Chapter 1
The first thing she sensed as she came into consciousness was a metallic taste in her mouth. It was quickly followed by a sudden, desperate thirst. Her eyes were still shut and for a minute she lay perfectly still. She had been dreaming of falling into a bottomless void, surrounded by infinite blackness. It had been a strange dream; terrifying and yet oddly soothing.
A chill teased goosebumps to her flesh. She shivered. Five more minutes, she thought. Five more minutes and I’ll get up. She felt herself drifting off once more. Felt herself falling again.
And then there was a voice, short and sharp in her ear. ‘It’s not a dream!’
Becky Briar opened her eyes. She blinked twice and groaned. It was still dark, the house silent. Craving more sleep, she tried to roll onto her side. And found that she couldn’t.
She shivered again and reached for her duvet. But it was gone.
She swallowed, then winced. Her throat felt like it was filled with broken glass.
Becky moaned. But then she noticed something. Her eyes had been open for at least thirty seconds now yet all she could still see was darkness. No familiar bedroom shapes. No shadows or silhouettes. Just impenetrable blackness.
Still half asleep, she reached for her phone on the bedside table. White hot pain shot from her fingers up to her skull.
Becky sat bolt upright and let out a strangled scream. Fresh pain attacked her body, forcing her back down.
I’m not in my bed, she thought. This is not my room. What is happening to me?
Panic came, quickly eclipsed by blind terror. She tried to move her left hand again and was rewarded with more agony. She waited for the nausea to pass then tried her right hand, fingers scrambling along the ground. It was cold and damp. Hard like concrete.
Trembling now, she pushed up on her right arm, rolled onto her knees, then got to her feet. Pain shot through her left ankle and up to her hip, exploding in a million white stars. This time the scream came easily, shattering the air.
A memory flashed before her eyes. A car parked under a streetlamp. Someone hiding in the shadows. A hand gripping a crowbar.
Becky pitched forwards, left arm dangling lifelessly behind. She stumbled, tripped, then lost her balance.
Her arms across her face. The crowbar swinging down. Pain, sweet and sharp. The ground, cold and wet. Light from above. A shadow cutting through it. The crowbar coming down again.
Becky fell. The ground rushed up to meet her, striking her in the head. As darkness took her once more, a single thought echoed in her mind.
Someone tried to kill me.
Chapter 2
They were staring at her. She was sure of it. Staring and whispering about the slight, blonde young woman sitting alone at the corner table. For twenty minutes now. Well, let them, she thought. There was nothing wrong with dining alone or enjoying a glass of wine in solitude. People did it all the time. Besides, she was twenty-two years old, a grown adult who could do as she pleased. So why did she feel so conspicuous?
Emily Swanson poured herself another half glass of Pinot Grigio as she watched the waiter circle her table and stare at the empty seats. He smiled, his expression somewhere between pity and impatience. Emily scowled until he sailed away again.
Despite the cold blast of the air conditioning, she felt her face heating up. Perhaps she should go ahead and order; her friends were sure to turn up soon. Or perhaps she should pay for her drink and leave, anything to escape the staring.
Undecided, Emily took a sip of wine and shrank further into her seat.
Someone was calling her name.
Across the restaurant, a hand flapped in her direction. Relief surged through Emily’s body, releasing the muscles. Well, it’s about time. Smiling, she waved back at the young woman with shoulder-length dark hair, who was now hurrying towards her.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I had to return the last of my library books and who should I bump into but Kerry-Anne Watkins. Christ, that girl has a mouth on her like an outboard motor! She wouldn’t let me go! I’m telling you, with a case of verbal diarrhoea that bad she seriously needs to reduce her fibre intake!’ Smiling and breathless, Charlotte Walsh sat down. ‘Anyway, I’m here now and I’m dying for a drink. How are you?’
‘Hungry.’ Emily handed her a menu and poured her a glass of wine. ‘Becky’s not with you?’
‘No, of course not. Did you honestly think she would come?’
‘She said she’d be here.’
