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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

‘Nanny, can we go now?’ Jahmelia looked at her grandmother hopefully. Sarah had a sneaking suspicion that Jahmelia wasn’t ready for the realms of her teenage years just yet.

‘I thought they’d be finished by now,’ Richie said, unzipping his leather jacket a couple of inches as he joined them.

‘So did we.’ Sarah laughed awkwardly. ‘I should have sold tickets.’ But the ring of her phone was about to alert her that Blackhall wasn’t done with her yet. It was the builder.

‘We have to hang fire,’ he said. ‘It’s a legal issue. We’re downing tools.’ As the call came to an abrupt end, Sarah stood in disbelief, staring at the building which had housed so much pain.

‘I can’t believe it.’ Exasperated, Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. ‘The builders can’t do it; there’s some legal problem. Blackhall Manor still stands.’

Epilogue

Wednesday, 25th December 2019

It seemed that even prison couldn’t keep the Midnight Man contained. Weeks after Lewis Carter’s arrest he was still all people could talk about. Online blogs, news articles and true crime podcasts were popping up daily to discuss the mystery of the army hero turned bad. On television, political chat show hosts discussed the government’s responsibility to help its fallen heroes and some enthusiastic Twitter users were campaigning to set Lewis free.

But not the townsfolk of Slayton. They couldn’t bring themselves to speak his name. Each limp yellow ribbon forged a memory of Angelica’s murder. Each house half-heartedly decorated for Christmas demonstrated an apathy arisen from shock. Bruised and battle-scarred, the people of Slayton had retreated into themselves, edgy and suspicious. Journalists were ignored, doorbells unanswered and curtains permanently closed.

Sarah cast her eyes to the left over Slayton’s expansive lake. It seemed a monochrome version of itself – much deeper and darker than before. Further down were the outskirts of Blackhall Woods. It was a no-go area for teenagers, and it was much to Sarah’s frustration that Blackhall Manor still stood. Despite locals wanting the building to be flattened, someone from out of town had kicked up a fuss. Blackhall was a listed building, and home to a colony of bats which were a species protected by law. Sarah set her gaze straight ahead. Despite the darkness surrounding Slayton, she still came back. Slayton wasn’t home; without her family she wasn’t sure she knew what home was, but it was a part of her. Checking her watch, she edged her foot on the accelerator. Maggie was waiting. She couldn’t afford to be late.