I Dare You Read online

  I DARE YOU

  Sam Carrington

  Copyright

  Published by AVON

  A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

  Copyright © Sam Carrington 2019

  Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

  Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

  Sam Carrington 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 ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, 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: 9780008331375

  Ebook Edition © December 2019 ISBN: 9780008331382

  Version: 2019-10-18

  PRAISE FOR SAM CARRINGTON

  ‘Sam Carrington has done it again. One Little Lie is a twisty, gripping read. I loved it.’

  Cass Green, bestselling author of In a Cottage In a Wood

  ‘Expertly written … with plentiful twists and unforgettable characters. An insightful and unnerving read.’

  Caroline Mitchell, bestselling author of Silent Victim

  ‘A kick-ass page turner … I was knocked senseless by the awesome twist.’

  John Marrs, #1 bestselling author of The One

  ‘I LOVED Bad Sister. Tense, convincing and complex, it kept me guessing (wrongly!)’

  Caz Frear, bestselling author of Sweet Little Lies

  ‘This book is not only gripping, but it explores the mother/daughter relationship perfectly, and ends with a gasp-out-loud twist’

  Closer

  ‘I devoured this story in one sitting!’

  Louise Jensen, bestselling author of The Sister

  ‘How do you support victims of crime when you live with unresolved mysteries of your own? Psychologist Connie Summers is a fascinatingly flesh-and-blood guide through this twisty thriller.’

  Louise Candlish, Sunday Times bestselling author of Our House

  ‘Keeps you guessing right to the end’

  Sue Fortin, author of Schoolgirl Missing

  ‘I read One Little Lie in one greedy gulp. A compelling thriller about the dark side of maternal instinct and love – I couldn’t put it down!’

  Isabel Ashdown, author of Beautiful Liars

  ‘A gripping read which moved at a head-spinning pace … I simply couldn’t put this book down until I reached the dramatic and devastating conclusion.’

  Claire Allan, USA Today bestselling author of Her Name Was Rose

  ‘I was fascinated by the cleverly written threads linking the psychologist, police, criminal and victim. Utterly original and thought provoking … This cries out to be made into a TV series.’

  Amanda Robson, Sunday Times bestselling author of Guilt

  ‘Engrossing psychological suspense about the effect of a murder on the mother of a teenage killer. Sam Carrington had me hooked!’

  Emma Curtis, bestselling author of One Little Mistake

  Dedication

  For Doug

  Chill out. You’ll live longer.

  Epigraph

  Ginger, Ginger broke a winder

  Hit the winder – crack!

  The baker came out to give ’im a clout

  And landed on his back

  – 19th-century British nursery rhyme which is believed to have given rise to the childhood prank game Knock, Knock, Ginger (also known as Knock Down, Ginger and other regional variations)

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Sam Carrington

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue: 1989

  Chapter One: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Two: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Three: 1989: Bovey Police Station, outskirts of Mapledon

  Chapter Four: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Five: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Six: 1989: Bovey Police Station

  Chapter Seven: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eight: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Nine: 1989: Bovey Police Station

  Chapter Ten: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eleven: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Twelve: 1989: Brook Cottage Store, Mapledon

  Chapter Thirteen: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Fourteen: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Fifteen: 1989: Mapledon

  Chapter Sixteen: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Seventeen: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Eighteen: 1989: Mapledon

  Chapter Nineteen: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Twenty: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Twenty-One: 1989: Blackstone Close

  Chapter Twenty-Two: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Twenty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Twenty-Four: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Twenty-Five: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Twenty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: 1989: Hayes residence

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Thirty: 1989: Blackstone Close

  Chapter Thirty-One: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Thirty-Two: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Thirty-Three: 1989: Mapledon Church

  Chapter Thirty-Four: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Thirty-Five: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Thirty-Six: 1989: Blackstone Close

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: 1989: Blackstone Close

  Chapter Forty: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Forty-One: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Forty-Two: 1989: Mapledon Churchyard

  Chapter Forty-Three: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Forty-Four: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Forty-Five: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Forty-Six: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Forty-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Forty-Eight: 1989: Mapledon Park

  Chapter Forty-Nine: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Fifty: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Fifty-One: 1989: Brook Cottage Store

  Chapter Fifty-Two: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Fifty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Fifty-Four: 1989: Mapledon Primary School

  Chapter Fifty-Five: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Fifty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Fifty-Seven: 1989: Mapledon

  Chapter Fifty-Eight: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Fifty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Sixty: 1989: The Plough, Mapledon