Charlotte eyed the menu and shrugged a shoulder. ‘What Becky Briar says and does are rarely the same thing. Didn’t I tell you the very day she moved in? I said, “That girl isn’t interested in friendship. All she wants is a roof over her head.” God, why did Jane have to get pregnant? She was a damn slob but at least we didn’t have to creep around her drug-induced moods for months on end.’
‘But still, this is meant to be our last dinner together. An official farewell.’
‘All I’m saying is don’t hold your breath. Jesus, I will not miss that girl when I’m gone.’
Emily stared at the empty seat next to her. ‘What’s with all the blaspheming? If your father could hear you he’d have a heart attack.’
‘I’m getting it all out now before I go home next week. Then it’s back to the “butter-wouldn’t-melt, daughter of a priest’s life” for me.’
‘You don’t have to go back, you know,’ Emily said, glancing around the room. ‘There’s a whole world out there.’
‘Says the country bumpkin. And I do have to go home. I’m all Dad’s got. He would never admit it but he’s been struggling since I’ve been away.’
Emily’s gaze moved to Charlotte’s neck. Something was missing.
‘Your crucifix,’ she said.
Charlotte’s hand reached to the space between her collarbones. She smiled, but just for a moment. ‘Controversial, isn’t it? I figured university is over, it’s the start of a new era, so why not start with a new me.’
‘But it was your mother’s.’
‘I know, but I’ve decided my memories of her should be treasured, not worn around my neck like a stone. I’ve made a memory box. It’ll be safe in there. It’s strange, but I feel lighter without it.’ Charlotte’s eyes had become wet and glossy. ‘Speaking of new eras, I can’t believe you’re going to be a teacher. It’s amazing, Emily! Think of all those young lives you’ll be helping to shape. And I’m going to be a historian!’
‘What exactly does a historian do?’
‘I’m not sure. Hang out at libraries? Drink lots of tea.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Have you decided about Principal Talbot’s offer? Or has your mother finally guilt-tripped you into returning home?’
Emily slumped in her seat. She didn’t want to think about her mother, who’d already called twice today. ‘Let’s order food.’
‘You’re running out of time, you know.’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’ She stared at the menu and her shoulders sagged. With so many dishes to choose from, how did you know if you were picking the best one? She felt the same about Principal Talbot’s job offer. And just about any other choice she had to make.
The waiter came over. ‘Are you waiting for someone else?’
Emily’s eyes drifted to the empty seat and she shook her head.
Charlotte ordered first. Emily stumbled and stammered, then blushed as she picked a dish at random—rice and fish in some sort of marinade. When the waiter had left them, she took out her phone.
Charlotte arched an eyebrow. ‘Phones at the dinner table? Really?’
‘I’m going to call Becky. She should be here.’
As Emily waited for the line to connect, her mind wandered back to yesterday morning. Becky had been sullen as usual and half awake, but she’d promised to come for what would be their last dinner together as housemates.
A thought struck her: she hadn’t heard Becky come home last night. Which was unusual because recently, Becky had been going out every night and returning home in the early hours, waking Emily every time with a slam of the front door and the stomp of her feet on the stairs.
The phone rang for a long time then connected to voicemail. Emily hung up without leaving a message.
‘When did you last see Becky?’ she asked Charlotte, who was busy devouring a bread stick.
Charlotte shrugged a shoulder. ‘Sunday. Maybe.’
‘You didn’t see her last night?’
‘Nope. I came home around nine. You were in your room, and I assumed Becky was either in hers or at the campus bar. Those are the two places you can usually find her.’ Charlotte paused. ‘What are you thinking?’
Emily shook her head and turned away, watching a middle-aged couple two tables over as they laughed and chatted over dinner.
‘Becky’s not here because she doesn’t want to be,’ Charlotte said, leaning forwards. ‘She doesn’t give a shit about you or me. Besides, I bet she’s getting coked up somewhere. Probably giving blow jobs in exchange for lines.’
‘Hey, that’s not nice.’
‘No, it’s not. But it doesn’t mean it’s not true.’
Staring at the empty seat, Emily heaved her shoulders. It wasn’t as if Becky ever socialised with them anyway.
‘You’re probably right,’ she said, with a sigh. But an uneasy feeling had started to flutter in her stomach, and it grew stronger as the evening progressed.
