The Silent Witness: Part 1 of 3

The Silent Witness: Part 1 of 3
Casey Watson

‘I’m so sorry, Casey,’ my link worker John said, sounding weary. ‘I know this is probably the worst time I could ring you, but we desperately need someone to take a child tonight.’It’s the night before Christmas when Casey and Mike get the call. A twelve year old girl, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her father is on a ventilator, fighting for his life, while her mother is currently on remand in prison. Despite claiming she attacked him in self-defence, she’s been charged with his attempted murder.The girl is called Bella, and she’s refusing to say anything. The trouble is that she is also the only witness…

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Copyright (#u630f7671-95ab-551e-96a3-0b3d37f14610)

This book is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.

HarperElement

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published by HarperElement 2017

FIRST EDITION

© Casey Watson 2017

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Cover image © Tanya Gramatikova/Arcangel Images (posed by model)

Cover layout © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017

Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008142643

Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780008142674

Version: 2017-04-21

Contents

Cover (#u77bc445f-6f35-5725-92ff-4a6bd1a8d68a)

Title Page (#uae914d88-5918-51c4-9a17-c39c6120a033)

Copyright (#u40fbadda-4b10-541a-82d6-6762837724f8)

Dedication (#u9a957f14-37af-51f7-ac66-fe6ff0116939)

Acknowledgements (#uc128409f-215c-539a-9236-be717e52cd9e)

Chapter 1 (#u24ade8be-9915-5279-b6fb-ea4b55f7dbf7)

Chapter 2 (#ud821c95f-c8ca-52e6-b2fb-e541acaf0630)

Chapter 3 (#u611ba98b-ce43-5be4-a2e8-23fc75aa29ff)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#u630f7671-95ab-551e-96a3-0b3d37f14610)

To all the selfless people out there, in all walks of life. When you wonder whether or not your contribution makes a difference, please know that it does. Every act of kindness or compassion touches someone in some way, and down the line it will be remembered and reflected upon. As always, I’d like to give a special mention to those that work with children and spend every day trying to make a difference – I’m with you every step of the way.

Acknowledgements (#u630f7671-95ab-551e-96a3-0b3d37f14610)

Forever grateful to the team at HarperCollins for continuing to have faith in me and for helping me to get my stories out there. During hard times and good I have felt supported and inspired to carry on. Thanks also to my wonderful agent, Andrew Lownie, who never falters in his faith in me. I owe him everything! Finally, special thanks to my inspiration, mentor and good friend, Lynne, who keeps me plodding on regardless, and helps me to always see the sunny side.

Chapter 1 (#u630f7671-95ab-551e-96a3-0b3d37f14610)

Christmas Eve. Early evening. Tools downed. To-do lists ticked. And to say I was excited is a bit of an understatement. I had begged. I had pleaded. I had wheedled and I had whined. And in the end, because there was clearly going to be no stopping me, Mike had caved in and let me open my main present early.

Just ten minutes ago, in fact, accompanied by heartfelt groans from Tyler, whose early mortification had just been endorsed by my first effort at channelling Beyoncé.

Yes, it had happened. I’d got my wish. My very own karaoke machine.

‘What?’ I asked Tyler, who was staring at me open-mouthed, and not, from the look of it, in a complimentary way. But why the face? He’d been our foster son for a good few years now. Our son now. He already knew about my singing abilities.

About which term we had to agree to disagree. I believed I had some, hence my list for Father Christmas, whereas Tyler believed that I must be tone deaf. ‘Mum!’ he cried, sounding mortified. ‘Have you listened to yourself? Ever? Seriously,’ he added, glancing at Mike, whereupon they shook heads in unison, ‘you need to.’

‘Well, exactly,’ I said, beaming, despite the assault on my singing confidence. ‘That’s precisely why I needed to open it tonight. Plenty of time to get some practice in before tomorrow’s singalong.’