Finding Grace

by K.L. Slater

Genres: Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

This morning, my daughter sat right here, munching her breakfast, too excited to finish it. Now, she is missing. The day after her ninth birthday, Lucie and Blake Sullivan agree, for the very first time, to let their daughter, Grace, make the four-minute walk back home alone from a friend’s house just down the street. They joke with friends about hiding behind bushes to ensure she is safe. But the joke turns sour when Grace does not appear. Despite the best efforts of the police and local community, Grace seems to have vanished into thin air. With hope fading fast, Lucie knows she can rely on her husband to support her through such dark times. That is until the day she makes a shocking discovery, hidden in Blake’s desk, and suddenly she begins to doubt everything she knew about the man she married. But Lucie harbours a terrible secret of her own. One that she has never shared with anyone, even Blake … And as the search for Grace reaches fever pitch, Lucie receives a terrifying message. If she is ever to see Grace again, Lucie has no choice but to face the past she tried hard to bury forever. And she must do it alone. The most gripping psychological thriller you’ll read this year from the bestselling author K.L. Slater. If you love The Wife Between Us or Gone Girl, you’ll be totally hooked on Finding Grace. What everyone is saying about Finding Grace : ‘ An absolute scorcher!! K.L. Slater has truly outdone herself with her newest story Finding Grace, and I'm already having a feeling it will appear on my list of 2019 favourites... Such suspense! Such twists! If you like nailbitingly good psychological thrillers that keep you on the edge of your seat, look no further because you have found something new to read. I literally cancelled all plans, sat down and devoured Finding Grace in one sitting. Yes, it was just THAT good.. Plot twist bomb after plot twist bomb will be dropped on you as you get more tangled up in the web of secrets and lies.. Finding Grace ticked all the boxes for me and more, and I can 200% recommend it to any fan of the genre. It's simply a must-read!’ It’s All About Books, Five Stars ‘I love how the author has you pointing the finger at so many people… Finding Grace has plenty of twists and turns with some shocking outcomes. The suspense and tension literally jumps out from every page, keeping the reader alert and on edge throughout. An O to the M to the G of a read!’ By the Letter Book Reviews, Five stars ‘Simply full on from the word go… enough twists and turns to keep you guessing right up to the final page …This is a novel that grabs hold and simply does not let go. I could not turn the pages fast enough to discover what had happened to Grace on a seemingly safe and familiar walk through her own neighbourhood’ Goodreads reviewer, Five stars. ‘Just outstanding!!!! I read this book so quickly as I really couldn’t put it down, every time I did I found myself gravitating back to my kindle just to read a little bit more. It’s written in such a way that keeps you guessing and turning the pages want to know more as the tension builds …a very clever book full of twists and turns, entertaining, absorbing and a damn good read what more can you ask ..just read it !!’ Goodreads Reviewer ‘ Another great on the edge of your seat book by this author!! Great book all around. Enjoyed all the characters and the twists. Keep them coming K.L Slater, we will be waiting!! ’ Goodreads Reviewer ‘Finding Grace is definitely a great way to start the year with a bang. Well written, intriguing, suspenseful, complex and nailbitingly good : oh yes, say hello to my very first 5 star read of the year!' Goodreads Reviewer, Five Stars

Release date: February 14, 2019

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

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 Grace? 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.

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.

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.

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.

I stand at the fence, my wild eyes scanning the sparse trees that edge the grassed area for a pink coat, a red hat.

We came here last August, in the final few days of the school summer break, when I was about six months pregnant: me and Grace, Bev and Livvy. We packed up a simple picnic, which made us all laugh as we were still effectively on our own road.

We spread out a tartan blanket, and we had the best afternoon sitting in the sun putting the world to rights: debating whether Mike would get his long-awaited promotion to national sales manager of the high-end kitchen manufacturer he works for; whether the community would get behind new councillor Blake; and most importantly, what sex the new baby might be.

The girls played happily around us, weaving in and out of the trees and hiding from both us and each other.

That was barely six months ago, and I hadn’t a care in the world.

All I had to fret about was a dinner Blake wanted to host at home for the people who had helped run his campaign. And I can remember worrying whether, having left a shopping trip a bit late, I was going to get Grace her new school uniform in time.

I’m aware of the noise level increasing behind me, a flurry of movement responding to authoritative voices. But I can’t break the spell.

I stand and stare at the spot where we picnicked, and something writhes up from the bottom of my stomach. I retch and vomit at the side of the fence.

‘Sorry,’ I mutter, mortified with myself. ‘Sorry, I…’

‘Lucie?’ Bev touches my arm. ‘The police are here.’

I turn to see two police cars behind us. Mike is helping a limping Blake across the road and back over towards us. Bev steps forward and identifies herself as the person who called in ‘the incident’, as the policeman refers to it.

She moves next to Mike, but I watch as she reaches out to Blake, grasping his hand. They don’t say anything, just look at each other, and I can almost see the pain radiating between them.

A police van pulls up and a platoon of uniformed officers emerge, their faces grim and focused. Their uniforms are dark; most of their faces are white. They all look the same, like a small army drafted in to help.

I feel frozen, as if I’m standing on a flimsy platform of ice that could give way at any moment. I just can’t move.

I watch, my throat burning with stomach acid, as Mike and Blake join Bev in talking to the officers. They all turn and glance at me, then look back at each other and nod.

