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Back The Midnight Man
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for Caroline Mitchell
  5. Also by Caroline Mitchell
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. About Caroline Mitchell
  70. About Embla Books

Her limbs jerked in fright as a motorbike backfired outside her home. This cottage was the one place in the world where she used to feel safe. Despite what happened to David, despite everything. It had been her haven, her hideaway. Part of a happy childhood memory. Now, she dreaded walking inside the door. The intruder had been right about her cat. He was also spot on about work. He seemed to see right through her. As she’d feared, Gabby had been wrong about the first letter. This was real, and it couldn’t be any more personal. Had he taken those girls just to lure her in? Whoever the Midnight Man was, he knew her. He also knew about her husband.

Sarah allowed herself to visit the moment when her life, which she had so carefully rebuilt, came crashing down once more. She remembered the rain hammering like nails on the roof of her car as she drove home. Her planned day of shopping had been a total washout and she’d come back early with some goodies from the bakery for later on.

David’s car was on the drive, and she’d been surprised that he wasn’t at work. Calling his name, she entered the house, but there was no response. It was only when she placed her food shop on the kitchen counter that she saw the garden shed light was on. David called it his ‘man shed’, a place to watch the footie with a small TV and a mini fridge with some beers. With his job, he needed to decompress. But why was he in the shed when he’d had the house to himself? Holding her coat over her head, she ran down the muddy garden path, almost slipping on the way. ‘David?’ she’d called, pulling on the door. The light was still on, but there was no response. He usually answered before she reached it. She remembered peering in through the window. It was so high up, she’d had to stand on a bucket to see in.

By the time the ambulance came, she’d smashed a pane of glass and was trying to climb in. She hadn’t noticed the blood running in rivulets down her hand as she tried to get to him. It wasn’t to undo the clear plastic bag he had placed over his head. It was to save him the indignity of being found dead with his trousers undone. Back then, she couldn’t make out what he’d been looking at on his computer as he suffocated. But the police did. They also saw the piles of images featuring underage boys and girls. There was nothing. No explanation. Just a shed full of porn.