Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
- Forty-nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-one
- Acknowledgements
- An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Sheila Bugler
Going back through the stories she had bookmarked, Dee pulled out two faded photos – one of Kitty Doran and one of Lucy Ryan. She organised her screen so that the two photos were side by side, both girls smiling out at her. Two girls. Friends. Both missing.
Dee had read through everything she could find about Lucy’s disappearance and Kitty’s death. She hadn’t found a single thing that indicated any connection between the two events. But surely someone must have suspected the disappearance of two young girls was more than just a coincidence?
It was time to call Emer, and ask her what she knew about Lucy Ryan.
Nine
June 1997
‘Don’t be such a sissy.’
‘I’m not being a sissy,’ Lucy said. ‘I don’t want to do it, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’
Lucy pulled a face, the one she always made when she didn’t want to answer a question.
‘Why not?’ Kitty persisted.
‘I just don’t, okay?’
No. It wasn’t okay. Kitty didn’t want to be by herself when she found them. She needed Lucy with her, because otherwise no one would believe Kitty when she told them. And Kitty was planning on telling everyone.
‘Why is it so important, anyway?’ Lucy asked.
‘Because it’ll be fun,’ Kitty said. ‘And because we’re not allowed to go in there and I’m sick of always being told I’m not allowed do anything.’
It wasn’t fair, because adults got to do whatever they wanted – even really bad things like Mr O’Brien and her mum – but kids were always being told what they could and couldn’t do. Besides, Kitty didn’t see why she should do what her mother told her. It wasn’t like Mum never did things she wasn’t meant to. Kitty knew this because she’d seen her. Seen them. And heard them. Her stomach twisted, remembering it. She thought for a moment she was going to be sick.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing,’ Kitty said.
‘You look like you’re about to spew.’
They were sitting in the tree house at the bottom of Lucy’s garden. Lucy’s dad owned a hotel, which meant Lucy’s family had lots of money. So when the girls played together, Kitty usually came here. Because Kitty’s house was tiny, but Lucy had this huge house with a garden and a tree house that her father had built her.
Kitty’s stomach hurt and her throat ached from biting down the scream of pure rage that was fighting to get out. She wanted to hurt someone. They were sitting on the wooden floor of the tree house, their legs dangling over the side. Kitty imagined shoving Lucy forward, over the edge, and watching her fall to the ground. Lucy was smaller than she was. Skinnier too, and definitely nowhere near as strong as Kitty. All it would take was one good shove.