Louise Stone - Never Out of Sight - The chilling psychological thriller you don’t want to miss!

A daughter’s secret. A mother’s betrayal.

Every mother knows never to let their child out of their sight. But Freya has been distracted recently, and now her teenage daughter, Zoe, is missing.

Freya knows that the only way to bring Zoe back is to tell the truth, but when your whole life is built on secrets and lies, the truth could destroy everything .

Surely there’s no harm in telling just one more little white lie?

A gripping psychological thriller, perfect for fans of Louise Jensen, Linda Green and Claire Seeber.

S is for Stranger

Never Out of Sight

Louise Stone

LOUISE STONE

worked as a teacher before turning her hand to fiction. She was brought up in Africa and the Middle East and then ‘as an adult’ travelled extensively before moving to London and finally settling in the Cotswolds with her partner, and now baby. When she’s not writing, you will find her scouring interior design magazines and shops, striving towards the distant dream of being a domestic goddess or having a glass of wine with country music turned up loud. As a child, she always had her nose in a book and, in particular, Nancy Drew. S is for Stranger , her first psychological suspense thriller, was shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize. She also writes women’s fiction under the pseudonym Lottie Phillips. Readers can find Louise Stone, otherwise known as Charlie Phillips, on Twitter @writercharlie or at www.writercharlie.com

A huge thank you to Charlotte Mursell, my editor, for her belief in me and for her wonderful guidance.

To the entire team at HQ who are all incredibly talented.

My parents for their enduring support and endless cups of tea!

Jon and Finn: you make the sweat and tears worth it!

To Jon and Finn, with love

I would my soul were like the bird

That dares the vastness undeterred.

‘The Daring One’, Edwin Markham

The Gates of Paradise and Other Poems (1928)

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Extract

Endpages

Copyright

The fly buzzed around me, its incessant hum thundering loudly in my ear, but still I dared not move. My eyes wandered momentarily from the man standing in front of me – his lips glistening with saliva – to the window. The room was airless. I knew the fly would die. Sensing the hopelessness of the situation, it returned to the window, which was firmly shut, and slammed against the windowpane once more. The May sun shone brightly outside, lighting up the room, warming my office further. I noticed the dust dancing in the stale air, and returned my attention to the man.

‘You need to leave,’ I said.

My body had grown sticky, nervous energy emanating from my every pore. I slowly lifted my hand and placed a finger between my shirt collar and bare skin; I moved it back and forth, seeking relief from the starchy material.

He smiled knowingly at me. ‘You don’t want that.’

I dropped my hand, laid it on my thigh and willed my leg to stop shaking. ‘This isn’t right.’

He reached behind him, felt for the key, and turned it in the lock. Click. His gaze remained on me. ‘You don’t really want this to end, Freya. We have plans, don’t we?’

I gave a small shake of my head. However, knowing I needed to be clear, I shook my head again, with greater force. ‘Robert, I have never wanted this. Any of this.’

I had reverted to the tone I used in lectures. Matter-of-fact.

He walked to the edge of the sofa and sat, crossing his long, muscular legs. I wished he wouldn’t sit there. Not like this. Only an hour ago, he had sat in the same position, his large frame filling the room, laughing loudly at a joke our colleague had made about Henry the Eighth.

I knew I had to end it all. It was wrong.

He leant back against the cushions and I noticed the way his shorts rode up. I knew I shouldn’t look, that it would only make matters worse. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as the shorts crept up his tanned skin. Forcing myself to swallow, I tried to forget how good his skin had felt. He pushed his T-shirt sleeve up. Then, I saw it. I gasped.

A wry smile spread across his face. ‘You remember?’

I nodded.

‘I knew you’d like it.’ His hand rubbed the area where the new tattoo prickled angrily. ‘I had it done yesterday.’ He laughed. ‘The guy asked me why I wanted it. Told me he’d done a few Latin quotes before. All the normal ones: “Seize the day” and all that.’ He grew serious. ‘It’s right, isn’t it? The Latin, I mean.’

My throat had closed up, my mouth cotton-dry. ‘The kiss of death.’ I looked away, concentrating on the fly once more. ‘It means the kiss of death.’ I eyed the glass of water on my desk, yearned to drink from it.

‘That’s what you said to me. That night. You said kissing me was the kiss of death.’

My breathing had started to quicken, my head reeling. I needed air.

He rose from the sofa and edged towards me, stopping a foot short of my chair. ‘Freya, you called it that because you want this. You need this. We both need this. I’ve fallen in love with you. Madly, deeply in love with you.’

I gave a sharp shake to my head. ‘No, I called it that because I can’t have a relationship with you. You’re my student… It’s unethical.’ I stopped, let out a long, shuddering breath.

He placed his finger under my chin and lifted my face, giving me no option but to stare into his eyes. They were a deep blue. But I already knew that.

‘You wanted it as much as I wanted it, that first time we kissed. I felt it.’ He smiled again: his ridiculous, youthful excitement shining through. ‘I felt you respond .’ He whispered this last word. I understood, now, what it meant when people claimed that it had only taken one second for their whole world to come crashing down around them. The moment Robert had walked into my office last September was that moment, but the attraction was too great. Lethal. Whenever I was with him, I felt an energy I hadn’t felt in years.

And Robert knew my weak point: he knew how much he brought me alive.

But it was now that I needed to take control. My voice, however, had left me. A deep-seated fear that I would never truly be able to push him away, when I knew I wanted him so badly, rose up within me. He made me feel good about myself; he made me feel like the young, exciting Freya I used to be.

‘Do you want to kiss me now?’

I shook my head vehemently but my eyes never left his. We both knew I was lying. ‘No.’

‘I know you’re fighting your real feelings.’ His words came out softly, gently, and I clamped my hands around the chair frame, fighting the urge to go to him. ‘You don’t really want this to be over. I know you don’t.’ His eyes glistened with tears, forcing the breath from my lungs.