  Chapter Sixty-One: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Sixty-Two: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Sixty-Three: 1989: Hayes residence

  Chapter Sixty-Four: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Sixty-Five: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Sixty-Six: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Sixty-Seven: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Sixty-Eight: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Sixty-Nine: 1989: Brook Cottage Store

  Chapter Seventy: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Seventy-One: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Seventy-Two: 1989: Mapledon Church

  Chapter Seventy-Three: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Seventy-Four: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Seventy-Five: 1989: Inside Billy’s truck

  Chapter Seventy-Six: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Seventy-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Seventy-Eight: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Seventy-Nine: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eighty: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Eighty-One: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Eighty-Two: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eighty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Eighty-Four: 1989: The Mapledon Meeting

  Chapter Eighty-Five: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eighty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Eighty-Seven: 1989: En route to Bovey Police Station

  Chapter Eighty-Eight: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Eighty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Ninety: 2019: Eric

  Chapter Ninety-One: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Ninety-Two: 1989: A roadside in Mapledon

  Chapter Ninety-Three: 1989: Fisher residence

  Chapter Ninety-Four: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Ninety-Five: 2019: Anna

  Chapter Ninety-Six: 1989: Outskirts of Mapledon

  Chapter Ninety-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter Ninety-Eight: 2019: Eric

  Chapter Ninety-Nine: 2019: Anna

  Chapter One Hundred: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter One Hundred and One: 2019: Eric

  Chapter One Hundred and Two: 2019: Anna

  Chapter One Hundred and Three: 2019: Lizzie

  Chapter One Hundred and Four: 1989: Bella

  Chapter One Hundred and Five: 2019: Anna

  Epilogue: 2019: Mapledon Church

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  By the Same Author

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  1989

  ‘Go on, Bella – do it now!’ the girl hissed. She slapped both hands over her mouth to prevent her near-hysterical laughter carrying across the man’s garden and alerting him to their presence.

  Bella whipped her head around, her golden hair sweeping across her back like a closing curtain, and looked at her friend. ‘I don’t want to.’ Her voice was a broken whisper as tears threatened.

  ‘Don’t be a baby all your life. It’s just a silly game. He can’t even see you, I promise.’ The girl dared to edge out slightly from her hiding place behind the metal dustbin at the front of the garden, out of direct eye-line of the kitchen window.

  The one he was at.

  Bella followed her friend’s gaze. The man, his upper body filling the frame, stared out – his eyes like black slits, lost beneath bushy eyebrows.

  The girl shrank down lower still. Bella knew her friend didn’t want to be the one caught out. She’d done her dare yesterday and succeeded. It was Bella’s turn now.

  ‘This is a stupid game,’ Bella said, moving forwards, her shoulders slumped, until she reached the bungalow. She pushed herself flat against the wall; the hard-stippled surface dug into the backs of her bare legs. She stood stock-still – only her eyes moved as she sought out her friend. She glared at her, silently begging to be let off the dare.

  ‘Creepy Cawley, Creepy Cawley,’ the other girl chanted, her tone hushed but loud enough to send chills down Bella’s spine; her legs began to shake, her fear visible. She wished she’d worn her corduroy trousers now, not the stupid cotton shorts again. It’s just a game, no need to be scared. But, despite trying to calm herself, her mum’s words of warning rang in her ears: You must never go near Mr Cawley. Ever. Do you understand? She’d said the police had been called lots of times because of kids trespassing on his property, annoying him. Terrorising him. Those were the words her mum had used. Bella closed her eyes tight, remembering how her mum had put one hand on her hip, holding the finger of her other hand out, wagging it like a metronome as she spoke in a stern voice: ‘It’s important you listen, Bella. To every word I say.’

  Her mum said that one day someone would get hurt.

  Bella didn’t want that day to be today, or for her to be the someone getting hurt.

  ‘You’re almost there! Go on!’

  ‘But it’s not nice.’ Bella’s voice susurrated through her gritted teeth.

  ‘Don’t be a chicken. I won’t play with you anymore if you don’t do it.’

  Bella’s eyes, glassy with tears, travelled to the door. It was only a few feet away. But it seemed like the longest journey she would ever make.

  Taking a deep breath, she lunged and ran, crashing against the door accidentally as her legs turned to jelly. In her fright, she almost bolted without completing the dare, but with her friend’s high-pitched screech hurtling across the garden, shouting, ‘Knock on the door, idiot!’ Bella did as she was told.

