The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists Daniel Hurst (moboreader txt) 📖

I know Chloe was just as shocked as I was when she was presented with the evidence, but she surprised me by taking it in good grace, telling me that she couldn’t really complain about being punished by a man she had killed in her bedroom with a kitchen knife. Fortunately, that was as far as her good mood extended, and she has not admitted to Jimmy’s murder, even though the existence of the email was done in such a way that it would have only been sent in the event that Jimmy was killed. He said as much at the bottom of the email.

“If you are receiving this then I am dead, and Chloe Maguire probably killed me too.”

Fortunately, without a confession, evidence or a body, the police can’t pin his death on my daughter too, which is some consolation, albeit not much considering she is already looking at one life sentence to serve.

Now Chloe is awaiting confirmation of her punishment, and I am left to think not only about the terrible time that will await her when she is given her sentence but also about how lucky I am that I am not in that prison with her staring at my own grim fate.

For the life of me, I cannot fathom why Jimmy only sent the video of Chloe killing Rupert to the police and not one of me burying him. I have to assume that Jimmy filmed that too. So why hold that back? It’s not as if he could have anything to gain by doing so. I know Chloe is wondering the same thing too. She even told me that she feared the worst when she learned of the video, believing that it must have also featured the part where I turned up and dragged Jimmy into that hole. But it didn’t. The video ended before I arrived, which is the only thing keeping me on the outside and not in there alongside my daughter.

I seem to have got lucky.

But to use that term to describe me is laughable.

I’m not lucky. What I am is a single parent whose only child turned out to be a killer and is now in the place she deserves to be, no matter how much it hurts me. I am also unemployed, having left my role as a police officer in the wake of Chloe’s arrest, unable to go into work and face my colleagues who would no doubt have wondered how I could have spawned such a despicable person as the notorious Chloe Maguire.

My daughter’s face has been in all the newspapers, of course, as well as mentioned countless times on television broadcasts and radio bulletins. My face has also appeared on the front page a couple of times; the image used one of me in my full police uniform taken not long after I started working in the force.

The journalists seemed to like the fact that a copper’s daughter could be guilty of murder.

So now here I am, sitting at home in my empty house, guilty of some of the same crimes as my daughter yet free to get on with my life while she has lost the right to live hers as she would wish.

Do I still feel guilty? Yes.

Do I still wish it was me in there instead of her? Yes.

But do I at least feel a little better about the fact that Rupert’s parents have answers now?

Yes, I do.

The only thing that is still outstanding in my mind is what happened to the missing student up in Newcastle. Despite my fears that Chloe did to him what she did to Rupert, she has not confessed to any crime there, declining to ever speak about it when I bring it up with her. I have stopped asking her about it now, and I fear I will never know the truth.

Maybe I’ll get her to be honest with me one day.

I’ll still visit her inside, of course.

I’m still her mum.

And she is where she is because of me.

44

CHLOE

I’ve come to terms with what my life looks like now.

It’s been a month since I got sentenced to twenty years for the murder of Rupert, meaning I’ll be pushing forty before I get back out of here. Of course, there are those who say I should never be allowed out again after what I have done, and I understand where they are coming from. They see me as a lost cause, someone who is so capable of extreme violence that there is nothing that can be done to re-integrate me into society. But I think they’re wrong. I can change. I changed before, didn’t I? I wasn’t always obsessed with the thought of killing somebody. That only happened when I saw Mum do it. So I can change again. It won’t be easy, and I’m sure it’s going to take a lot of time, but that’s something I’m not short of now.

One of the fellow prisoners on my wing tells me that the key to getting through a sentence like ours is to take it a day at a time, so that is what I will do. Sometimes, that is easier said than done, but today will be a good day.

That’s because Mum is coming to visit me.

I follow the prison guard through the door that takes us into the Visitor’s Room, and that’s when I see her, sitting at the third table from the back, her head down, and her shoulders stooped as if to make herself seem smaller and less noticeable in a place like this. It’s an obvious way to be considering Mum is actually one of the most famous people in town these days, thanks to her connection to me and my notorious crime. I did suggest that it would be easier if she was to move away and start again somewhere else, but she decided against it. She wants to be nearby so