Secrets and Lies: A Collection of Heart-stopping Psychological Thrillers by M K Farrar

Author:M K Farrar [Farrar, M K]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: stand alone, boxed set, collection, domestic noir, thriller, women's crime
Publisher: Warwick House Press
Published: 2020-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Morning dawned, bright and hot.

She’d had a restless night’s sleep and woke with numb limbs and a back that felt like it was going to go into spasms at any moment. Her eyes were gritty, and she struggled to open them fully. Every inch of her exposed skin was raised in bumps from mosquito bites. Her head felt too heavy for her neck, as though her brain had turned to concrete inside her skull. She couldn’t even swallow, the feeling stirring fluttery panic inside her.

There hadn’t been any further signs of whatever had been crashing around in the undergrowth during the night, and Cass hoped that meant whatever the creature was, it had been frightened away by the scent of human and would leave her alone from now on.

Forty-eight hours had passed since she’d been taken—two days—such a small amount of time in some ways, and yet it felt like a lifetime to her now. She’d had a life before this wood, an existence that hadn’t included the tree, or the clearing in front of her, or the dead man’s body, which was now definitely starting to smell. Flies buzzed around the body, alighting on every inch of exposed skin and crawling over his clothing. Everything felt foggy and distant, and though she needed to wake and get on with trying to free herself, she couldn’t summon the energy. She couldn’t even cry, too dehydrated to create tears.

“You have to get up.”

The female voice came from her left and sounded incredibly real.

“You can’t give up now,” said another woman, this one younger, not much more than a girl.

Then a third woman spoke. “You’ll die if you just sit there. Is that what you want? To end up like us?”

Cass managed to lift her head, squinting in the direction of the voices. Everything was blurry, but she blinked a couple of times, clearing her vision.

Three women stood in a semi-circle.

The one to Cass’s furthest left was beautiful, with long dark hair and alabaster skin, like a modern Snow White. The girl beside her was gorgeous, too, but in a completely opposite way—blonde and tan, with fuller cheeks and pink lips. The epitome of the all-American girl. The cheerleader, what had her name been...?

“Becky Dawson,” the blonde filled in for her. “I was his second kill.”

“Yes, of course, sorry,” Cass replied, shaking her head.

A third woman stood beside the next grave along. She was older, in her early to mid-thirties, and had light brown hair, cut in a sharp bob at her jawline. She was the one who’d spoken last, telling Cass she’d end up just like them if she continued to sit there. The third woman’s name came to her—Susie Banks, the one doing the law degree, who’d tried to talk her way out of the Magician killing her.

Each of the women stood beside the spots where they’d been buried. None made any attempt to approach her, and Cass wondered if they were able to move, or if they were somehow attached to their final resting places, the same way she was attached to this fucking tree.

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