Girl A, Dan Scottow [best short books to read .TXT] 📗

With one last look up over her shoulder into the street above her, she slid the sash wide open, climbing inside. She had to push her way through some tatty curtains, drawn closed.

The room was pitch black.

She opened the curtains a crack, just enough to let in a little light. The place reeked of stale sweat and cigarettes. As her eyes grew more accustomed, she took in her surroundings. Seeing a switch on the wall opposite her, she flicked it on, filling the space in bright light.

Discarded beer bottles littered the floor beside an unmade bed. A bare duvet sat crumpled at the end of the mattress, which had no sheet on it. Spotted with yellow stains.

On a small side table sat a dog-eared photo of Wendy Noakes, with her husband, and Billy, on a beach somewhere. Billy was younger than when Beth had… found him.

A normal, carefree family. A family that Michael Noakes had never known. Beth felt a pang of sadness for him. Then she remembered what he had done to her and sympathy turned to rage.

In the photo, Wendy threw her head back in laughter. She was beautiful. Happy.

Doug Noakes ruffled Billy’s hair, staring down at him adoringly. Billy licked a Mr Whippy, splodges of ice cream all over his face. All three of them oblivious to the horror that lay ahead of them. Beth screwed her eyes up tight and shook away the dark thoughts that crept into her mind.

That was another life. That was not her.

She stepped out of the bedroom into a narrow hallway. The light spilled out, illuminating the laminated floor. At one end of the corridor was a spiral staircase. Daylight fell from upstairs, spilling into a mottled pattern of shadows across the walls.

She climbed the steps, her feet clunking on metal, blinking as the change in light dazzled her.

She found herself standing in a small dual-aspect kitchen which doubled up as a sitting room. The room ran the entire width of the property. One enormous bay window to the left of the front door looked out to the street, with privacy from a voile. The back end was entirely taken up by floor-to-ceiling glass, with bi-fold doors leading out to a tiny enclosed courtyard. A solitary deckchair sat in the centre of the yard, an overflowing ashtray beside it.

The kitchen was mostly pristine. Takeaway containers littered the worktop, but the appliances were unused. Mikey wasn’t one for cooking, it would appear. In fact, it didn’t look like he was one for anything. There was nothing in the room. Only a chair and a small table. No papers. No books. No handwritten evil plan. Beth didn’t know what she’d expected to find, but it wasn’t… this.

She sidestepped some containers on the floor, heading towards a door in the opposite wall. She reached for the handle, opening it. Stepping into the darkness, she pushed the door open further to allow more light inside. She flicked a switch beside her; bright white light flooded down from a fluorescent tube above her. She saw now it wasn’t a room at all. It was more like a cupboard.

Beth took in a sharp breath, as a feeling of horror washed over her. An old wooden chair sat in the middle, facing the back wall. But this wasn’t what alarmed Beth. The wall beyond it was covered with newspaper clippings. Hand-scrawled, angry notes. Photographs.

Photographs of Beth.

Of women who looked like Beth, question marks scribbled beside them, and names crossed out. Pictures of Charlie, Peter and Daisy. Cooper. Their house. Every single aspect of Beth’s life. Her Range Rover, her office.

Beth stepped closer to the wall, surveying the documentation of her life, playing out in front of her like a macabre comic strip. One photo showed her collecting Daisy from school, crouching down to envelope her in a hug. In another, the family were walking the dog in the field behind their house. Taken with a telephoto lens. Beth bit her lip as she tried to figure out where the person would have been standing. She concluded it had been snapped from the farm track at the end of the field.

As Beth’s eyes darted around the wall, taking in the photos, something occurred to her. Some of these pictures were old. Years old.

Taken long before Vicky or Mikey arrived on the scene. How the hell did he have these? It made no sense. Then it hit her.

He had been watching her for years.

Vicky hadn’t been lying. Michael Noakes had found her on his own. But how? Beth’s mind raced as she tried to figure it out. She had no social media, no pictures online. Nothing alluding to her actual identity anywhere. So how did Mikey manage to track her down?

She couldn’t think of any plausible explanation. She slammed her hand against the wall, cursing under her breath. Something caught her eye. A photo she hadn’t noticed earlier.

Daisy, Peter and Charlie. Coming out from Derek’s flat in town.

He had found them.

He knew where her kids were. She felt sick as the realisation set in.

Her family weren’t safe.

A muffled sound drew Beth’s attention away from her wall of fame. A cough. Close by. She poked her head out of the room, peering to her left down towards the front door. A key in the lock set her heart racing. Her eyes darted in panic around the room. The stairs were too far. She couldn’t risk getting caught. Instead, she stepped back into the cupboard, pulling the door behind her, flicking off the light. She heard someone enter the flat.

Footsteps on the wooden floor grew closer. Hurried.

He’d forgotten something.

Beth held her breath as she heard him opening cupboards, closing them again and swearing under his breath. There was nothing in this room, so Beth hoped she was safe for now. She hadn’t shut the door entirely and prayed that Mikey wouldn’t notice. Would he remember that it had been closed when he left? Beth would. But her paranoia about being discovered had