I bring the cuff of my sweatshirt up to my mouth and blot my vomit-spotted mouth.

Blake limps over, envelops me. His arms feel cold, unyielding. I want him to stop holding me, but I can’t find the strength to push him away.

He looks at me, his eyes pleading, his face impossibly pale and drawn.

‘They want us to get into the police car, Luce. They’re going to take us home.’

‘No,’ I say with steely determination. ‘I’m not going home without Grace.’

‘We have fifteen officers out here looking for her and carrying out door-to-door inquiries, Mrs Sullivan.’ The uniformed officer looks young, as if he’s just finished university. ‘And most of the local community are out too, by the looks of it. If Grace is here, we will find her.’

If. He said if Grace is here.

Blake reaches for my hand, grips it so I can’t easily slip away. He starts to lead me to the police car, but I stand firm.

‘And if she’s not here, what does that mean? Someone has taken her into a house, or driven her away in a car?’ I can’t dampen down the panic that’s filling my chest. ‘She could be on the motorway by now. She could be anywhere!’

Suddenly I’m wailing. Pushing concerned hands away. My face is wet with tears and I’m coughing so hard it feels like I’ll rupture my windpipe.

I can’t do it. I can’t leave this place until I find Grace.

People surround me, in a supportive but firm manner. We’re all moving together. Hands on my back, my shoulders. Words of reassurance murmured in my ears.

I feel weak with desperation, with rage. Sound and movement flicker in and out of my circle of attention like an ebbing tide. None of this feels real. None of this can be happening… It just can’t.

I’m sitting down in a soft seat. I’m in the police car, and Blake slides in next to me. Doors are slammed, concerned faces line up outside the window.

An engine starts, purrs as the car starts to move.

We’re going home. Just Blake and me, without our little girl.

Without our precious Grace.

Before: Saturday afternoon

I stood by the riding school practice field, watching as my daughter’s party guests paraded past us parents.

I could hardly believe Grace had turned nine today. The years had passed in a blur, like a long car journey where people and buildings seemed to merge together and lose their sharp detail as you watched them from the window.

My Grace was bright, clever and kind. Our world turned on her smile, and seeing her happy was as vital to me as the air I breathed.

I took a step back from the fence and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air mixed with damp earth and the unmistakable aroma of horse manure and hay. Grace had left ball ponds and bouncy castle parties behind a while ago; yet another sign she was growing up fast.

I smiled and waved as she trotted past on her sleek black horse, side by side with her best friend, Olivia. Both girls were perched perfectly on their placid mares. Grace’s eight other young invited guests followed in procession, supervised by the two riding school staff.

My dad had offered to look after Grace’s baby brother, Oscar. Dad suffered from emphysema, the legacy of working in a chemical factory for nearly forty years. He put in the requisite claim after being hounded by legal companies hungry for a cut, and after nigh on two years of wrangling, he did receive a modest payout. But nothing to compensate for the restricted quality of life he now endured.

Of all the variables that could affect his health, cold weather was the worst. He could barely walk a few steps these days before he was gasping for air. So when Grace begged for a riding party, I knew Dad would struggle to attend.

Little Oscar was just getting over a bad cold himself, and when Dad suggested, quite rightly, that he was better off staying wrapped up warm at home while we celebrated at Grace’s party, Blake and I both readily agreed.

Life had been busy for us, especially since Oscar came along unexpectedly, and to be honest, we’d both thought it would be nice for us to focus on Grace for a few hours on her special day.

It sounded trite, but I did feel blessed. Two gorgeous kids and a husband who cared deeply about us all; it was honestly far more than I ever expected for myself. The empty black space inside myself felt soothed, even if it could never be fully healed.

The horses circled again, and this time as Grace passed us, she turned slightly, her face animated with joy. The energy and passion for her beloved riding buzzed around her like an aura as she paraded in front of us, her friends and family.

A delicious sweet scent distracted me, and when I turned around, I saw that Blake was standing there holding up two steaming mugs of hot chocolate like trophies.

‘There we go. And before you ask’ – he extended one towards me, his soft brown eyes twinkling with mischief – ‘I didn’t put any marshmallows in yours, so there are hardly any calories in it.’

I grinned and accepted the mug gratefully. I didn’t mention that I’d seen the owner of the stables making the hot chocolate with full-cream Jersey milk before we went outside. I was probably about to consume an entire day’s points in the next few minutes, but after the first tiny sip, I knew it was going to be worth it.

I’d joined an online slimming club a couple of months ago. Apart from the odd blip, I’d managed to stick to my diet, and to date, I’d lost nearly a stone. Blake had been really supportive, as he knew how steadily piling on weight over the last few years had badly affected my already flaky self-confidence.

Over the past months, I’d watched as Blake became more and more absorbed in his work. When we were invited to a black-tie ball at the Council House after Christmas, I felt a bit nervous, as I didn’t know anyone there. If I’m honest, I thought about making an excuse.

‘It doesn’t matter that you won’t know anyone.’ Blake had swiftly dismissed my fears. ‘I’ll introduce you to everyone, and besides, I want them all to meet my amazing wife. You have to come. No excuses.’

I’d expected low-key, but when we got there, I’d been surprised how much effort the other female guests had put into their dresses, make-up and hair.

I’d been forced to buy a new dress because I simply couldn’t comfortably fit into the two or thre. . .