Colette McBeth - An act of silence

Copyright 2017 Colette McBeth

The right of Colette McBeth to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

First published as an Ebook in 2017 by WILDFIRE, an imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire

eISBN: 978 1 4722 2667 9

Cover design www.asmithcompany.co.uk
Cover photographs Karina Vegas/Arcangel Images
Author photograph Paul Curran

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Also by Colette McBeth

Precious Thing

The Life I Left Behind

For An Act of Silence

Sensational. Intricately plotted and emotionally tense. Loved it Clare Mackintosh, author of I Let You Go

I loved it. Clever, atmospheric and truly scary. Colette is the real deal Marian Keyes, bestselling author of The Woman Who Stole my Life

An intelligent psychological thriller with a new twist on the genre. A thrilling read C.L. Taylor, author of The Missing

A scorcher of a novel where all of the elements of great storytelling come together vivid characterisation, great plotting, and a denouement to freeze the blood. I loved it! Liz Nugent, author of Lying in Wait

The complex nature of family relationships are portrayed with clarity and heart in Colette McBeths An Act of Silence. A taut thriller Ali Land, author of the Sunday Times bestseller Good Me, Bad Me

Dazzling. Political intrigue, echoes of Savile, with a troubled mother and son relationship at its heart Tammy Cohen, author of When She Was Bad

Thoroughly gripping, clever, beautifully written crime fiction Jane Casey, author of After the Fire

A superbly written and compelling story that combines sharply observed characters with fabulous plotting Amanda Jennings, author of In Her Wake

I inhaled it literally reading it in one sitting. A beautifully-written, gripping and thought-provoking book Emma Kavanagh, author of Falling

One of those beautiful books where you think youve worked it all out, only to discover that youve been duped by an expert who knows how to write brilliant twists and turns. I devoured it, but also didnt want it to end as I was captivated by both the perfectly executed plot and the sublime writing SJ Holliday, author of The Damsel Fly

Expertly crafted and completely gripping. Pacy, suspenseful, emotionally convincing and surprisingly moving... One of the best thrillers of the year Graeme Cameron, author of Normal

Brilliantly compulsive, utterly heart breaking, beautifully written. A psychological thriller of depth and beauty Liz Barnsley, blogger at LizLovesBooks.com

For The Life I Left Behind

A rare thing; gripping but compassionate Paula Hawkins, international bestselling author of The Girl on the Train

The plot is taut and compelling, the writing excellent, but its the exciting narrative structure that sets it apart. Marian Keyes

Intelligent and creepy. One of this years best psychological thrillers Paula Daly, author of The Mistake I Made

To everyone who hasnt been heard.

Linda

Say yes.

One word, all he wants to hear.

Yes, I believe you. Yes, I will help you .

That look of his, brimful of need, stirs in me the biological instinct to protect, make safe, put things right.

I am hardwired to give him what he wants. That is love, I suppose.

But heres a thought: what if I had resisted, left him to deal with his own mistakes, learn his lessons the hard way; would he be the same man, sitting here recounting this story?

The truth is Ill never know.

We are where we are.

It is early, night is fading but dawn has yet to crack open the day. These are what I call the never hours. Suspended between dark and light when the worlds eyes are firmly shut and only the few night owls and early birds among us get to glimpse secrets unfolding. Five minutes ago I woke with a jolt; a noise, a movement, an overactive imagination tore through my sleep. I descended the stairs, fearful there was a secret waiting for me in the shadows, behind a door or hidden in a cupboard. I reached the kitchen, flicked on the light and his voice shattered the morning silence with a simple request.

Milk, one sugar, please.

The fright found an echo in my heartbeat, galloped through my body. Another break-in, that was my first fear. My second? That it was me they wanted this time, not simply an old laptop. I swung around to match the voice to a face and found him.

I waited for relief to flood me. It didnt arrive. Instead, my fear was replaced by dread.

It wasnt him.

He could have been a stranger, this man. The familiar gloss of wealth and success and fame scoured away to reveal a bleaker version, one with a film of dirt thick on his skin, dark oily eyes that hadnt found sleep in a long time. He was broken, that much was obvious. Something had happened and seeing him like this broke me too.

What have you done? I asked.

He caught me in a stare. The swell of tears in his eyes quickly rubbed away with the back of his hand.

Oh, Gabriel. I held my son as tightly as I did when he was a baby. Tell me, I said. Theres nothing that cant be fixed.

Now we sit at my kitchen table where he used to inhale one, two, three Weetabix as a boy each morning. And he tells me.

A woman.

She is called Mariela. Pretty name. About mid-twenties he thinks but apparently its hard to tell these days.

Was she your girlfriend?

It was just sex.

I dont bite. Gabriels casual approach to intimacy has long been the cause of my disapproval. Now is not the time for lectures.

I see. And when was this encounter?

Two days ago. Not last night, the night before.

At your house?

He nods, rolls his eyes at his own stupidity.

And then what?

He covers his mouth with his hand, the words sting as they come out.

Then they found her.

These are the facts I collect.

My son Gabriel met a woman called Mariela in a sushi bar two nights ago. She went home with him where they had sex. The next morning she was found in an allotment.

Mariela is dead.

The allotments back on to his house.

Gabriel has been asked to report to Camden police station in six hours for questioning.

You believe me, dont you?

I...

Im not fast enough and he cant slow down now he has started. He races on with his monologue. My mind is stuck, terrified of following him because it knows where this ends.

He wants me to help him. Give him some time to get his head straight. Provide my car, thats all really, not a lot to ask, and cash too. And if anyone asks if I have seen him, the answer is no. Hes not running away, just giving himself a bit of space.

Theres an intensity to his argument that is impossible to ignore. Wasnt it always the way? My boy is nothing if not persuasive; one of his many qualities, but dangerous at times too. Someone is trying to frame me, he says. I want this to be true but it doesnt stack up, all I can think of is, Why, why, why would they do that?