A sour taste filled Lizzie’s mouth as saliva flooded it.

She had to face this.

Tearing open the envelope before she could change her mind again, she pulled the crisp, white, headed paper from it.

Dear Mrs Brenfield,

As per your request, I write to inform you that Mr William Cawley is to be released from HMP Baymead, Devon, on the 9th July 2019.

Lizzie’s vision blurred, her grip loosened. Before she could read on, the paper fell to the ground.

Creepy Cawley had been released from his thirty-year sentence three days ago.

He was a free man.

Chapter Three

1989

Bovey Police Station, outskirts of Mapledon

Friday 21st July – 36 hours after the incident

Shock covered her face with a white mask. She didn’t remember how she’d come to be there, standing alongside her mother, whose long, thin arm formed a tight band around her shoulders. Protective, yet angry at the same time.

‘I’d told her. Told them. Warned them.’ Her mother’s voice was clipped, spoken in such a way as to make her seem out of breath. Maybe she was in shock, too.

‘I’m sure you did what you could,’ police officer Vern said. ‘As a parent myself, I know how difficult it is to keep your eyes on your children all the time. You have to give them some freedom, and as you say, it’s a small village – you don’t expect something like this to happen.’

‘No. No, you don’t,’ she agreed, her head shaking from side to side.

‘I’m sorry to have to keep you, I know you’d like to get your daughter back home, but I do need to speak with her. Try to get a fuller picture – a timeframe of events. It’s crucial we don’t waste any more time … You understand, don’t you?’

Her mother looked down at her as the officer spoke. A tingling feeling spread through her, reaching her fingertips, making them feel as though they were on fire. There was something in the tone of the policeman’s voice – a hidden meaning she couldn’t grasp. But by the look on her mother’s face, she knew it was bad. It was all bad. And now she’d have to tell them what had happened. What she’d caused to happen.

It was all her fault. She’d get the blame for it all.

Chapter Four

2019

Anna

Friday 12th July

The sign, greying with age and rusted at the edges, came into view and Anna’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles blanching.

MAPLEDON.

Even before she turned off the main road she could feel her world shrinking. The village had been all-consuming when she’d lived there – everyone had known everyone else, everyone attended the same events, frequented the same – and only – pub; all her friends’ parents lived in each other’s pockets, socialising together, some even working together. There were no secrets in Mapledon. No chances to mess up without someone knowing. No opportunities to play outside the rules.