The Burying Place by Vicky Jones

Author:Vicky Jones [Jones, Vicky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hackney and Jones
Published: 2020-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

“I have no idea where she is now. Why does that even matter?” The Gardener replied. He stood up and began pacing the stone floor of the lighthouse basement. “The Therapist took care of all of that. We didn’t ask any more questions.”

“But you must know?” Amanda pushed, her calm façade beginning to crack. The Nurse watched her, as did The Teacher.

“I think it’s about time you told your story, Daughter,” The Nurse said in an even tone. “You think we haven’t worked out why you’re here?”

Amanda’s mouth went dry.

“We knew who you were as soon as you walked in. We saw you on the telly. The Teacher said, didn’t he? We don’t use names here. Usually. But there’s something about you that seems a bit strange. You say you met The Therapist when you were going off the rails and your mother said she’d stop your allowance if you didn’t go?”

“Yes,” Amanda whispered.

“Is that why you wanted her to go missing?”

Amanda felt as if the air had been sucked completely out of the room. All eyes fixed on her. Before she could answer, a door in the corner of the room opened wide.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Amanda?” growled the tall, well-built figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing a dark hoodie and black combat pants. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with thick black hair and a square jaw. His forehead was creased with deep lines as his face frowned at Amanda. The aura of a young frightened girl that had sat meekly at the table for the last two nights seemed to evaporate. Left behind was a cold stillness visible in the person everyone was now staring at, a sense of pure malevolence now pouring out of Amanda Walker.

“Nice to see you again,” she purred. “I didn’t realise you were the keyholder here. Nice cover.”

“What’s going on here?” The Gardener demanded.

The Therapist saw nobody else in the room other than Amanda. His stillness seemed incongruous to the rage and confusion displayed on his face.

“Daughter’s one of our group, now,” The Nurse said, looking at The Teacher and The Gardener. She frowned. “Isn’t she?”

“No, she fucking isn’t,” The Therapist hissed.

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