Jaime Raven - The Alibi - A gripping crime thriller full of secrets, lies and revenge

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2016

Copyright © Jaime Raven

Cover photographs © Getty Images

Cover design © Debbie Clement 2016

Jaime Raven asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008171490

Ebook Edition © December 2016 ISBN: 9780008171506

Version 2016-11-29

To Lyanne, Ellie and Jodie – my three wonderful daughters.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

‘Don’t look at me like that, you pathetic bitch. You brought this on yourself.’

The words fell out of his mouth on the back of a ragged breath.

Through the tears that blurred her vision, Megan Fuller watched him straighten up and step away from her. She wanted to plead for her life, to beg for forgiveness, but she couldn’t speak because her mouth was filled with blood and fragments of broken teeth.

She had never known pain like it, and it pulsed along every nerve in her body. From the demented look in his eyes she could tell that he had completely lost it. The red mist had consumed him. He was in the grip of a dark rage, and not for the first time. She’d seen it happen before and had likened it then to someone being possessed by the devil.

He gave her a look of sneering contempt as he stared down at her, his face tense, jaw locked, blue veins standing out on his neck.

‘I warned you,’ he yelled. ‘It didn’t have to be like this.’

Every molecule in her body was screaming, and hot tears spilled from her eyes.

She should never have let him in. It had been the mother of all mistakes. He was fired up before stepping over the threshold, intent on making her regret what she had threatened to do to him.

After slamming the front door behind him, he had launched into a furious rant, accusing her of being a money-grabbing whore. She had tried to calm him down by offering to make him a cup of tea.

But it wasn’t tea he was after. He wanted her to tell him that she was backing down and that he didn’t have to worry. But her refusal to do so had wound him up to the point where he’d snapped.

He’d smashed his fist into her face. Not once but twice. The first blow struck her mouth and stopped her from screaming. The second blow broke her nose and sent her sprawling backwards onto the kitchen floor.

Now she was at his mercy, unable to cry out as she watched him reach towards the knife block on the worktop. He withdrew the one she used for cutting vegetables. The sight of it paralysed her with fear.

‘You were a fool to think I’d let you get away with it, Megan. The others might cave in, but I fucking won’t.’

His voice was high-pitched and filled with menace, and his chest expanded alarmingly with every breath.

Panic seized her, and she tried to push herself up, but he responded by stamping on her right arm.

There was no stopping him now, she realised. Even if she could talk he was too far gone to listen to reason.

‘You’ve always been a frigging liberty taker,’ he fumed. ‘But now you’ve overstepped the mark big time.’

The knife was above her now, and as he squeezed the steel handle the blood retreated from his knuckles.

She tried again to scream but it snagged in her throat and suddenly she couldn’t even draw breath.

At the same time he lowered himself until his knee was pressed into her chest and his weight was threatening to crush her breastbone.

Face clenched with murderous fury, he moved his hand so that the tip of the knife was pressed against her windpipe. She could actually feel the adrenalin fizzing through her veins like a bolt of electricity.

A voice in her head was pleading with a God she had never believed in.

Please don’t let him do it.

Please make him see sense.

She managed to swallow back the blood in her mouth and let out a strangled sob. But that was about all she could do.

‘I can’t let you live, Megan,’ he said, and the harsh odour of his breath caused her nostrils to flare. ‘I realise that now. If I do I know you’ll make it your business to destroy me.’

She arched her body, desperate to throw him off, but he was too heavy and too determined.

Suddenly all hope took flight and she felt herself go limp.

Then she closed her eyes because she couldn’t bear to look at his face as he plunged the knife into her throat.

Beth Chambers

I jolted awake to the sound of my mother’s voice and the earthy aroma of instant coffee.

‘You need to get up,’ she said. ‘The paper phoned and they want you to call them back straight away.’

I forced my eyes open and felt a throbbing pain at the base of my skull, made worse by the harsh sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ I groaned.

‘Let me guess,’ my mother said, placing a mug on the bedside table. ‘You’ve got a hangover.’

I rolled on my side, squinted at the flickering numbers on the digital clock.

‘Bloody hell, Mum. It’s only half eight.’

‘That’s right,’ she said, her tone disapproving. ‘It’s also Saturday – one of only two days in the week when Bethany Chambers gets to spend quality time with her daughter.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ I said. ‘Is she still in bed?’

‘You must be joking. She’s been up for an hour. I’ve washed and dressed her and she’s having breakfast. She thinks you’re taking her to the park.’