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

‘They’re too maggoty to be viewed by family members, that’s what I heard . . .’

‘. . . Yes, that’s what we thought, but they were in different stages of decomposition, so it’s going to be hard to say how each died . . .’

Dale goes to serve one of them with several newspapers and I move away from the counter. I feel Dale’s eyes following my movements.

‘Journalists,’ I mouth to him.

*

I’m sitting in the back finishing the last of my tea when Dale comes in.

I raise my mug at him. ‘I’ve ten minutes left on break.’

‘Yeah, I know. Dad’s watching the shop.’

‘Need five minutes?’

He blows out a long breath. ‘Yeah. I’ve lost count of how many journalists have come through here in the last few hours.’ He grabs a can from the mini fridge, takes a seat opposite me and pops it open.

‘So,’ he says, ‘how’s Elle?’

‘She’s fine.’

He swigs from the can, swallows and lets out a burp. ‘Got a birthday coming up soon, hasn’t she?’

‘Her seventeenth.’

‘Almost legal drinking age,’ he says with a grin.

This is awkward. I give a noncommittal nod and look at my phone.

‘Has she asked for anything specific for her birthday?’

‘Oh, yeah, driving lessons.’

He chokes on his drink. ‘Wow, are you going to get them for her? I keep hoping Dad will let me start driving the van more. He let me do the newspaper drop for the paperboy last week.’

‘How was that?’

‘Bit scary on some of them bends, and when I got onto the Linkway, I was bricking it.’ He laughs then catches the expression on my face.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s OK, it’s just a road.’

‘Yeah, but, y’know . . .’ He looks at my scar, quickly looks away.

I smile. ‘It’s fine, really.’

The Linkway.

I try not to think about it too much, which is hard. I have to drive on it most days and it sets me on edge each and every time. It doesn’t get better with each journey, contrary to what the doctor said to me months ago.

‘So, Elle’s getting lessons,’ Dale says.

I shrug. ‘I can’t see it right now. Iain wants to get her them, even though he’s moaning the next minute about how we have to be careful with money.’

‘Has she asked for anything else, less expensive?’

I see his face flush when I look at him.

‘I thought it’d be nice to get her something.’

‘She did say she wanted some jewellery.’

He looks hopeful.

‘Pandora stuff.’

His face drops a fraction.

‘Expensive tastes, I know,’ I say. ‘Last year we got her a four-leaf-clover enamelled necklace. Cost a small fortune.’ I hope this will kill the conversation about Elle. I’m not going to encourage anything here. Dale’s nice, but . . . well, then there’s Harry. Don’t mix business . . . Savannah’s been proof of that.

I distract myself with my phone again.

‘I’m, er, sorry,’ he says. I look up, brow creased. ‘About earlier, with Dad? It’s just a poster, though.’

I bite my tongue.

‘Doesn’t Iain advertise online? He’d reach more people.’

‘Jason helps out in that department but the poster does help.’

Dale visibly bristles at the mention of Jason. He considers Jason to be a rival – not that he has any kind of chance where my daughter’s affections are concerned, but that doesn’t stop him believing there is some connection between them.

There’s no chance of Jason dating Elle either. He’s twenty-six and Iain’s second. Jason knows better than to bark up that tree. Elle feels differently, though, obviously. Jason’s quite attractive and Dale’s . . . not Elle’s type at all.

‘Is Elle having a party this year?’

Watching Dale trying to steer the conversation back to Elle is laughable but I humour him anyway. We chat for another few minutes before we hear Harry clanking around at the front of the store.

‘Better get back,’ Dale says, almost jumping up.

I glance at my watch. I have another few minutes left of my break. I unlock my phone and browse Facebook.

I have one new message showing.

A sinking feeling hits me in my gut then because I know it’s from her before I’ve even clicked on the tab.