by K. L. Slater
Finding Grace
An unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist
K.L. Slater
Books by K.L. Slater
Safe With Me
Blink
Liar
The Mistake
The Visitor
The Secret
Closer
Finding Grace
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Epilogue
Closer
K.L. Slater’s Email Sign-Up
Books by K.L. Slater
A Letter from K.L. Slater
Blink
Liar
The Mistake
Safe With Me
The Secret
The Visitor
Acknowledgements
One
Lucie
Sunday afternoon
I stir from my nap, feeling something soft on my cheek. When I open my eyes, my husband Blake is crouching down at my side, his fingertip gently tracing down my face.
‘I made you some tea,’ he says. ‘You seemed restless, were you dreaming?’
I shake my head. Try to push away the memories that managed to steal up on me while I slept, but then panic seizes me.
‘What time is it? Grace…’ Still feeling a bit groggy from sleep, I struggle to sit up.
Our daughter has been on a trip to Alton Towers with her best friend Olivia and her parents, Bev and Mike, as a birthday treat for her turning nine years old yesterday.
‘Relax! Oscar’s at your dad’s, but Mike just called and that’s why I’ve woken you. They’re back now from Alton Towers and he says Grace will be setting off to walk home in two or three minutes, so I’m just going outside to watch for her.’
We live on the same street as Bev and Mike, but it’s a long road and our houses are separated by a steep bend. Grace’s constant mithering finally paid off at her birthday party, when I caved in and agreed she could walk home unaccompanied. Unbeknown to her, Mike and Blake will be watching her every move.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ I bend my arm up in front of me and squint at my watch. ‘Two hours!’
I definitely feel a bit off through sleeping so deeply and for too long. I shuffle around until I’m comfy and pick up the hot drink.
‘You must’ve needed it. Mike said they left the park early in the end as it was dropping cold.’ Blake stands up and heads for the hallway. ‘Right. I’m going out to hide behind the hedge to monitor her. God help us if she sees me watching. She’s “nine years old now”, you know.’
I grin at his impression. It’s been Grace’s favourite phrase since her birthday; she’s making full use of her new status while several of her friends at school are still eight. I take a sip of my tea. It’s hot and sweet and I feel instantly better.
It’s been a difficult week for one reason or another and I’m ready to put it behind me.
I set my favourite Ed Sheeran playlist going on Spotify, put my cup down and relax back into the cushions.
It’s the last few quiet minutes before Grace will rush in like a tornado. I’ll hear everything about the day in that wonderfully vivid way she recounts things she’s loved doing, so I’ll feel almost like I’ve been there with her.
I’ve been unsettled since the upset this morning in our local café with Mrs Charterhouse. It feels like anxiety is always just a heartbeat away from pouncing, and once it gets a hold, it’s hard to shake off.
But what Barbara Charterhouse said and did can only keep its power if I continue to analyse her words and constantly turn them over in my mind. She was completely out of order, there’s no doubt about that.
But she obviously just saw red and is probably already ruing her spiteful words and actions.
I can’t wait to cuddle Grace and feel everything in my world is right again.
I decide to quickly pop to the bathroom, so I can give my daughter my full attention when she bounces through the door telling me all about her day out.
I turn up the music a little so I can still hear it and haul myself up from the couch, singing along to one of my favourite tracks. I jog upstairs for the extra exercise, thinking how much better I feel now, after my sleep.
I’m so lucky to be back here in my lovely home after this morning’s upset. And when Blake picks baby Oscar up from Dad’s, I’ll be ready to spend an evening with the people I love the most in the world. I feel resolved not to let that bitter Charterhouse woman spoil it.
I wash my hands, apply a little Molton Brown hand cream and take a moment to enjoy its luxurious creamy feel on my skin. I splashed out on it on a recent shopping trip, reasoning that it’s the little things that give the most joy. That’s what I told Blake, anyway, and he doesn’t have to know how much it cost.
I inspect my skin in the small mirror over the sink, twisting my mouth to one side and then the other. I can’t spot any new spots or wrinkles.
I know I’m lucky. Blake never forgets to tell me he loves me before leaving for work each day, and I always feel so grateful for that. My only problem continues to be truly accepting that someone could genuinely care for me, but I’m working on it.
It’s been a long road, but I do believe I’ll get there.
