when she was seven. And the consequences of that upon her life. No matter how hard she tried to escape from that night. No matter how far she ran, or how much she buried those events deep inside her, she would never, ever be free.

It would follow her until the day she died. Hanging over her, throwing shade on any joy she might allow herself to feel, reminding her that she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t have the right.

When her energy waned, she curled up into a tight little ball on the stable floor and sobbed until she had nothing else inside.

She knew she had to find out who was doing this to her. Whatever the cost.

After all, what did she have left to lose?

37

The warm sunlight streamed through the office window but brought Charlie no joy. He stared at his monitor; he had done no work today. His mind had been drifting.

He kept thinking about Beth’s face on Saturday night. The fear in her eyes.

He hoped he was doing the right thing.

She was understandably scared being in the house alone, but she was an adult, and at least she could look after herself.

Daisy, on the other hand, needed protecting.

Charlie felt guilty. He loved Beth, of course he did. She was his world.

But he couldn’t help feeling betrayed.

He was also trying to get his head around the fact of who his wife actually was.

Kitty Briscoe. The girl who got away with murder.

Allegedly.

He had no doubt that he’d go back to her, but not until the current situation was sorted.

They had received a clear threat to their children. He couldn’t allow anything to happen to them.

Beth had been drunk. Charlie was sure she had not really seen what she claimed. The more he thought about the events of Saturday night, the more he convinced himself it was a desperate attempt to get him back. He had tentatively checked with Peter, and Zoe was away on a field trip. Her friends at school had been giving regular updates.

But why claim to have found Zoe’s body? Why not just say someone was in the house? That would have been enough to convince Charlie to go over. Something niggled at the back of his mind. Despite what he may have said to Beth in anger on Saturday, he didn’t believe she was crazy.

He knew that she was a calm and measured person. She rarely freaked out. She’d been spooked, but he wasn’t sure what by. She’d seen something. But it can’t have been Zoe.

Some mail landed with a loud thud on top of an already large pile on Charlie’s desk. He had about a week’s worth to open. The admin guy smirked and walked away.

Charlie began flicking through the letters.

Nothing of any interest. Until he found a bulky brown padded envelope towards the bottom. It had been there a few days, he couldn’t remember when it arrived.

It was hand-addressed, his name at the top. He eyed the scrawl nervously; it was similar to the notes. How had he not noticed the writing before?

He tore it open. Slipping his hand inside, he felt something cold and hard. He pulled it out to reveal a small glass bottle. Turning it over, he saw the label, raising both his eyebrows.

Chanel No.5.

People sent him corporate gifts all the time. Trying to curry his favour. But there was no note. No compliments slip. No indication who it was from. He would usually take stuff like this home for Beth, but at the moment he didn’t see the point.

‘Oooh, Chanel! Someone is trying to impress you,’ a high-pitched, whiney voice came from the bank of desks behind him.

Charlie looked over his shoulder to see one of the team beside him, craning her neck to see the bottle. A tall redhead, Charlie couldn’t remember her name.

‘Yeah,’ Charlie replied indifferently.

She stood up and crossed to his side.

‘Has your wife got a birthday coming up? She’d be dead chuffed with that.’

Charlie placed the package down on his desk, pushing it aside.

‘No. She doesn’t really wear this sort of stuff anyway.’

The girl’s expression changed. She smiled, twiddling her hair. She loitered next to Charlie’s desk, not saying anything. Smiling.

‘Would you like it?’ Charlie finally asked.

‘Me? Oh well, if it’s going begging I’ll take it off your hands, yeah,’ she said as if she wasn’t bothered. But Charlie could tell she was itching to grab the bottle and run. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want it?’

‘Nah, it’s yours.’ Charlie picked it up and handed it to her.

‘Thanks. Rob is going to be so jealous. He’ll be like, an older man giving you expensive perfume at work, hey?’ She gripped the glass as if she never intended to let it go. Her eyes wide, like an excited child.

‘I hope you’re not flirting with me, Charlie.’ She winked, her grin widening.

‘No,’ Charlie replied firmly. ‘Definitely not.’

The smile fell from her face, and she returned to her desk. Charlie shivered at the idea.

He heard the group behind him giggling, no doubt as the girl told them how Charlie must fancy her.

Older man? he thought, smiling to himself. He wondered when did girls start to think of him like that. He supposed he was now. He was the wrong side of forty.

But he still felt the same as he did at twenty. Apart from his neck clicking every time he turned his head. Or groaning whenever he stood up. At some point in the last ten years, without realising it, he had been slowly metamorphosing into his dad.

Derek bounded down the steps from the kitchen, pulling up a chair. He punched Charlie playfully on the shoulder.

‘How you holding up, big guy?’ he asked nervously.

‘Yeah, I’m