Yesterday they were a family like any other…

Twenty-year-old Rachel McDermott was your typical girl-next-door. She loved her job as a nurse, was close to her family in the small Irish town of Corbally and seemed to have no enemies. So when she is brutally murdered, the local community reels in horror and Detective Iris Locke is put on the case.

The main suspect is her close friend, sixteen-year-old Eleanor Marshall, a tearaway teenager with addiction problems whose parents have long since turned their backs on her. Eleanor was last seen fleeing the scene where Rachel’s body was found and is now missing in the woods near the Comeragh mountains.

Eleanor’s sister Karena insists Eleanor wouldn’t have hurt her best friend, but a day later, when Karena is found dead in the area Eleanor is hiding, Iris knows things don’t look good for the runaway teen. She doesn’t want to believe that Eleanor is her sister’s killer, but all the evidence seems to point that way.

But Iris can’t let go of the elements of the case she doesn’t have answers for. The fact that Rachel’s father died in suspicious circumstances. The strange company that Rachel was keeping the night before she died. Was it guilt or fear that made Eleanor run? And can Iris find her before it is too late?

This gripping mystery thriller is perfect for fans of Carol Wyer, Robert Dugoni and LJ Ross.

PROLOGUE

Ten Years Earlier…

She was drowning. Her eyes were open to the darkness, bulging from their sockets. The water stung at first, but now the filmy softness of it was like a balm and maybe if she stared hard into it, there might be some reprieve. Of course, she knew the only way it would really stop was when she was dead. Maybe not this time, but Eleanor understood the hatred had to end somewhere. The last of her breath gasped desperately, hiccupping strange sounds that ran far beyond her. This wouldn’t kill her, but still she struggled, a fighting furious force, thrusting and lashing with arms that never met their target. She was trapped, strong hands over her head, a forearm tight across her shoulder blades, a knee digging into her – she would have bruises, but that was nothing new. Her belly, aching and hungry, weighed her further down and she knew that hatred would never go away.

‘Eleanor.’ She heard her mother’s voice a long way off, as if it had surfaced, and then she was pulled out of the water, a shivering, shaking rag, almost dead, but not quite yet. ‘This can’t go on…’ the words were uttered quietly. ‘Oh, my darling, this can’t go on…’

Chapter 1

Eleanor Marshall sighed, blowing out an almost perfect smoke ring from the last cigarette in the packet. Friday night and this was all she had, an empty packet of cigarettes and an early night in a bed that might as well have been in a cell. It hadn’t always been like this. Far from it: before her father had insisted she come to this happy-clappy, lovey-dovey crazy house, Eleanor had lived a privileged existence. The daughter of one of Ireland’s wealthiest men, with designer clothes in her wardrobe and more freedom than perhaps was good for her, she’d rebelled early and with the trademark style of one keen to set an example for the sister coming behind. That was before they’d sent her here to Curlew Hall.

Such a stupid name to call this place. For one thing, they were miles from the seaside and so the chance of having curlews anywhere near were slim to nil. For another, the hall had been razed to the ground almost a hundred years ago. There was no hall here now –only a fancy counselling centre, built for kids with parents rich enough to pass on their responsibilities to someone else. Well, not for much longer. In a few months’ time, she’d be sixteen and old enough to sign herself out of here and do whatever she wanted, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

She looked across the courtyard, the light fading fast behind clouds too domineering to reveal what sunshine remained with any great vigour. There were two units, one of them empty for now, the other housed four girls. She spotted one of them pass by a window. Bitch. Suz Mullins – a hard nut, here only because the state couldn’t find anywhere else to take her, so the tax man coughed up the exorbitant fees to keep her in luxury that was far too good for her in Eleanor’s opinion.

Jealousy, that was Suz’s problem, even if – in Eleanor’s opinion, again – she didn’t have that much to be jealous of at all. True, Eleanor’s father owned a quarter of county Limerick – the good quarter. She had a family, for what that was worth. She’d had a home before… this. Although, sometimes it felt as if home was moving further away, blurred with time and antidepressants; perhaps she was better off here, even if she’d never actually belong.

Tonight, she was tired. One of the hippy counsellors, a woman called Ava, considered it her personal mission to run their addictions out of them. Eleanor figured it wouldn’t matter if you were here with an eating disorder or a case of schizophrenia, Ava would have you trotting through the woods to clear your head and sort out all of your worries. Ten miles today – and her feet hurt like hell. It wasn’t the distance, the problem was she’d stuck to her guns and refused to wear her proper shoes, so now the expensive boots she’d bought in Harvey Nicks a year earlier were ruined and she had the blisters to prove she’d walked every single mile.

‘You ready for bed, love?’ Rachel asked as she put her head around the door and smiled kindly. It was that kind of place – you got to move around, but you were never really alone; with Eleanor’s history of self-harm and damage to property, there was always someone close by. Rachel was lovely. She probably wouldn’t last much longer. They never did. ‘You can stay out a little more, if you’d like, just don’t get cold.’ She walked over with a large faded blanket and placed it over Eleanor’s shoulders like a tarpaulin. Eleanor was barely five-feet tall, so it covered her skeletal frame in a fabric-softener infused whirl of well-washed cotton. Rachel reached across and pulled the hair from Eleanor’s eyes, then she looked at her, perhaps they were both tired. It had been a very long day.

