Follow Me: A chilling, thrilling, addictive crime novel by Angela Clarke

Author:Angela Clarke [Clarke, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780008160838
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

IRL – In Real Life

15:37

Tuesday 3 November

2 FOLLOWING 102,005 FOLLOWERS

The walls of Sophie Phillips’ bedroom were painted lavender. A dressing table, with a mirror and a small wicker basket of cosmetics on it, had a plastic purple stool tucked underneath. Stencilled dark purple butterflies flew round the headboard of the double bed. Resting on top of the lilac duvet, her hands in the lap of her white dress, her blonde hair splayed out on the matching lilac pillow, her delicate pixie face almost smiling, her ginger eyelashes dusting her cheeks, was Sophie Phillips; she looked like she could be sleeping. The white arrow of her chin jutted slightly up, as if a lover had tilted her head to kiss her. Freddie took in the tinge to the girl’s skin, spreading up as if from the duvet, wrapping round her neck, like an amethyst necklace of bruises. Instinctively Freddie put her hand to her own throat.

‘The pathologist says it’s likely she was drugged first. Then strangled. No sign of a struggle,’ Tibbsy was saying. Freddie thought of the mug on the draining board.

‘Is this how she was found?’ Nas crouched next to the bed. Her chocolate eyes peering over her mask at the body.

‘Yes.’ Moast crouched the other side of the bed. The knees of his suit pulling tight. Had he been comfort eating?

‘Very summery dress, for November,’ Nas said. ‘Purple-painted toenails. Matching fingernails. It was obviously a favourite colour. What do you think, Freddie, would you wear a dress like this at this time of year?’ She looked up at her, her face almost absurdly beautiful given the setting.

Freddie swallowed, tried to tear her eyes away from the bruises on Sophie’s neck. Her suit rustled. ‘It’s cold in here, especially with all these windows open, so, no.’ She looked round the room, forcing herself to concentrate. ‘Purple dressing gown on the back of the door. Slipper socks under the bed. Is that a hot-water bottle propped against the wardrobe? It’s cold.’

‘Are you thinking he could have dressed her in it after?’ Moast said, resting a gloved hand on the floor to peer under the bed.

‘Possible. It does feel very ritualistic,’ Nas said.

Freddie shuddered. Closing her eyes, she could already see the body of Sophie Phillips floating there before her.

‘Do we have a time of death, guv?’ Tibbsy was poking the end of his biro into the basket of Sophie’s make-up on the dresser.

‘They’ll confirm after the post-mortem, but the pathologist reckons somewhere in the last 24-48 hours based on rigor,’ Moast said. ‘If it’d been any warmer, she would have started to decompose.’

Freddie felt the floor buckle. Oh, Sophie.

‘Okay, Venton?’ Moast looked at her, his stance steadfast.

‘Yes. Sorry. It’s just…’

‘Need a minute?’ He stepped toward her, hands by his side.

She wouldn’t pass out. ‘No.’ Freddie concentrated on slowing her breath. If they could all stand there then so could she. She would show Moast she really cared. She would help. ‘If it was yesterday morning, I mean if that’s when it happened, then it can’t have been long after the first few tweets.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.