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Back Cut to the Bone Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Cut to the Bone
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Roz Watkins
  5. Note to Readers
  6. Dedication
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. Extract
  67. Prologue
  68. Chapter 1
  69. Author’s note
  70. Acknowledgements
  71. About the Publisher

‘I googled it, Dad. I know what it means. Callous and unemotional traits. I googled it and the first article was called, “When Your Child Is a Psychopath”. A psychopath, Dad? You know what else it said? “The condition has long been considered untreatable. Experts can spot it in a child as young as three or four.” That’s what I found out.’ She turned to me. ‘That’s right isn’t it?’

I gave her a non-committal look.

‘It’s not what you think,’ Tony said.

‘Fucking hell,’ Bex said. ‘Aunt Janet told me about the bad people in Gritton, the Pale Child, the boy who died. Was that all Kirsty’s doing? Was that why I had to live with Janet? Was Kirsty dangerous?’

‘You’ve got it all wrong.’ Tony stood and walked stiffly from the room.

I took a gulp of coffee and looked around. I felt unaccountably tired. A photograph in a gold frame lay face-down on the table by my sofa. I propped it back up. A young woman who looked like Violet. But paler than Violet. She was beautiful in an otherworldly way. Her eyes were brilliant blue, her hair very blonde. My hand shook as I put down my empty coffee mug.

Bex had leaned back in her chair, eyes closed. A grandfather clock ticked.

My phone buzzed. A text from Jai: Strange result – the boy buried in the woods is Violet’s father, as suspected. But he’s also related to Bex Smith. Her full brother. Not the twin who died age 3. Looks like she had another brother we didn’t know about. Estimated age at death: 13–14.

I stared at the phone. Another brother? Another brother who Bex didn’t know existed? Who dressed in old-fashioned girls’ clothes. Who raped Bex – his own sister – and fathered Violet. My head spun with it.

Tony was in the doorway. He saw I’d been looking at the photograph, and said, ‘Don’t you think she’s lovely? Like Bex and Violet. She was beautiful then and she’s still beautiful now.’

I was feeling woozy. ‘Who is she?’

My head fell back before he had time to answer.

51

I opened my eyes. My head was pounding as if it had been beaten. I blinked and tried to focus.

I was in a modern-looking living room, dimly lit by a lamp on a small table. There were no windows. I was lying on a fabric sofa, its weave soft under my skin. The air smelled of vanilla. A faint noise that sounded like drilling drifted down from above.

I dragged myself into a sitting position. There was a kitchen area at the end of the room. Sleek, modern units. What had happened? My mind was in a mush. I’d been with Bex and Tony.