Deep Dark Secrets: A Must Read Psychological Thriller

Prologue

December 1998

Somebody was in the house.

Lizzie had fallen asleep on the couch, so didn’t hear the first thud, but the sound of breaking glass jolted her awake. She hadn’t meant to doze off, only intended to close her eyes for a few seconds. The noise had her bolting upright, the textbook she had been reading slipping to the floor as her heart leapt into her mouth. She held her breath, told herself not to panic. For a moment it was just her beating heart and the soft methodical ticking of the grandfather clock. Glancing at the time, she noted it was almost nine. Early still, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t Nell. Maybe she had cut her date short? She had promised Lizzie she wouldn’t be late. Or perhaps it was the Dolans? It crossed her mind briefly that Nell would be in trouble if Mr and Mrs Dolan arrived home and found out she wasn’t here. Lizzie was about to call out, wanting reassurance, when she heard a distinctly male cough. She froze.

‘For fuck’s sake, keep it down.’

The voice wasn’t more than a whisper, but it was angry. It wasn’t Nell, it wasn’t the Dolans, and there appeared to be two of them. She picked up her book, her scrambled brain telling her legs to move. Why weren’t her legs moving? The footsteps were now in the hall leading down to the living room, and they were growing closer.

Run.

Her feet finally engaged, the textbook still tightly clutched in her hand as a useless weapon. The kitchen was ahead. There was an archway leading through to the front hallway where she could make her escape.

‘Are you sure the place is empty?’ A different man’s voice.

‘I told you it was. They’re gonna be gone for hours.’

‘So, who does the glass belong to?’

Dear God. In her hurry to get out of the room, Lizzie had forgotten her soda.

Get out, now, before they find you.

She glanced at the archway that led to the hallway and the safety of the front door. Above her, Tommy and Emily slept. If she ran she would leave them alone with two intruders.

‘Who the fuck is here? You said it would be empty.’

‘Ssssh.’

They were listening for her.

Lizzie made a decision. She tiptoed across to the counter and slid a large stainless steel knife from the block sat next to the oven. She wouldn’t let them hurt Tommy and Emily. She crept out into the hallway, her thick socks muffling her footsteps on the wooden floor as she passed the huge Christmas tree decorated in bands of red and silver, its expensive baubles twinkling in the light of the giant chandelier. Her legs were shaking as she took the stairs to the second floor. The rich mahogany of the bannister was decorated with fake holly, winding round and round as it led a path up the staircase. Mrs Dolan always went to town at Christmas and the house was like something on a seasonal greeting card. Onto the half landing and from below came the sound of footsteps. They were in the kitchen now and still arguing.

‘There’s no car in the drive. Trust me, no-one is home.’

‘You can’t say that for sure.’

‘What about the kids?’

‘Sleepover at a friend’s. The house is empty.’

‘So, how do you explain the soda?’

‘Maybe they forgot to clear it away. Listen up. I have more to lose than you do, so stop whining like a little bitch and let’s get this done and get out of here.’

Lizzie didn’t stop to hear anymore. She needed to wake Tommy and Emily, get them somewhere safe. She opened Tommy’s door quietly, thankful it didn’t creak, and crossed to the bed where the ten-year-old slept on his belly, comforter half on the floor and one leg of his PJs rolled up to his knee.

‘Tommy?’ Lizzie set down her textbook and knife on the nightstand and reached for his shoulder, her whisper urgent. ‘Tommy, I need you to wake up.’

He opened one eye, stared at her sleepily. ‘What are you–?’

‘Shush. You have to be quiet.’

‘Where’s Nell?’

‘I’ll explain, but first we have to get Emily.’

‘But–’

‘Nell had to go out. Tommy, I need you to listen.’ He was fully awake now and sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes.

‘There’s someone in the house. We need to hide.’

His eyes widened and she could see he had a million questions. He was too young to properly understand and he should be sheltered from this, but there wasn’t time. From downstairs came a distinctly male cough.

Tommy’s eyes opened wider still. ‘Who’s that?’ His voice was frightened.

‘I don’t know, but there’s two of them and they broke in. We need to get your sister and find somewhere to hide.’

Mercifully he quit with the questions and climbed out of bed.