  Two hard knocks later, her knuckles stinging, she was done.

  The two girls ran – squealing with a mixture of exhilaration and terror – out of Creepy Cawley’s garden, out of the cul-de-sac and into the road leading back to their street.

  Billy Cawley smiled as he watched their retreat.

  They’d be back.

  And next time he’d be ready.

  Next time, he’d live up to his nickname and give them a real reason to scream.

  Chapter One

  2019

  Anna

  Friday 12th July

  Anna replaced the receiver, forcibly tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked out of the secretary’s office without conversation. It wasn’t the first time her mother had phoned her at work, but it was one of the more worrying calls. She was determined not to pander to her, though – she’d responded to Muriel’s demands to leave right away by pointing out she had a responsibility for the children and it was only another hour until the bell. Then she would begin the journey down to Mapledon.

  To the house where she grew up.

  The one she’d longed to leave way before she had the means to do so.

  ‘Mrs Denver, Charlie is throwing the papier-mâché gloop everywhere!’

  The shrill whine of the child brought Anna out of her thoughts.

  ‘He is going to have to clear up the mess he’s made, then, isn’t he?’ She placed her hand on the seven-year-old’s shoulders and guided her back to the classroom. Leaving her class unattended, even for a matter of minutes, was never a good idea – and especially on the final day of the term when all the children were hyped up ready for the summer break. ‘A spirited bunch’ was how the head teacher described them. Anna, whilst agreeing, also thought a few of them were just plain naughty. She’d never have allowed Carrie to act up like that – she expected more from her daughter – whether as a result of teaching other people’s children and witnessing their sometimes unruly behaviour, or as a result of her own strict upbringing, she couldn’t ascertain. It was a case of the chicken or the egg.

  Having finally paired all the children with their respective adults, Anna flitted around the classroom clearing away the activities, tutting at the globs of slushy, sticky newspaper remnants now clinging to the tables like shit to a blanket. As she picked at some of the hardened paper, Muriel’s words played out in her head.

  Something’s wrong, Anna. Something is very wrong.

  Anna had sighed at her mother’s words, wondering what melodrama was about to unfold. But her gut had twisted as Muriel carried on with her story.

  Now, washing and drying her hands with the small, rough towel, Anna decided she’d have to ring James and get him to have Carrie for the night despite it not being his turn. The journey to Mapledon would only take two hours or so from Bristol, but she didn’t want to take Carrie there – didn’t want her dragged into whatever was going on. If anything. Her mother could be over-reacting. When Anna was growing up that’d been her MO – even before Anna’s father had left and then more so when old-age shenanigans took over. But just in case, it would be better to go alone.

  Grabbing her bag, she shouted goodbye to the remaining teachers, swept out of the building and climbed into her car. Her blue Escort spluttered into life and she drove out of the school gate. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turned right, joining the traffic that would take her to the M5.

  Her mother’s words continued to repeat themselves inside her mind as she drove:

  There was such a racket at the front of the house, it scared me half to death. When I mustered the courage to go out there, I found it.

  Found what, Mum?

  The doll’s head. Hammered to my front door.

  Chapter Two

  2019

  Lizzie

  The envelope, its corner peeping out from within the clump of mail she’d shoved behind the purple key pot – the one neither of them actually used for their keys, preferring instead to spend stressful minutes searching for the last place they’d flung them – glared at her like an accusation. Lizzie snatched it up, then slammed it down on the counter, taking a step back as though it were a dangerous object about to inflict harm.

  Something told her it would do her harm. Its content, anyway. Mentally, not physically. She knew physical pain, had endured years of it growing up in various care homes. She could cope with that; was hardened to it. Her mental well-being had never caught up, though. That was still fragile, like butterfly wings – delicate, prone to breaking. She had to guard herself from outside factors.

  Guard herself from the words the envelope held within.

  She’d ignored it for as long as possible. Hidden it from Dom. Tried to forget about it. She should’ve ripped it up and binned it. Why hadn’t she? Sleep had been impossible, her thoughts, her imagination, keeping her awake hour after hour. She knew this had to be done.

  Taking the envelope once again, she stared at the postmark. At the logo. It was definitely from the solicitor.

  It’d happened thirty years ago. Lizzie had only been eight years old, but some memories never faded. Some intensified with age. There was much she didn’t remember – but those gaps had often been filled in for her by the people in the children’s home. Carers, teachers, the other kids – they’d all had something to say about it.