Pretty Little Things: 2018’s most nail-biting serial killer thriller with an unbelievable twist

‘Phone records too.’

He nodded. ‘On it.’

‘Why wasn’t Bryony reported missing sooner?’ Charis said.

‘Something we need to ask her mother, but it’s been noted that Bryony had threatened to leave before,’ Madeleine said. ‘She was definitely going somewhere. She took her rucksack and a change of clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, toothbrush.’

‘Given that, are we sure she isn’t just a runaway? She’d obviously planned to leave.’

‘I see your point,’ Madeleine said, ‘but she hasn’t been in contact with anyone. Her mobile is switched off, which is unusual in itself, and sadly, she fits the victim profile. We need a Family Liaison Officer over at her house ASAP and a search of her room. We need to seize any home PC, her laptop, any tablets, any other mobile phones.’

‘Do we know who the last person was to have contact with her?’

‘Her older brother texted her to ask if she was OK after an argument with their mother over her partner. Bryony stormed out.’

Madeleine wrote a few details down, before addressing the team.

‘All four of the girls were at surrounding schools. Caroline White and Juliet Edwards had part-time jobs in Kennington itself. We need to look again at all the victims’ social media, friends, boyfriends . . . What do they have in common? None of the girls knew each other, and nothing in their lives stands out as unusual, but what about Bryony Keats?

‘Pay close attention to social media. Just because we’ve found no connection between the girls in person doesn’t mean they didn’t interact, even in the smallest measure, via the internet. I know we’ve looked, but look again.

‘Similarly, with home life. Any problems at home or school? Check again. Something must connect these girls.’

‘All the victims were last seen before they went down country roads,’ Charis said. ‘I’ve already organised a check of nearby farms and any outhouses, stables.’

‘Good, and everyone who gave a statement when the girls were missing, I want re-interviewed.’ Madeleine looked further down the table at a few DCs. ‘HOLMES team,’ she said, ‘cross-reference everything.’

Madeleine set a few more tasks for people to do – more door-to-door, acquiring CCTV footage – before she began to wrap up the briefing.

‘Bryony’s been missing for four days now. Time is crucial.’

The room fell silent, each person more than aware what this could mean.

‘The more time that goes by since the last sighting of Bryony, the more we have to assume we’re looking for a body,’ Madeleine said, voicing what they were all thinking. ‘Given that we now have the bodies of four teenagers, we must assume that Bryony has been taken by the same person or persons, unless we have something concrete to suggest otherwise.

‘Bryony fits the victim profile; she’s in her mid to late teens, she lives in one of the surrounding villages where, as we know only too well, CCTV is limited along the country lanes. We do have one advantage, in that people who reside in small towns and villages tend to notice anything out of the ordinary. We need a fresh appeal for witnesses and I’ll be organising a press conference with the Chief Constable as soon as possible, but I can’t stress this enough: no one is to let slip anything to the media.’

Once the rest of the team dispersed, Madeleine called Charis and Alex into a small, stuffy interview room.

‘You guys are my eyes and ears more than anyone right now,’ she said, looking at each one of them in turn, making sure they understood how the pressure to get speedy results was weighing on her mind.

Alex’s dark-blue eyes looked sideways at Charis. ‘Guv,’ he said, his attention back on Madeleine. ‘Maddy . . . we have your back here. Everyone does.’

Madeleine smiled, but it was weak. Alex was in his early fifties and had a lot of experience, but he’d never wanted to progress to a higher rank. She’d always supposed it was because he didn’t want the axe to fall on his head should an investigation go wrong, as they’d all seen happen before.

Reality was, as Madeleine had come to realise, Alex wanted to remain a DC not through lack of ambition but because he wanted to help the families left destroyed by serious crime. The closer you got to the top, the less time you spent doing the groundwork.

The interaction with the families was key for him, Charis too.

It’s what kept them all focused.

‘No one wanted this investigation,’ Charis said. ‘Remember, you’re the one who stepped up when no one else would.’

Madeleine gave her a smile. ‘It’s my head if we get this wrong.’

‘We won’t,’ Alex said.

Madeleine blew out a long breath and shook her head. ‘Something about this whole case is off. It’s someone local, has to be. The locations, the timings . . . it all seems so random, desperate, like the killer has an insatiable need.’

Charis put her hand out and rested it on her shoulder. ‘We’ll find Bryony Keats alive, Guv. We will.’

Madeleine admired the optimism but the truth was, she knew in her heart that Bryony was almost certainly dead already.

CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_b3c1896c-aac8-5ff8-aef6-30030c84e63a)

CHARLOTTE

I needn’t tell you that my relationship with Elle was strained before my accident. I wasn’t such a good mother – there, I said it.

I, Charlotte Monroe, was a bad mother.

Was.

Not now. I’m trying to make up for years of putting my career first, never really paying much attention to the beautiful baby girl I had. I missed out on so much of her early years. All those milestones they tell new mothers to document with photographs and scrapbook memories because kids grow up so quickly? That never really resonated with me.

I didn’t feel that maternal instinct and I used to think there was something wrong with me.

I knew what I should be doing, but I could only handle the bare basics.

Iain thinks I could have had a touch of post-natal, but I know the root cause is because of what happened to my brother Miles.

I guess at the time I was scared to get too attached and risk the pain that would result if anything bad happened to my own child. I remember how detached my mother became with me after that summer.

I sit in the living room, staring at the photographs of Elle that are dotted around the room. I don’t appear in many. Mostly it is Iain and Elle.

It wasn’t any surprise to me that Elle bonded well with her father. Best buddies they were and still are, although I can almost feel a sense of jealousy sometimes when Iain sees me focus a lot of my attention on Elle nowadays.

Despite my efforts to really become better acquainted with her, I’d feel an ache I knew to be guilt whenever Elle hurt herself as a small child. She’d reach for Iain first. I was a reluctant second best to her, and to this day it still has the power to break my heart into a million pieces.

Elle comes into the living room, so I quickly press the television off standby, and BBC One comes up. I don’t want her to think I’ve been wallowing in my own thoughts.

‘Savannah’s car’s just pulled up,’ she says.

I look at my watch. It’s still early but I dive from the sofa and head for the stairs. ‘Let her in, will you?’ I say over my shoulder as I take the stairs two at a time.

‘Mum, it’s not even that bad,’ Elle says from the hallway.

I can hear the exasperation in her voice, and I imagine she rolls her eyes, too, for good measure.