‘Try to stay as quiet as possible. We don’t want them to hear us, okay?’

He nodded, clinging to Lizzie’s free hand as she picked up the knife and they made their way across to Emily’s room. Tommy’s four-year-old sister was more difficult to rouse and Lizzie ended up carrying her, quilt trailing on the floor, to the closet where Tommy waited. She ushered Tommy inside and settled Emily down in his arms before returning for the knife she’d left next to Emily’s bed.

‘What do we do now?’ Tommy asked. He sounded frightened. Lizzie returned to him, crouching down. ‘I need you to stay here and keep quiet.’

‘What about you? Where you gonna be?’

‘Do your mom and dad have a phone in their room?’

‘Yeah. It’s next to the bed.’

‘I’m going to try and get it, to call the police. You stay here, okay?’

‘You’re gonna come back, right?’

‘Yes, I’m coming right back.’

As she started to close the door, Tommy caught hold of her hand.

‘Lizzie?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know, baby. I’ll be as quick as I can. You hold on to your sister and keep as quiet as possible. Whatever happens, don’t come out of the closet. Promise?’

‘Promise.’

Lizzie slid the closet door shut and with a deathly grip on the knife, made her way across the room. Mr and Mrs Dolan’s bedroom was at the end of the landing. Barely daring to breathe, she crept down the hallway and into their room. Her relief when she spied the phone on the nightstand was quickly overshadowed by a fresh wave of fear as she heard footsteps on the stairs. She froze, perspiration beading on her forehead, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed the handle of the knife even tighter.

Her eyes darted around the room. The closet was the only option, but it was on the opposite side of the room to the phone. Voices grew closer.

‘You’re sure you know the combination?’

‘Jesus! Yeah, I’m sure.’

Lizzie flew for the closet, pulled back the door and squeezed herself inside, huddling between rows of dresses. She pulled the door shut, holding her breath. They were in the bedroom now. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. The clothes smelt of detergent and a soft musky perfume.

Stay still. Don’t make a sound.

The closet door opened, startling both Lizzie and the two men dressed in black. In blind panic, Lizzie leapt out of the closet, lashing out with the knife. She heard an anguished scream but didn’t wait to see what damage she had inflicted.

‘Fucking bitch. She’s getting away.’

Down the stairs, with footsteps close behind her, she ran into the kitchen, her socked feet slipping on the polished floor. As she ran for the front door she felt a hand grab at her hair, yank hard, and she stumbled, falling back and fighting to keep a grip on the knife as the man who had chased her straddled her, pinning her down. Shock registered as she recognised him. She tried to raise the knife, but her strength was no match for a grown man and he easily gained control, prising the knife from her fingers. She reached up, using her now free hand, and speared her thumb towards his eye. He screamed, lashing out wildly, with Lizzie twisting beneath the blows he rained down. As she started choking, horror registered in his one good eye. He raised his hands to his face. They were covered in blood.

Lizzie glanced past him to the stairs, at the decorations snaking up the bannister, to the little boy, his thumb in his mouth, crouched in his pyjamas midway up the steps. Were it not for his frightened eyes, she could have believed he was sitting there waiting for Santa.

Then the picture-postcard scene darkened to black.

1

September 2017

If there was an award given for bad days, Nell O’Connor figured the one she was experiencing would be in the running. First she had slept through her alarm, then shortly after leaving the motel the engine in her car had overheated and she’d had to wait for a tow truck, then a further two hours at the garage while her radiator was repaired. She couldn’t use her card, couldn’t risk Caleb tracing her, so she had counted out dollar bills from her precious stash of cash, relieved to have enough left for the ferry crossing. The final setback was on the last leg of her journey when, with less than twenty-five minutes to spare before the ferry departed, she hit a traffic jam on the freeway. There were later ferries, but she wouldn’t make it to the bank before they closed.

