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Back Day of the Accident
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. What readers are saying about
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. Part Two
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. Part Three
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. Epilogue
  69. Acknowledgements
  70. THE NEXT THRILLER BY NUALA ELLWOOD
  71. THE BEGINNING

As I lie here on my bed, the letter still in my hands, I think back to the events of the morning. The police officer seemed convinced that the letter was just a silly prank and yet it is Elspeth’s handwriting, tall and spidery. How could a random prankster replicate that?

None of it makes sense and the lack of support from the police just makes it all the more frustrating. I try to order my thoughts. What do I know? That Sean thinks I killed Elspeth; that on the day of the accident I put Elspeth into the car in her dressing gown and drove to the Plough Inn; that there may or may not have been someone standing on the riverbank dressed in red; that actually Elspeth might not even be dead but be trapped somewhere; that Barbara Cosgrove thinks I was planning to do something evil at the riverbank.

And then there is Freya Nielssen. Who is she?

My eyes grow heavy. I shouldn’t be able to sleep after all that’s happened, but something is dragging me down. I’m helpless, sucked in. I dream I’m at the river. I feel numb with fear but I know I have to go through with this; that there is no alternative. She’s there in the water, she wants me to stop but I can’t. Her eyes are full of panic. She screams and I push down hard on her shoulders. I feel her wriggling beneath the water. I know I should stop but some powerful force is guiding me; voices inside my head screaming at me to do it. Then, at the last moment, the voices fall silent and I come to my senses. I let go my grip and lift her to the surface.

But it’s too late.

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