Don’t Look Behind You

A dark, twisting crime thriller

Mel Sherratt

Books by Mel Sherratt

The Life She Wants

Ten Days

Detective Eden Berrisford Crime Thriller Series

The Girls Next Door

Don’t Look Behind You

The Detective Allie Shenton Series

Taunting the Dead

Follow the Leader

Only the Brave

The DS Grace Allendale Series

Hush Hush

Tick Tock

Liar Liar

Good Girl

The Estate Series

Somewhere to Hide

Behind a Closed Door

Fighting for Survival

Written in the Scars

The Lies You Tell

Watching over You

To Martina Cole and Lynda la Plante

Two strong women who inspired me to write with true passion

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Twenty-One Years Ago

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Twenty-One Years Ago

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Nineteen Years Ago

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Eighteen Years Ago

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Thirteen Years Ago

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Twelve Years Ago

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Seven Years Ago

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Nine Years Ago

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Ten Years Ago

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Epilogue

The Girls Next Door

Mel’s Email Sign Up

Books by Mel Sherratt

A Letter from Mel

The Life She Wants

Ten Days

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Carla Gregory left home early that morning to journey to Liverpool. Travelling from Stockleigh, she caught a connecting train from Crewe. Gazing out of the windows as the train made its fifty-minute journey, she almost wished she was moving home again as she spied the views.

It was the first week of the new year and 2017 was going to be a challenge from the get-go. She could see the water-clogged fields, the recent snowfall having melted. In the distance, white patches still covered the hills. The view brought a lump to her throat. Her daughter would have loved it.

Carla hadn’t set foot in Liverpool for twelve months, yet she’d spent years of her married life there. It was the first time she’d been able to pluck up the courage to come back to the area and visit Chloe. Ryan, her husband, had just recently come out of prison, and it was the one place he knew she would be. But she couldn’t not visit today.

She hadn’t wanted to leave Liverpool – circumstances had forced her – and, even though she knew she was safer in a small city, she often wondered if she’d be better in a country village like the ones she glanced in the passing scenery. But living among lots of people versus living in isolation at the end of a country lane always won hands down. She had to blend in rather than hide away.

Once off the train, she walked the twenty minutes to her destination, slaloming through the crowds until they thinned. She pulled in the collar of her coat – pushing her scarf further up her neck – and braced herself as an icy wind sliced through her. Keeping a watchful eye, she scanned every person walking ahead, every car going past as she marched down the pavement. Her hands were thrust in her pockets to stop them from shaking.

Up above she could see the large black wrought-iron gates, a grand entrance fit for a final resting place. It was 11.30 a.m. Several people milled around as she passed through the gates of the cemetery. A man in the distance walking his dog – too old. A woman with a pushchair sitting on a bench – no man with her. A man and a woman in their early twenties, arms around each other standing over a grave. That couldn’t be him.

Even though her senses needed to be on full alert, Carla felt a calmness about her as she walked. It was peaceful in the cemetery, but still she wasn’t going to hang around for any longer than necessary.

At the fifteenth row, she turned right and made her way along to the ninth plot. Even after ten years, it still pained her to see her daughter’s grave. Sad thoughts that she could never watch Chloe grow up, have a career, be married, see her as a mother. Selfish thoughts that she had missed out on so much, would never have grandchildren, see her daughter flourish.

As the wind played with her long blonde hair, Carla shivered. Would she ever be rid of Ryan’s ghost? She glanced around again, her eyes darting everywhere, looking behind trees, in-between the gravestones and along the pathways. She stopped and bowed her head for a moment but quickly brought her eyes up again. He could be anywhere, and she had to keep a lookout for him at all times.

‘Happy birthday, my beautiful angel,’ Carla said in a whisper that was taken away in the breeze. She cleared her throat, trying to remove the lump in it. ‘I can’t believe how grown up you are. Eighteen years old today.’

The circular framed photo of a smiling eight-year-old was on the top-right corner of the black marble headstone. She had been a beautiful baby, always being admired when she was out in her pushchair and, despite their home life, Chloe had grown into an affectionate and loving little girl. She made friends easily at school and always aimed to please everyone.

Blonde plaits hung either side of her face, red ribbons holding them together at the bottom. The eyes of her father stared back at Carla, but, while his were dark with nastiness, Chloe’s were a deep sapphire blue, full of sparkly excitement. The sharp framing cheekbones and her smile belonged to Carla.

To the outside world, the smile had been there for most of Chloe’s young life. Only Carla knew how it would drop almost as much as the temperature inside the house the moment her daddy came home.

She glanced around again, remembering the last thing Chloe had said to her. It had been an hour before the accident. Carla had tucked her up in bed with her favourite teddy bear and kissed her forehead, but as she stood up to leave, Chloe had reached for her hand.

‘Be strong, Mummy,’ Chloe had said, grasping it tightly. ‘I will always be here to watch over you.’

Carla had turned away quickly so that Chloe wouldn’t see her tears. What had her daughter heard or witnessed throughout the years to say that to her? How must she have felt seeing her daddy hitting her mummy and saying nasty things to her all the time? They’d tried to keep their problems hidden, but even so, no one really knew how being brought up with violence affected a child until it was too late.

Carla thought about Chloe’s final words on the day her life had changed immeasurably. Would she be watching over her today? She liked to think so.

In the distance she saw a car approaching. She pressed her fingers to her lips and then placed them on the top of the gravestone.

‘Goodbye, my angel,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep tight.’

A man got out of the driver’s seat. He wore a long dark overcoat, with a black woollen hat and scarf covering most of his face and hair. But it was him, she was sure. Even after ten years, she’d recognise his stance anywhere. Carla ran to hide behind a tree.

Holding her breath as he walked down the path beside her, only a few metres away, she moved around the trunk to stay out of his vision, watching with fear as he stopped at Chloe’s grave.

For a good minute, he stood in silence with his head bowed in the exact spot she had just vacated. Then he lifted it and glanced around quickly before walking away. As he passed the tree, he stopped.

‘I know you’re there, Carla,’ he said.

Carla froze in her hiding place, glancing around for the best way to run if he came towards her. He wouldn’t attack her in such a public, nor sacred, place surely? She held her breath but then he continued on his way.

Carla shrank to her knees, clutching a hand to her mouth as nausea threatened to engulf her.

Ryan wanted her to know that he had seen her.

And so it all began again.