She tapped her fingers impatiently against the wheel, the radio that had been her constant companion since leaving Chicago now grating on her nerves. Spotting the sign ahead for East Haven, knowing she could cut through the back streets to the ferry port, she hit her blinker. She caught a couple of red lights, but traffic was lighter than on the freeway and she was blessing her decision to cut through, until she caught the tail end of another jam on the main road out of town leading down to the port. Nell glanced at the clock, knew she had about twelve minutes to play with as she drew bumper-to-bumper with the car in front. This wasn’t going to work. She was going to miss the damn boat. She swore under her breath, tightening her grip on the wheel. And then she remembered the harbour road that ran down the back of the main street leading to the waterside. It was meant for supply trucks but was generally empty, and was the only chance she had of getting there before her boat left.

Nell slowed the Ford and waited for a break in the traffic to make the turn. She glanced again at the clock and saw she was down to ten minutes. A gap came in the traffic and she seized it, turning into the private road. Mostly she stuck to the rules, but today was an exception. She was familiar with the road, knew it was a four-minute journey straight through. No-one would be any the wiser and she wouldn’t miss the crossing.

As she sped past the backs of the shops her gut tightened. Returning to the island brought mixed emotions: nostalgia tinged by regret and, bubbling under the surface, apprehension. Purity had been her home for the first ten years of her life, and, even after her mother had moved them to the mainland, she had continued to spend summers on the island with her aunt. Things had changed though since the last time she had been there and her absence over the years would have done nothing to redress the balance.

Still, it was better than what she was running away from in Chicago.

The car eased round to the right and she began the downhill descent to the waterfront, getting her first view of the ocean. The afternoon sun bounced off the surface, raining sparkles across the swelling green hues of the water. In the distance she spied a couple of sail boats, and knew they were probably filled with tourists staying on the island, hoping to spot a pod of dolphins.

Up ahead a truck pulled into the road, blocking part of the view and Nell pulled into a driveway so it could pass. A few yards before it reached her, the driver hit his hazards and came to a stop outside the back of a bar. Angling his baseball cap low on his forehead, he climbed down from the cab. Nell thumped her palm against the steering wheel as he moved to the back and threw open the doors, beginning to unload crates.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

The driver had stopped on the narrowest part of the road and there was no way she was going to get past his truck. Frustration bubbled over as she killed the engine and climbed from her car.

‘Excuse me.’

The truck driver didn’t answer at first, so she tried again, louder. This time he glanced up, a lazy grin on his face. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘I need to get down to the ferry. I can’t get past your truck.’

The guy glanced at Nell’s car then down to the port. He was young, maybe early to mid-twenties, with a swarthy complexion and a goatee. ‘You know this is a private road, right?’

‘Yes, I know. My ferry goes in about eight minutes. I had to cut through. You need to move your truck.’

‘Well, if you know that, you know it’s for deliveries only.’

‘Yes, I saw the sign. But I told you, I’m running late and I have to be on this ferry. If you could please let me past this once.’

‘Sorry, ma’am, rules are rules. The road’s private so we don’t have to let people through.’

‘I get that, but–’

‘No buts. I make an exception for you, I have to start making one for everybody. Now I’m sorry but you’re either going to have to turn around or wait until I’m done.’ He tilted his hat at her, returning to the back of the truck.

‘Wait until you’re done? You don’t understand. My ferry goes in minutes.’ When he ignored her, reaching inside the truck for another crate, Nell grabbed hold of his arm in frustration.

He wheeled around, looking pissed off. ‘Look, lady, go wait in your car, okay? I’ve got a job to do.’

‘Why are you being such an asshole? It would take you seconds to move your truck.’

‘Because those are the rules, so take your hand off me and stop giving me attitude.’

‘Is there a problem here?’

Nell glanced round to see a dark-haired man standing in the doorway that led to the back of the bar, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. Bar owner, she presumed, hoping she could reason with him to get the delivery guy to move his truck.

‘I need to get to the ferry port. My boat goes in five minutes and he won’t let me through.’

‘You do know it’s a private road?’

‘Yes, it’s a private road, we’ve covered that. And yeah, I know I shouldn’t be driving down here, but seriously, I have to be on this ferry, so a little understanding would be appreciated.’

She was getting snappy and could feel frustration bubbling over into anger, scared it could manifest itself into panic. This wasn’t helped by the laid-back stance of the new guy, who stood listening to her rant, shoulder against the door frame, one leg cocked and a lazy half-smile playing on his lips, which suggested she was amusing him.

