Girl Number One: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

either of them from the investigation into my mother’s murder. The
greying policeman looks to be in his fifties. The police woman is younger, smiling
warmly, too busy checking out Tris to bother with me. She’s in her late twenties
and very blonde, her fringe straight and even.
    ‘Detective Sergeant John Carrick,’ the
policeman is introducing himself, taking out a black notebook and pen with an
easy air, as though all this is going to be routine. Which maybe it is. ‘And this
is PC Helen Flynn. We’re here to talk to Miss Eleanor Blackwood about a
reported sighting of a body.’
    ‘That’s me,’ I say, standing up.
    ‘Pleased to meet you. No, don’t get up. This
won’t take long.’
    Detective
Sergeant Carrick draws up a chair opposite me and Tris, making himself
comfortable with the air of a man who has been at work for hours and has not
had a break yet. I don’t believe his smile.
    ‘So you’re Eleanor,’ he says, studying me closely
before glancing at the other three. ‘And these are … friends? Family?’
    ‘Friends.’
    Connor bends forward to shake the sergeant’s
hand. ‘Connor Taylor,’ he says coolly, ‘and this is my brother Tristan.’
    Hannah
introduces herself shyly.
    I
may not know DS Carrick or the other police officer, but from the way he said, So you’re Eleanor , I’m guessing they know
about me.
    Bloody marvellous.
    DS Carrick looks at me from under heavy grey
brows. ‘I’m told you found something in the woods this morning, Eleanor. A woman’s
body.’ He waits for me to nod before continuing, ‘And it’s eighteen years to
the day since your mother was murdered in those woods.’ Again, Carrick pauses,
his eyes on my face. ‘Is that right?’
    Connor has been leaning against the wall again,
arms folded as he listens. Now he straightens up, angry and protective. ‘Excuse
me, but how is that relevant?’
    ‘I’m just verifying the date of Mrs Blackwood’s
murder.’
    ‘Connor, it’s fine,’ I say, not wanting him to
interfere. He means well but it will only make things worse. I meet the
detective’s gaze. ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s the anniversary of her death today.’
    ‘You were a witness to that murder?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And what age were you at the time?’
    ‘Six.’ I stare at the wall above the kettle.
The white gloss paint is still slightly damp from the steam. ‘I was six years
old.’
    ‘Thank you. That’s very helpful.’
    Carrick takes another minute to scribble a few
crabbed lines in his little black notepad. I wait for his next question,
watching him. Tris is staring down over his shoulder at the open notepad. I
wonder if he can see what the detective is writing.
    Friends
defensive. Hiding something? Witness a complete fruitcake with a compulsive
need for attention.
    The police sergeant frowns over his notepad,
then looks up at me again. ‘Perhaps you could talk us through everything that
happened this morning. In particular, we need you to pinpoint the exact location
of your find for us.’
    ‘My find ?’
    ‘The
body,’ he says gently. ‘Two of our officers are already down in the woods but
the area is quite large, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate. We have to know where
to start looking.’
    Hannah
sits beside me, which is when I realise that I have not answered the police
officer’s question and everyone is looking at me. ‘Do you need anything, Ellie?
Some painkillers, maybe?’
    My
hands and legs are stinging, but I shake my head. The pain is useful. It gives
me something to focus on. To distract me from the questions.
    DS Carrick hesitates. ‘I know it’s difficult to
get your thoughts together when you’ve had a shock. But perhaps if you were to describe
exactly what you think you saw, and where you think you saw it.’
    What you
think you saw, and where you think you saw it.
    He does not believe me either.
    I’m feeling a bit chilly now in my running
gear, bare-armed, bare-legged, everyone watching me like I’m an insect