Blake has been outside for a little while now, so I’m expecting to hear Grace thundering in any moment, bursting with excitement and stories of terrifying rides.
I hear the song begin to fade out, but just as I’m about to leave the bathroom, I spot an errant eyebrow hair sticking out at the wrong angle. In the short pause before the next track starts, I open the cupboard and reach for my tweezers.
And that’s when I hear it.
‘Lucie!’ Blake sounds startled, his tone containing rising panic. ‘Lucie, come quick!’
I drop the tweezers in the sink and dash to the bathroom door, dread nipping at my throat.
I think I hear him shout again.
‘Coming!’ I bound downstairs and rush to the front door.
My husband is standing at the open gate, one hand supporting him on the post. He looks odd, like he’s winded.
‘What’s wrong?’ I rush up the damp, mossy path in my bare feet, and then I realise. ‘Where’s Gra
ce? I thought Mike said she was on her way?’ My words sound hoarse, like there’s a lump of gristle suddenly wedged in my throat.
Blake half turns, limping badly on one leg.
‘He did say that, but she hasn’t appeared from around the bend yet. My phone distracted me, and I slipped on the moss… twisted my ankle. I’ve been shouting you for what seems like ages, but—’
‘Oh God!’ I rush back into the porch and jam my feet into my mucky old trainers, then run out again, flying past Blake through the gate.
‘Call Mike, make sure she’s left.’
‘I already did,’ he shouts after me. ‘He watched her leave the house five minutes ago.’
His final words fade to nothing as I sprint down Violet Road towards the bend in the middle that signifies the halfway mark. From there I’ll have a clear view of the rest of the road.
My shoulders are hunched up under my ears, every muscle in my body feels taut enough to snap.
I must’ve walked this route a thousand times with Grace, and at our nice easy pace, it’s never taken more than five or six minutes to get from Mike and Bev’s house to our own front door. Grace should have certainly at least reached the bend.
I get there, panting. I can visualise her surprised face as I bump into her… She’ll chastise me for checking up on her. I’m not a baby, Mum. I’m NINE now! Her new favourite phrase echoes in my head.
My eyes are clouded with fear as I round the bend, but I force myself to focus. To breathe.
There’s a woman walking a dog, a young mum with a toddler in a pushchair and a couple of teenage lads who’ve just hopped over the fence from the small park.
But I can see immediately that there is no sign of Grace.
Two
I run. I run faster than I’ve ever done in my life, down to Mike and Bev’s house.
Mike rushes out before I even reach their front door.
‘Is she back?’ His face is etched with concern, and for a moment I feel light-headed, like I’m watching the two of us from a distance.
Bev dashes out of the house behind him, and I spot Grace’s best friend, Olivia, standing in the hallway, hugging her arms around herself, big brown eyes wide in a pale face.
‘Have you got Grace?’ Bev shrieks.
My legs begin to shake and I stumble, skittering forward until I grab at the hedge.
‘No, she’s not back yet… Oh my God, Grace… Which way did she—’
Wordlessly, Mike rushes past me, his face a mask of determination. He begins jogging up the road, looking into every garden he passes.
‘Lucie, come inside.’ Bev takes my arm gently.
‘No! I can’t. I have to look for her.’ I turn around full circle, scanning the road, the houses, the gardens. ‘Which way did she go?’
Bev stands at my side, an arm around my shoulders as we look up the road. ‘Mike brought her outside, then watched her go up the street towards the bend. He came in smiling, said she looked like a little soldier marching up there.’
I stare up ahead. A car crawls past, its occupants taking in our alarmed expressions with interest. A dog barks in a garden somewhere close by. My feet feel fused to the asphalt.
Mike is almost at the bend himself now.
Bev says something in a soothing tone, but all the sounds around me are starting to fade out, as if I’m drifting away.
‘I have to go. Have to look for her,’ I mumble. Breaking away from Bev’s touch, I begin to stride away.
‘I’ll get someone to watch Livvy,’ Bev calls out urgently. I can hear the strain in her voice. ‘I’ll be with you very soon.’
I try to focus on my breathing.
I put one foot in front of the other.
This can’t be happening. It just can’t.
I move up the road, looking, searching every possible place.
Grace loves animals. She might’ve stopped off to stroke a cat or a dog, or a lonely old lady might have asked her in for a chat. She’s such a gregarious, caring girl, is my Grace. She loves people, too… She’d always find the time to help someone in need.