‘You done?’ he asked, as she paused for breath.

‘What is wrong with you people? Are you seriously finding this funny? I can’t believe you’re going to make me miss my boat because you’re too damn pig-headed to move a stupid truck.’ Tears of frustration pricked at the backs of her eyes as her face and neck burned. Nell forced herself to focus on her breathing as the thud in her chest quickened.

The bar owner regarded her, the cocky smile on his face widening. Although his eyes remained on her, he addressed the truck driver when he spoke. ‘Fancy a coffee, Eddie? My shout.’

Eddie looked delighted and set down the crate he had unloaded.

‘Sure thing.’ He tipped his hat at Nell as he passed her, a broad smirk on his face.

‘You’re just going to leave the truck here?’ Nell was talking to the backs of their heads as they disappeared into the bar. ‘That’s great. Nice one. Thanks for nothing. Assholes,’ she yelled after them.

With no target for her anger she kicked the front wheel of her Ford harder than intended, wincing when pain shot up her foot. There was no way she was going to make the boat. The bank would be closed when she arrived and she had no money left to buy groceries. Her heart was racing; the tightening in her chest when it came was sudden and hard, sucking the air out of her lungs.

Oh dear God, not now.

As the vice grip crushed her chest, the trembling started. Her legs too rubbery to stand, Nell sank to the floor beside the car, gripped her knees tightly and forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply through her nose. ‘One-hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…’ Sweat beaded on her forehead and under her arms as she struggled to control her breathing. She continued to count backwards.

Focus, O’Connor.

‘Eighty-six, eighty-five, eight-four…’

She sat like that for close to ten minutes, until the attack passed, aware that she had missed her ferry, and just relieved the street remained empty. Defeated and physically drained, she got into the car and fired up the engine. Michael and Newt were out of town and not back until the weekend. She wished she’d asked for a spare key, instead of insisting she would go straight to the house.

Suck it up, O’Connor. This is just for one night.

Before Caleb she had been happy and confident, embracing each new opportunity, wanting to experience life to the fullest. He had taken those things from her and she had let him.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You did it, you left him, and you will get your life back.

As she drove, Nell re-evaluated her mental checklist. The bank was now off the list, so were the groceries. She would call her realtor from the ferry. Chances were they too would be closed by the time she arrived on the island, so she would make arrangements for the key to be left at the house. It was all going to work out.

Caleb, Chicago, it was all behind her. Purity Island was her past and her fresh start all rolled into one. It was time to regroup and start over.

You can do this.

There had been rumours she was coming back to the island, so it shouldn’t have shocked him when he saw her in the driveway struggling to get an oversized suitcase out of the trunk of a beat-up Ford. He slowed his car and took a moment to study her as she thumped the case down on the driveway and slammed the trunk shut. She was dressed simply in a dark sweater and jeans that hugged her long slim legs, blonde ringlets escaping from her ponytail. He’d heard she was an artist, something of a big deal, but nothing about her screamed money. Certainly not the car she was driving or the way she was dressed.

He watched her drag her luggage up the driveway, rummage around under a plant pot for the key that had been left for her, and then she was stepping inside the dark house, out of his sight, leaving him with an unsettled feeling. Her return brought up too many questions and although he tried to reassure himself it wouldn’t be a problem, things were now out of his hands, and it bothered him.

It’s going to be okay. Let sleeping dogs lie. She’s none the wiser. The past was the past and Nell O’Connor’s return wouldn’t disturb anything. But he would keep a close eye on her, just to be sure.

2

Despite being exhausted, Nell barely slept. It didn’t help that her stomach kept growling with hunger and, although she had wolfed down half a melted candy bar she’d found in the side pocket of her suitcase, it did little to abate the cravings for food. Luckily, she had contacted the utility companies ahead of her arrival, so at least she had running water and electricity. After a long shower and a glass of tap water she’d flopped onto the bed in what had once been her room, hoping for sleep. It came in fits and starts, the musty odour of the bedlinen, which hadn’t been aired in a while, clogging her nostrils, while dreams of the past and the present collided uncomfortably. Finally she drifted off a couple of hours before sunrise, awaking to the sound of birds twittering and beams of light cutting across the bedroom walls. Although she wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, she forced herself up, knowing that wasn’t an option. Today she was going to be busy, there was no time for self-pity. She showered again, dressed quickly and checked her cell phone, annoyed at the flutter of fear in her belly when she spotted the missed calls and texts.

