The shower of rain died as Carla approached the pier, and she sought out her contact beneath the orange haze of the street light. But her informant was nowhere to be seen. The text had said she would be waiting at the pier, which was now closed to visitors. As she approached, the sight of the jemmied entrance made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Her head swivelled from left to right. She should call it in, report the damage. She paused to catch her breath as her heart thundered in her chest. A few minutes wouldn’t make any difference. She had worked hard to gain her informant’s trust. She couldn’t let her down.
The pier had been recently renovated, with two sets of doors to get through before you could reach the outdoor section. Sliding through each one, Carla walked quietly down the wooden platform, the wind playing with her hair. On the mainland, a burst of faint laughter carried on the breeze as revellers drank beyond their limits. The pier stretched out into the sea, the pubs and clubs nothing more than twinkling lights on the shore. Carla’s surroundings became eerily quiet, the only sound the rush of the waves beneath the creaking rain-slick boards. A chill crept over her as she continued walking. The rides and stands were still, the arcade machines and aquarium locked. Dark shadows loomed, and the creaking of rusty metal caused by the strengthening breeze added to the apocalyptic feel. Every muscle in her body tensed as her sense of unease grew. She should at least tell someone where she was. But the text hadn’t been random. She had recognised the number and was pleased to have finally gained her trust.
But now, standing here in the darkness, it felt all wrong. ‘Hello?’ she called out, walking towards the circular building that housed a restaurant at the end of the pier. During the day, it sold ice cream, chips and chicken nuggets, but tonight its drawn shutters rattled what felt like a warning as she approached. Moonlight cascaded across the wooden boards, the sharp wind making Carla’s eyes water. She raised her voice against the rush of the sea as she caught movement at the side of the building.
‘Hello?’ Carla stepped forward, blinking in the darkness. ‘There’s no need to be scared,’ she said. ‘I’m on my own.’
But the eyes of the person before her were hard and steely as they stepped out of the shadows. A silent watcher who had been waiting. Only then did Carla realise that she had walked into a trap.
‘No!’ she screamed, as strong hands encased her in a bear hug. With her arms tightly pinned against her body, Carla wriggled and kicked as they dragged her towards the barrier at the edge of the pier. Her attacker was wearing a balaclava, which struck immediate fear into her chest. Had her contact set her up? Or had she been killed? Because the person before her was not here to reason. They hadn’t spoken a word.
‘No!’ she screamed as she fought beneath their grip, barely able to catch her breath. ‘Please! No!’ Her feet slipped against the wet decking as she struggled to stay upright. Her heart was pounding, adrenalin coursing through her body as she fought for her life. But her screams were carried away on the wind as she fought against her attacker, who was pressed tightly against her. Immovable. Unaffected. Steady and relentless in their mission. There was momentary release as a hand slipped into her pocket and retrieved her mobile phone. Carla tried to drop to her knees to dislodge herself but the response was instant as she was lifted fully from the ground. Tears blurred her vision as the sight of the sea loomed ahead. No, she thought. Not this.
All she could hear was the crash of waves beneath her as her attacker’s face pressed against hers. Whoever it was held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. ‘Sorry,’ they spat with gritted teeth, as Carla was lifted over the edge. ‘But you know a secret worth killing for.’ The voice brought a sudden jolt of recognition. No . . . not you, Carla thought, struggling to catch her breath.
And then she was falling backwards, arms flailing, feeling as if she were in slow motion as the faces of her children flashed in her mind. The cold, violent shock of salt water invaded her lungs with force. Her clothing was soaked, her boots heavy as they dragged her down. Her muscles ached as she clawed the water, trying desperately to stay afloat. The lone figure of her attacker watched from above as she was consumed by darkness, pulled into the depths of the sea. Slowly, Carla’s limbs came to rest. Her last breath floated towards the surface as air bubbles escaped her nose and mouth. She was dying, and nobody was coming to save her. In that moment, Carla knew she would never see her children again.
CHAPTER ONE
Friday 23 July
Amy couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she sensed that change was on its way. A feeling of foreboding had lingered since she awoke, a heavy, dragging sensation in the pit of her gut. She leaned against her office door, arms folded, watching her team. Used to her presence, they carried on with their work. Perhaps it was during Amy’s early childhood that she had learnt to silently observe. As a child in a house of murderers, you held your tongue or risked losing it.
Today, nobody was in trouble, and there was nothing to fear. With a plethora of newspapers on her desk, Amy was keeping her eye on things nationally. There were some interesting cases on the go, including a few random suicides at seaside resorts. Amy
