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Back The Sleepover Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. EPILOGUE
  69. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  70. MORE FROM KERI BEEVIS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. About Boldwood Books

The woman is a pain in the arse and an inconvenience I really don’t want to have to deal with.

I type Lauren’s name into Google and the various social media platforms where I have fake accounts. Her name is fairly common, so it takes a little while to locate her, but I’m pleased to see she is active on Facebook and Instagram. People give too much away online and it makes it so much easier to track them down.

By the time I have finished with Lauren, she will regret ever trying to contact me.

35

Bill had instructed her to stay in the cottage, but Eileen was growing bored. There was only so much housework she could do and TV shows she could watch.

He had given her a phone and she tried to keep up to date with what was going on with her disappearance. She had seen the reports that she was missing and knew the police were looking for her, but if they had any leads they weren’t saying.

With the worldwide web at her fingertips, she had not been able to resist looking up the bitches who had ruined her life, positively bursting with glee when she read about the death of Jill Peters. Would they be burying her near the body of her snivelling little brother, Miles?

Eileen had despised that kid and enjoyed feeding on his fear.

Just a shame the brat had pegged it. If he hadn’t be so weak and pathetic, she wouldn’t have lived in hell for twenty years.

It had taken having a kid of her own to realise quite how much enjoyment she got from tormenting children. They were little brats, all of them, but she learnt how to paint on a friendly face and lure them in with smiles and treats, passing off her cruel pranks as funny games, and she understood how to manipulate them into not telling. They looked up to her and they trusted her and she fed on that. There was nothing more satisfying than finding an excuse to punish them, then seeing their frightened faces the moment she let her mask slip.

And she had moulded Bill to be her little helper. All she had to do was knock down his confidence, keep him in line with occasional punishments and reward him with treats when he did her bidding. And as he got older, she could see a little of herself in him, understanding that he had the same cruel streak.

She had seen that with the death of Scott Copeland.