Caleb.

She had known he wouldn’t give up quietly and he had threatened her on enough occasions with what would happen if she ever tried to leave him. She left the phone on silent and slipped it into her purse. First stop was the bank, then she would treat herself to breakfast. Her empty belly was screaming for food and a good cup of coffee.

As she made her way over to the Sizzling Griddle, her mouth was watering at the thought of eggs and bacon. She had spotted the place when parking up outside the bank, standing where one of the old convenience stores had once been.

‘Nell O’Connor! Is that you?’

Nell recognised Antonia Richardson as she darted out from behind the counter of the diner to greet her. Her old friend had a few extra lines on her face and her once-naturally brunette hair had been highlighted to ash blonde, but otherwise she hadn’t changed a bit.

‘My God, it is you! I heard you may be moving to Purity. How the devil are you?’

‘It’s good to see you, Antonia.’ Nell took a self-conscious step back when the woman went to embrace her, but it went unnoticed as Antonia grabbed her in a bear hug. She glanced around the diner. Half a dozen booths were occupied and a couple of the occupants were watching in interest, but most continued with their morning conversation.

‘When did you arrive on the island?’

‘Late last night,’ Nell told her, freeing herself from the other woman’s arms.

‘I was so sorry about your Aunt Bella and Clarke. It was a shock to us all.’

‘Thanks.’

‘She’d be pleased knowing you were back.’

‘I hope so. How are you doing?’

A loaded question, given Antonia had always had verbal diarrhoea, but it was polite to ask and Nell was keen to change the subject. The pair of them had gone to school together until Nell and her mother had moved away, but they’d kept in touch and hung out during the summers Nell spent with Bella. She nodded and smiled as her old friend updated her on her marriage and divorce, telling her she now owned the diner. The smell of food wafting through from the kitchen was almost too much and as Antonia paused for breath, Nell’s belly made an embarrassing grumble. She smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.’

‘Oh, you poor thing!’

Antonia ushered her to a table, before disappearing. She returned moments later with a pot of coffee and a notepad to take Nell’s order. Nell quickly scanned the menu. ‘I’ll have eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns and toast please. Oh, and a side of pancakes with maple syrup.’ It was greedy, but she didn’t care.

Antonia gave her a wide smile. ‘Coming right up.’

Alone with her thoughts, Nell poured cream into her coffee and took a sip. It was the first cup she’d had in over twenty-four hours and it hit the spot. The old-fashioned bell above the door rang as it opened inwards and she briefly glanced up at the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who had his back to her, recognising the Purity Island Police Department navy blazer. She took another sip of coffee and, disinterested, closed her eyes.

‘Morning, Chief. You want your coffee to go?’ Antonia shouted through from the kitchen.

‘Thanks, Antonia, and fix a cup for Tommy too. He had a busy night.’

‘Coming right up.’

Something in the man’s tone sounded familiar. Nell cocked open an eye. She could see him, his back still to her, making small talk with a couple of patrons who sat near the door. As Antonia came through from the kitchen he turned, affording Nell a side view of his profile: his slightly hooked nose, wavy dark brown hair and stubbled jaw. Her heart went into her mouth as she recognised him as the bar owner who had caused her to miss her ferry. Except he wasn’t a bar owner apparently; he was the goddamn chief of police.

Anger bubbled, quickly washed down with embarrassment, as she recalled the encounter. Now, in the cold light of day when she was thinking rationally, she could see she had been clearly in the wrong. He was still an asshole but, she guessed, she had behaved like one too. Feeling contrite, Nell picked up the menu and slipped down in her seat, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She listened to him talking for another couple of minutes, thanking Antonia for the coffee. As he turned to go, she peeked over the menu, accidentally making eye contact with him as he glanced in her direction. The corners of his lips curved as he recognised her.

‘I see you made the ferry okay.’

Nell felt her cheeks flame. ‘Yes, I did… Eventually.’ She forced the words out, wanting the ground to swallow her up.

