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Back The Family Next Door Save as PDF
Chapters (117)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
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  48. 43
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  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
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  54. 49
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  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Turner insisted that he had “made a mistake” and had originally intended to use his telescope for documenting cloud formations and stargazing.

Turner pleaded guilty to two counts of voyeurism between 2011 and 2012 and was sentenced to a three-year community order. He was ordered to sign the Sex Offenders Register for five years.

He was sacked from his job in March.

Dessie was finding it difficult to breathe, the truth as cold and stinging as winter rain.

Five dead bodies had been found in the woods a stone’s throw from her house. No suspects. No arrests. Nothing. And here she was, living with a stranger who had lied about his past.

A lump of iron settled in her chest.

Fletcher Parnell had changed his name to escape his criminal record. He had preyed on vulnerable women. He had kept a terrible secret from her.

The question was, what else was he capable of?

71

71

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 7:31 P.M.

25 The Avenue

Their father was on the telephone to their mother’s sister.

Aster emptied half a saucepan’s worth of baked beans onto her brother’s toast and sat down opposite him. Both children picked up their knives and forks. Put them down again.

“I can’t stop hearing it.” Evan seemed shrunken, a shadow of himself. Aster’s mouth was still dry from fear. She nodded, surprised by a wave of tearfulness.

Her brother pushed his plate away. Dark patches beneath his eyes. A scar on his cheek from a toy car she had thrown at him when he was a toddler and had scribbled on her drawing of a cat.

He looked across the table at her, seeking reassurance and guidance. His expression said What shall we do? But she didn’t know.

“Who do you think it was?” He poked at a bean with his finger.

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“Do you think it was a child or a grown-up?”

“Evan—”

“Do you think we should tell Dad?”

“I think Dad’s got enough on his mind at the moment.”

“Do you think we should tell someone?”

Aster picked up her plate and scraped its contents into the bin. Ran warm water into the pan. From her vantage point at the sink, she could see a police car parked on the street outside. Perhaps Evan was right. They could tell the police. Or Bailey and the other boys. But the idea of talking about the contents of the tape made her squirm with embarrassment and fear. It had upset her more than she was letting on.

Evan dug up a forkful of beans. Took a sip of his milk. Aster smiled to herself. It looked like her brother’s appetite had returned. Some things never changed.

“I’ve got an idea.” His mouth was full of beans and toast.

“Go on.”