The building is cold, despite the summer sunshine outside. It has the chill of somewhere not inhabited. The damp of no body heat, no warm breath. But that’s an illusion, because sitting in one corner, among the empty cans of Coke, the half-eaten burger and the bag of sanitary towels, there’s a girl. She’s leaning against the wall, a jacket wrapped around her like a blanket. The jacket is navy. Quilted.
The door opens slowly and now someone is standing there, the face in shadow against the sudden glare of sunlight behind.
Tricia tries to get up, but grimaces. She’s clearly in pain.
Vicky looks at her. ‘They said you were losing the baby.’
‘Yeah, well, the sooner I got rid of it the better. I only got pregnant because I wanted Rob. I didn’t want the bloody kid . Just my luck the sad bastard was firing blanks.’
Vicky says nothing.
‘What did you tell them?’ says Tricia. ‘The police?’
‘Nothing. They don’t know I’m here. I got bail.’
‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘I know how you think. I know you . The real you. Better than anyone.’
Tricia sneers. ‘But all those people, they don’t know you , do they, Vicky? You lied to them.’
‘So did you. And you lied to me. I nearly died because of what you did. I would have died.’
Vicky closes the door behind her with a sudden bang; the sheets of newspaper on the floor shift in the gust.
‘That Inspector – Fawley. He showed me what they found on your phone. Those websites you were looking at. About claiming the money.’
Tricia shifts her position a little. ‘Yeah, well, we needed to start working out what we were going to do, didn’t we?’
‘But it wasn’t we , was it?’ Vicky’s lips are trembling but there is something fierce and unforgiving in her eyes. ‘It was just you . It wasn’t just looking at stuff on the internet either – you emailed a law firm. You said you wanted to know how much you’d get if you sued someone for killing your sister .’
There’s a silence.
‘It wasn’t a mistake, was it, Tricia? You wanted me dead. And you were going to say Harper did it.’
They stare at each other. Openly hostile.
‘Where is it?’ says Vicky, her voice hard now.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know damn well what I’m talking about. Hand it over.’
Tricia’s eyes narrow. ‘Why the hell should I?’
‘Just give it to me and I’m out of here and you can go. Or –’
‘Or? ’
The question hangs in the air.
Unanswered.
There’s a wonderful group of people now on ‘team Fawley’, all of whom have helped me make, shape and refine this novel. Most notably my fabulous, patient and supportive agent, Anna Power, and my two editors at Penguin – the equally delightful and insightful Katy Loftus and Sarah Stein. I also want to thank my fantastic PR teams, both in the UK – Poppy North, Rose Poole and Annie Hollands – and in the US – Ben Petrone and Shannon Kelly.
I also want to say a very big thank you to my expert advisers – Joey Giddings, CSI extraordinaire, who also drew up the crime scene sketches on pages 45–6; Nicholas Syfret QC for his advice on the legal side; and Detective Inspector Andy Thompson for invaluable help on police procedure. Also Dr Ann Robinson and Nikki Ralph. I have tried to make the story as accurate as possible, but as in all works of fiction there are a few places where I have exercised a degree of artistic licence. For example, the procedures involved in questioning vulnerable adults are very complex, and I do not pretend to have captured every single detail 100 per cent. Needless to say, if there are any errors or inaccuracies these are down to me alone.
Thanks too to my ‘first readers’ – my husband, Simon, and my dear friends Stephen, Elizabeth, Sarah and Peter. And also to my superb copy editor, Karen Whitlock.
And finally it seems odd to thank a city, but I couldn’t have written this book without drawing on the special ‘genius of the place’ of Oxford. It’s an endlessly inspiring and surprising town, and I’m very lucky to live there. However, needless to say, my characters are entirely the products of my imagination, and not based on any real individuals. Many of the places are my inventions too, though some are not. The Wittenham Clumps are real, as are the Cuckoo Pen, the Money Pit and the legend of the raven. The Iron Age remains of a man, a child and part of a dismembered female have indeed been discovered at the Clumps in recent years, and one theory is that the female was part of a human sacrifice. But there has never, to my knowledge, been a proposal to build a housing estate in the area.
PENGUIN BOOKS
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First published in Penguin Books (UK) 2018
Published in Penguin Books (USA) 2019
Copyright © 2018 by Cara Hunter
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Names: Hunter, Cara, author.
Title: In the dark / Cara Hunter.
Description: New York : Penguin Books, 2019. | Series: DI Adam Fawley ; 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2018037216 (print) | LCCN 2018038983 (ebook) | ISBN 9781524704858 (ebook) | ISBN 9780143131069 (paperback)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Suspense. | FICTION / Mystery Detective / Police Procedural. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PR6108.U588 (ebook) | LCC PR6108.U588 I5 2019 (print) | DDC 823/.92—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018037216
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design: Jaya Miceli
Cover photograph: Danielle Kiemel / Getty Images
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