Just go. Please.

He nodded, amused by her obvious embarrassment, and studied her for a moment, his green eyes intent. She thought he was going to say something else, maybe lecture her for driving down a private road, but instead his grin widened before his attention turned elsewhere. Nell watched from behind her menu as he bid farewell to the customers he’d been talking to and left the diner.

‘Isn’t he a sweetheart?’ Antonia swooned as she arrived with Nell’s food. She set down the plates and poured Nell fresh coffee. ‘We lucked out when he decided to move to the island.’

He was a mainlander. That figured. ‘What happened to Chief Bristow?’ Nell asked, trying her best to sound disinterested as she busied herself unfolding her napkin and shaking salt onto her eggs.

‘Oh, he retired about six years back. Chief Cutler transferred over from Portland. I think he enjoys the island life.’

‘That so?’ Nell speared a piece of bacon with her fork. Her encounter with the police chief had put a brief dent in her appetite, but now the food was in front of her she remembered she was ravenous. ‘Shame, I always liked Chief Bristow.’

She finished her breakfast in relative peace, Antonia having other customers to attend. Her belly full and her brain more alert following three cups of coffee, Nell tipped generously and made her way across to the island’s main grocery store, where she stocked up on supplies, before heading back to Aunt Bella’s house. She supposed she should stop referring to it as Aunt Bella’s, as technically it was now hers. Bella had passed away from a stroke at the start of the year followed by her only child, and Nell’s cousin, Clarke, who died weeks later in a tragic accident. Guilt crept in, knowing she hadn’t made it back for either of their funerals. After she moved from Purity, she had returned every summer to stay with Bella. She should have come home for them. Of course it was easy to say that, now she had left Caleb. In truth, he hadn’t given her a choice and deep down she knew Bella’s death had been the catalyst for leaving him: the point where revulsion for the woman she had let herself become overtook fear of the consequences.

Monday started the same as any other day.

She generally rose before Caleb, keen to be out of the bed they shared before he awoke. Their house ran on routine, with Caleb liking everything to be a specific way, while Nell functioned like a robot, trying to ensure the whole thing ran as smoothly as possible so she could get him to work and out of the way. Today, it was more important than ever that things went to plan.

After he had left for the office, she was going to leave him.

Everything was in place, she’d run through the details hundreds of times. All she needed to do was be patient, to be compliant, this one last time, and she would be free. Finally.

She walked on eggshells around him constantly, but this morning she was particularly jittery and when she heard him stir, get out of bed and turn on the shower, her heart almost leapt into her mouth.

Pull yourself together, O’Connor. Act natural.

Although she tried, focusing her mind on mundane tasks, fixing his coffee just the way he liked it, pouring out his OJ and scrambling eggs, her hands shook and her legs threatened to buckle under her.

She drew a few deep breaths, setting out cutlery, ensuring each utensil was polished till it shined. All the time his plate was warming in the oven, because one thing Caleb would not tolerate was a cold plate. When he stepped into the kitchen she offered her cheek, her skin crawling at the touch of his lips, and forced a smile.

‘Did you sleep well?’ She forced herself to ask the question.

‘I think I’m coming down with a cold. My chest’s congested and I have a sore throat.’ Although he was wearing one of his work suits, he loosened his tie. ‘Think I have a temperature. Do you think I have a temperature?’ He grabbed her hand, pressed it to his head, bottom lip sneering as he stared at her. ‘Why are you shaking? You’re not about to have one of your dumb fits, are you?’

Nell swallowed hard. ‘I’m fine. I’m just cold. Do you want me to get you some Tylenol?’

‘I’m wondering if I should take the day off, stay home and get some rest.’

Please God no, don’t do that!

‘Why don’t you have your coffee and something to eat? It might make you feel better.’

He caught her wrist hard and sudden, eyes narrowing. ‘What, you trying to get rid of me?’

Nell’s bowels knotted, her skin growing clammy. ‘Of course not, I just know we have your mother’s benefit tonight and how disappointed you’ll be if you’re too ill to go.’

Caleb stared at her for a moment before releasing her.

