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Back The Midnight Man Save as PDF
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

Depression was my constant companion – the black dog that never left my side. I masked my true feelings with jokes, caring for others to take the onus off myself. In the beginning, the big brother scheme was as much for myself as anything. Helping others took the focus off my own pain. Then I met Christian, a sad, insecure little boy with responsibilities beyond any normal ten-year-old child’s. With few male figures in his life, social workers believed he would benefit from spending some time with me. It felt good to be looked up to.

Before long, he idolised me. I was indeed the big brother he never had. As the years passed, our meetings became less frequent and eventually we lost touch. He’d been shocked to catch me sleeping in Blackhall. Truth be told, he barely recognised me. I wasn’t the fresh-faced young guy he’d looked up to anymore. I was reaching middle age, with shoulders burdened by depression. But he said he’d do what it took to see me through. I told him I was working on something very important, and he was happy to help – no questions asked. I think he wanted to repay me for the past. I had to come down tough a couple of times when he tried to back away. But spending time in Blackhall brought him around to my way of thinking and he was happy to loan me his car. It was me who advised him to report it stolen in an effort to cover my tracks.

Then, when Blackhall was crawling with cops, he’d offered to let me stay in his room. I had my own place, but it was good to keep an eye on him. I’d felt bad, planting the knife and the balaclava in Christian’s back yard, but I needed to keep the police off my back. I also knew he’d stand a good chance of getting off. Especially when he’d have the best defence that money could buy. Being the son of an Irving brought privileges and that was certainly one of them. But this wasn’t about Christian, or the Irvings for that matter. It was about bringing Sarah Middleton back to where she belonged.

I watched her explore her old home, her face gaunt beneath the light of her candle. A quick call from my burner phone would divert the police to Jahmelia. That would keep them tied up for a while. Jahmelia was of no further use to me now. Sarah was the last piece of the puzzle and it was time for her to die. Again.

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