BooksBarbecue
Back Stalker Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. EPILOGUE
  63. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  64. MORE FROM GEMMA ROGERS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  66. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

‘Oh, Amy’s dog got the better of me this morning,’ he replied, avoiding my gaze.

‘I’m glad you stayed at Amy’s.

‘Really? Why?’ He frowned. Was he expecting a fight?

‘My mother turned up last night. She’s just gone, thankfully, but fucking hell she’s a nightmare.’

‘Are you all right?’

I nodded. Now wasn’t the time to go into the history of our broken relationship.

‘Have you been out?’ he asked. Then realising I was still in my pyjamas continued, ‘There’s been some sort of fight or something last night. Girl got beaten up down the road.’

A shiver ran down my spine, something about Ben’s news rang alarm bells.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘No idea, but it was a bloke apparently. Bastard. Who would beat up a girl?’ His voice tailed off and he gave his head a little shake. I didn’t respond, I was too busy trying to process the news. It couldn’t be Ian, could it?

‘How do you know? Are the police there?’ I asked.

‘No, it’s been cordoned off. I heard a woman mention it as I walked past. She’s in the hospital apparently. It was her niece, I think she said, Sophie Whitaker. Does the name ring any bells?’

It was my turn to shake my head. I didn’t know her. But I was going to.

44

SUNDAY 21 JANUARY 2018

The automatic entrance of the hospital reception creaked open painfully slowly. A queue of people at the front tried to push their way through the doors as they were still parting. I could see the receptionist scowling at our impatience. Hospitals weren’t somewhere people wanted to be. Everyone looked miserable, wishing they were somewhere else. The sickly smell made me gag. It’s the antiseptic, smells the same in every hospital. Combined with the sterile white walls that close in, regardless of the cheerful art displayed. The whole place made me twitch. Too similar to the psychiatric units I’d seen in films. Perhaps I wouldn’t be allowed to leave once they’d realised how mad I was.

I approached the desk, smiling at the receptionist who didn’t return the favour.

‘Could you tell me what ward Sophie Whitaker is on please?’

She tapped her keyboard and waited, lips pressed tightly together.

‘Chiltern ward.’ Her tone was clipped.

‘Thank you.’

She didn’t break a smile. What was it with doctors and hospital receptionists? Everyone I’d ever encountered had a facial expression that resembled a bulldog chewing a wasp. Like they’d completely forgotten how to turn up the corners of their mouths, and this from people working in the care profession!