‘I suppose I should go in. It wouldn’t look good if I have to reschedule meetings and then I’m seen at the benefit.’ He picked up his coffee cup and sat down at the table as Nell busied herself finishing breakfast. ‘Wear the black lace dress, the one with the low back. And make sure you straighten your hair.’

‘Of course, Caleb.’

He caught her hand and glanced disapprovingly at her gnawed nails.

‘Do you have a manicure today?’

‘Yes.’ It was a lie, but she needed him out of the house.

‘Good. Your nails are an embarrassment.’

It was forty minutes later when she eventually got him out of the house. She waited impatiently, peering out of the upstairs window, watching until his car had turned out of the street. Her shoulders tense, her mouth dry, she moved quickly, getting her suitcase out of the cupboard and filling it with the things she planned to take.

She had never told Caleb that she’d inherited her aunt’s house. He knew she had lived with her mom in a small town in Ohio, that her dad had left when she was young, but nothing of her life before. Purity was her sanctuary and in some small way she wondered if her decision to keep her early life private was self-conscious, that perhaps a small part of her had always known this day would eventually come. She had taken the call learning of her inheritance a couple of months after Bella and Clarke had passed, sitting on the news for days, knowing she should tell him, aware there would be terrible consequences if he ever found out that she had kept a secret from him. Her initial instinct had been to put the house on the market and, eventually, she had, aware the money from the sale would give her choices, would help if she ever managed to pluck up the courage to leave him. But as the weeks passed the idea of returning to Purity grew in its appeal and eventually she’d contacted the realtor and removed the house from sale. It took her two weeks of deliberating and plotting, then a further week to pluck up the courage to call her brother and ask for his help. She opened an account with the island’s bank, squirrelling money away until she had enough to fund her plan.

Finally had come the task of picking a time to leave. That had been the hardest, and she had put it off for a couple of weeks, terrified Caleb would catch her in the act. Then Saturday night he had been in a randy mood, crawling on top of her as she feigned sleep. They didn’t have sex much these days and he had caught her off guard. As she tried to fake enjoyment, feeling sick as he thrust and grunted on top of her, Nell knew she couldn’t take this anymore. After he had collapsed into sleep beside her she had known: it was now or never.

Her heavy case packed and sitting in the hallway, she called a cab. While she waited for it to arrive, she went online and booked a one-way plane ticket to San Francisco, using a card she knew he had access to. Her old college roommate Rosie lived in California and she hoped he would assume that was where she had gone. Ready to leave, she watched anxiously out of the window for the cab, panic balling in the pit of her stomach when she saw a shiny red Porsche heading slowly up the street towards the house.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s come home.

She was shaking, but before she could think what to do, the car had passed; a dark-haired woman was at the wheel. Minutes later her cab pulled up on the sidewalk out front. Her shaking didn’t ease until the house disappeared from view, but even then her nerves were still shot, her shoulders tense. She asked the driver to drop her at a used car place on the outskirts of the city, where she paid cash for the Ford. As she drove out of the lot, heading east, she drew a deep breath. This was her one shot, her one chance to get away. She just hoped to hell she could pull it off.

Bella’s guesthouse was situated on the clifftop, three-quarters of a mile from the centre of town. It was smaller than the two hotels on the island, but had always been full over the summer months. In later years, as her aunt’s health had failed, the business had closed down and Nell felt a pang of nostalgia as she looked at the old house, awash with the September sun, its white timber framework in stark contrast against the cloudless blue sky. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed the place. There was no denying it was run down, with Bella unable to either carry out or afford the necessary repairs, so Nell knew her nostalgia was tinged with guilt. Her aunt had looked after her every summer – she should have been here to return the favour.

Of course, Caleb hadn’t been the only one keeping her away from Purity. The place had changed for Nell the night her best friend had died. Lizzie had stepped in at the last minute to cover Nell’s babysitting gig at the Dolans’ house so Nell could hook up with Cory Spellman. There had been a break-in. Mr Dolan’s younger brother, Roy, had been somehow involved and was found dead at the scene; his accomplice had killed Lizzie and fled. Poor little Tommy had watched it happen, but had never been able to ID the murderer.

It wasn’t Nell’s fault, but she still felt responsible. If she had babysat, Lizzie would still be here. There was no changing that and it was something she