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Back The Imposter Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. ANNA WHARTON
  3. Dedication page
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  54. Praise
  55. THE IMPOSTER

She works on automatic; she knows how things operate here. Each file is a small brown gusset envelope, just slightly bigger than a postcard. Most have a few dozen cuttings folded neatly inside, the girth of the envelope a giveaway to the stories that have dominated the headlines over the decades. Some have even multiplied, giving birth to one or even two more envelopes. In those cases the files will be marked cont. and numbered. But the first one she picks up, although thick, has only one line on the front: KYLE; ANGELA. It’s written as all the others are: neat capitals in black marker, double underlined in the top right-hand corner. Just the way Alec likes it. She has always appreciated the archive for that, the safety within the order of everything. How she needs that today.

Chloe turns the file over in her hands, noticing how some of the seams have started to give way. She pulls its insides out as carefully as a surgeon, the envelope collapsing without them. Dozens of cuttings scatter across the light grey melamine of her desk, fanning out like a neutral paint chart, instantly revealing the length of time this particular story has dominated the headlines. The older cuttings are various shades of pale yellow and ivory – daffodil white, perhaps; the newer ones are magnolia.

Chloe picks a cutting at random. It’s an old one, she can tell from the folds that have been impressed over and over by the hammy thumbs of reporters. She takes extra care not to tear the fine newsprint as she peels it open, stirring it again with oxygen. The cutting resists as she stretches it awake, but a second later it is laid bare in front of her.

POLICE GIVE UP SEARCH FOR MISSING ANGIE

She immediately thinks of Nan and glances at her phone. Nothing. She checks the volume, makes doubly sure the ringtone is on. Still nothing.

She takes the cutting and places it under the scanner. The white light flickers beneath the cover, and as she waits questions accumulate. Who is Angie? Why is she missing? And most importantly for Chloe right now, why did the police give up their search for this person?

When the clipping appears on her screen a few seconds later, she zooms in quickly – once, twice – and starts to read:

YESTERDAY, police revealed the search for missing Angela Rose Kyle has finally been scaled back. The four-year-old disappeared on 27 October last year, after a trip to a city park with her father Patrick Kyle.