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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

‘I don’t know. I get the impression I’m not really your type.’

Ian stared at me, his chin jutting upwards. Cupping my cheek, he guided my face towards his. Penetrating me with his stare. I wanted to shrink back, to run. I avoided looking in those eyes for fear he would see who I really was. Forget the hair and the contacts, I was sure he would see straight through me and the damage he’d left behind. ‘You are perfect,’ he whispered.

Before I could react, his mouth was on mine. He tasted of red wine and smoke. His hand found the curve of my behind, pulling me towards him. I knew he was excited as he leant in to kiss my neck. My head whirled, his words echoing in my mind. I couldn’t move. Bare shoulders pressed against the brickwork took me straight back to that morning. He pulled away. Looking me up and down as I leaned against the wall for support, catching my breath, he began to laugh.

57

SUNDAY 28 JANUARY 2018

I didn’t have long to wait, and I’m surprised to feel relieved when the door finally opens. No point trying to put off the inevitable. The floor of the cell seems to shrink by the hour. The walls close in on me. The acidic smell of my vomit has settled in my nose and I can barely breathe in here. A man in uniform that I haven’t seen before stands in the doorway. He’s stocky with a shaven head and looks like he can handle himself. He won’t have any fight from me.

‘Eve Harding?’ he asks flatly, and I nod as he checks his list and ticks me off. ‘You’ll now be taken to HMP Downview where you’ll be remanded in custody. You’ll have the opportunity to speak with your solicitor again when you arrive. You’re in luck, it’s only fifteen minutes in the van, so it won’t take us long.’

My stomach gurgles and I feel the urge to go to the toilet. I can’t hide my terror. I’ve been so naive. How did I not see this would happen?

I am handcuffed before we leave. It’s such a strange sensation to be shackled. Metal cuffs drown my tiny wrists. They are heavy, pulling on my arms which hang limp in front of me.