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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

Finding Ian’s dad had been a mission. I called seventeen care homes before I had any success. In the beginning, I was told they weren’t allowed to give out any information, but then I began claiming I was David Shaw’s niece. By the eighteenth call, to Nuthatch House, I was more than a little bored but had my patter perfected.

‘Hi. I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for my uncle, David Shaw. Is he a resident here?’

A gruff man with an Eastern European accent answered and he didn’t sound particularly friendly. ‘Yeah. Why, do you want to come and see him? Visits are by appointment only.’

I was so surprised I’d finally found him that I hesitated in my reply.

‘Yes, yes I do want to come and see him. Is he okay, I heard he’d had an accident?’

The man snorted. ‘Listen, love, he’s ten feet away from me, watching television in the communal room. He’s fine.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied, feeling oddly relieved for the man I’d never met. The father of a monster. Now I knew Ian was lying. Where was he? Laying low at home waiting for his knuckles to heal or did he really go to Oxford?

‘Hang on. Who did you say you were? You must know Ian? Does he know you’re coming to visit?’

Fuck. Whoever he was, he knew Ian. If he found out someone was falsely identifying herself as David’s niece, he might know it was me. I ended the call. My fingers trembling as they slid across the screen. Shit. What an idiot. He wouldn’t call Ian, would he? I was glad I’d withheld my number. I prayed it would be forgotten when he next contacted them or that someone else would answer the phone if he called to check in on his father. It didn’t sound like the most welcoming place.

My eyes darted around the room, turning the call over in my mind. Why could you only visit by appointment? That was odd. I had no experience of care homes, but I’d assumed they would have visiting hours, the same as a hospital? Booking an appointment to see your loved one sounded strange, suspicious even. Why couldn’t you just drop in unannounced? I had to use the internet again but didn’t dare use my home Wi-Fi or laptop for any of these searches. Especially now I knew what I was looking for.