My vision grows blurry with tears. I pull a tissue from my sleeve and look to my right, where Abbey Road branches off from Violet Road. I stumble on a few more yards and look through the gap in the houses towards Florence Road and Priory Road.
All these side roads, houses… All the hidden places Grace might be.
I stumble and grasp on to someone’s gatepost. I feel sick, dizzy… I can’t bear the terrible feelings that are rising up inside me.
What if… What if someone has taken her, is hurting her just yards from where I’m standing now? I press the heels of my hands into my temples. I can’t bear it. I can’t stand the thoughts.
‘Come on, Luce, it’s OK, we’ll find her.’ Mike appears in front of me, helps me stand upright. ‘Take a minute and just breathe. That’s it. Grace is a sensible girl, she’ll have seen someone she knows, or—’
‘She knew she had to come straight home, Mike.’ My voice is rising. ‘She knew we’d be worrying. She… Oh no, oh my God… her medication, her insulin!’
‘She had it in her pocket, Lucie,’ Mike confirms. ‘I handed it to her myself before she set off.’
That’s something. It’s something at least.
Bev reaches us, breathless from running.
‘Sue from next door is watching Livvy for an hour or two,’ she tells Mike. Then, ‘Where’s Blake?’
‘He’s twisted his ankle really badly,’ Mike says grimly. ‘It’s swelled up to twice its normal size. I’ve told him to just stay put, but he’s insisting on limping down here now.’
‘He was on his fucking phone again.’ I squeeze my fists tight and grit my teeth. ‘He should’ve been watching out for Grace.’
I see Mike and Bev glance at each other, but I don’t care. Blake is virtually surgically attached to the damn thing.
‘Your front path is really slippery with moss,’ Mike offers limply.
‘We have to ring the police,’ Bev says.
‘Blake agrees we should check the whole street first, knock on a few doors,’ Mike says. ‘It won’t take us long.’
‘But what if she’s already in a car?’ I cry out, stepping away from them. ‘We have to ring the police now, so they can put a roadblock up or—’
‘I’ll do it now.’ Bev pulls her phone out of her jeans, jabs at the screen and holds it to her ear.
Blake appears at the bend, his face twisted with pain. He leans on the park fence to get his breath.
Mike goes to him, and I stand there, staring at the street that now seems a hundred miles long with a million places Grace might be. What were we thinking of, letting her walk up alone?
Mike scales the small park fence and disappears. Blake looks at me and says something, holds out his arms, but my feet are rooted to the floor.
Bev is speaking rapidly on the phone. Giving facts, times, places, although I can’t seem to process any of it. My head is full of static, my body uselessly shaking and cold. I feel so cold.
‘Grace! Grace!’
A terrified voice screams in my ears, seeming to flood through my entire body. I see Bev’s concerned expression and I look around frantically.
But there is no one else to see because the person who is screaming, is me.
Three
People emerge from their front doors. Cautiously at first, peering out enquiringly before walking slowly, arms folded, to their gates.
They discreetly murmur the dreadful news between them, like a Chinese whisper.
But as we pass by, I hear the disjointed phrases, see the incredulous expressions and their disbelief that something like this could actually happen here, in our middle-class leafy bubble.
On our very own street.
A little girl is missing.
Walking home alone.
Everyone must search their gardens.
People spill out on to the street, spread out over the other side of the road.
&
nbsp; All eyes seem to be on me as I move frantically with Bev, knocking on doors, searching. Looking. Trying to find Grace.
Blake and Mike are over the other side of the road. Blake isn’t much use, but Mike scoots ahead, dashing up and down paths.
‘Where are the police?’ I whisper to Bev.
‘They’re on their way. Keep focusing, Lucie; we’ll find her, we will. You’re doing brilliantly.’
But I know she’s just saying it, because with every ‘no’ we get, from resident after resident, I watch my friend’s face grow a little more pale. With each shake of the head when we ask if they’ve seen a nine-year-old girl dressed in jeans and a pink coat with a red bobble hat and yellow gloves, I feel her conviction that Grace is nearby wane just a touch.
I beat back the bile rising in my throat.
We get to the park and I think about my dad and Oscar, both oblivious to what has happened to Grace.
A group of residents behind us fan out and walk in a line across the park, calling out, kicking areas of undergrowth, wet leaves. I don’t want to think about why they’re doing that.