‘Good evening, Princess.’ Nate Hegarty was standing at the door, filling up the height of the frame, his skinny arm stretched across the opening. He smelled of cigarettes and cheap aftershave and something much too dark for Eleanor to put a name on. He was wearing his usual uniform of hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, with trainers that had to be a couple of sizes too large. His dark and greasy hair fell across one eye and he shoved it back with the heel of his hand to reveal cruel eyes and a taunting mouth. How long had he been there? She knew he was not watching her. He was watching Rachel – he always did, as if it was some game they played.

Eleanor wondered if they’d done it. She couldn’t imagine anyone sleeping with Nate Hegarty, but then Rachel was a funny sort of girl. She’d started at Curlew Hall only months earlier. She was the kindest of all the staff, but there was something about her, as if she had been apologising all her life. And there was no reason – she was that elusive blend of all good qualities as far as Eleanor could see, smart, funny, thoughtful and, yes, even pretty. Eleanor could never quite put her finger on it, but it was almost as if Rachel was grateful to Nate. And that just made no sense to Eleanor. Nate Hegarty never did anything for anyone that didn’t involve some return for himself. Eleanor had thought idly once, if they were doing it – having sex – here, she could get him sacked. The only problem was it would also mean getting Rachel sacked and Eleanor wouldn’t want that for the world.

‘How’s my girl tonight? It’s me, you and Rachel here.’ He waited for some sign of recognition from Rachel. Nothing doing, and Eleanor smirked, only because she saw how much it unnerved him, as if she knew all his secrets even though she didn’t. ‘Hi, Rachel.’ He smiled with yellow teeth and eyes that didn’t crease.

‘You’re not meant to be hanging about here, Nate, you know that. Go and get a cup of coffee for yourself and we’ll join you in a while,’ Rachel said icily. Nate was meant to be working security – this was an all-girls re hab centre, no need for male staff here.

‘God, get a grip will you?’ He sniffed. ‘It’s not like she cares.’ He turned on his heel, heading off to the kitchen.

‘Sorry, love, don’t be heeding him – when he’s finished his tea, we’ll snuggle down with a movie, how’s that?’ Rachel said softly. It meant something, Eleanor figured, the fact that she counted her as something more than just a case number. ‘Now, you just pop into your jammies and we’ll see about a nice hot drink for both of us.’

Eleanor shuffled into her pyjamas. Then hot chocolate before bed, her favourite time of the day. Hot chocolate alone was a panacea in a world lacking any real joy. Sleep arrived easily. With epilepsy there is no need for extreme sports, with her heavy medication there’s no need for anything stronger than warm milk. She’d be asleep within minutes – usually.

When she arrived in the day room, Nate was spread over two hard chairs, his head bent forward. Eleanor sat on the couch and burrowed beneath a fleecy throw.

‘She’s quiet tonight – ye give her something?’ He slurped coffee, blowing before each noisy mouthful.

‘She’s had a good day. Her appointment with the psychiatrist went well and then we had a game of rounders in the courtyard, the kids versus the staff.’ Rachel was removing the keys from the fastening attached to her belt.

‘Very nice,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Hmm.’ She began to count out the meds for handover, a low whisper of Irish numbers following her fingers, which moved each pill across the table as it was counted.

‘Any changes to her tablets?’ Nate had always been interested in the medication cabinet. Eleanor had noticed it and she was sure everyone else must have too.

‘Give it a rest, will you?’ Rachel handed him the stock book to sign, confirming that he had witnessed the count. It was the same each night, every single tablet counted out and then locked away until the following day. Nate signed slowly, making her wait.

‘Suppose she’s wrecked now?’ He didn’t sound like he cared either way. Wrecked or not, it was all the same to Nate.

‘Aye, she’ll sleep tonight.’ Rachel’s voice was soft. Perhaps she was tired too.

Eleanor got up from the sofa, pulling the fleece throw with her. It was good to see Nate flinch as he reacted to the sudden movement. The few steps to the kitchen were enough. She stood with her back to the door. Nate, if he was looking, could see nothing. It was all too easy. She had done it before; she’d do it properly this time. Didn’t they ever learn? The tablets were there for the taking. She gathered them quickly, slid them silently into her pyjama pocket, and left the rest. It was done in seconds. She heard a noise behind her, but saw no one. She placed her cup in the dishwasher. Someone was coming.

‘Almost nine o’clock, Eleanor,’ Rachel said softly. She took down the small container with two tablets, one to lessen the effects of her epilepsy, the other an antidepressant Rachel handed them to her and waited while she swallowed them.

AUTHOR BIO

Geraldine Hogan was born in Ireland. She gained an Honors Degree in English Literature and Psychology from Dublin City University and a Postgraduate Degree in Training and Management from University College, Galway. She is an Irish award-winning and bestselling author of four contemporary fiction novels under the pen name Faith Hogan.
HER SISTER'S BONES is her first crime novel, her second WHY SHE RAN is due out in December 2019.
She is currently working on her next novel. She lives in the west of Ireland with her husband, four children and a very busy Labrador named Penny. She's a writer, reader, enthusiastic dog walker and reluctant jogger - except of course when it is raining!

You can find out more about Geraldine here:
www.Facebook/GeraldineHoganAuthor.com
Twitter @gerhogan
https://www.instagram.com/faithhoganauthor/?hl=en

PUBLICATION DATE: 19th December 2019

PRINT LENGTH: 295 pages

PUBLISHER: Bookouture

GENRE: Police Procedural

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