Malignant: a gripping psychological thriller you do not want to miss Read online

  Malignant

  Anita Waller

  Contents

  Also By Anita Waller

  Prologue

  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

  Acknowledgments

  A Note from Bloodhound Books:

  Copyright © 2018 Anita Waller

  The right of Anita Waller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Also By Anita Waller

  Psychological thrillers

  Beautiful

  Angel

  34 Days

  Strategy

  Captor

  Game Players

  Supernatural

  Winterscroft

  Praise for Anita Waller

  "Be prepared to put everything on hold when you pick up this book, for me it was a “one sitting read” a book that I could not put down." Yvonne Bastian - Me And My Books

  "Thanks for a great read Anita Waller! When is the next one out??" Rebecca Burton - If Only I Could Read Faster

  "This book has lots of gasp out loud moments and plenty that will make you a little weepy too (it did for me anyway)." Lorna Cassidy - On The Shelf Reviews

  "This is an engrossing read that I pretty much inhaled." Philomena Callan - Cheekypee Reads And Reviews

  "Waller has an amazing skill to grab you and keep you interested until the very last page." Eclectic Ramblings of Author Heather Osborne

  "WOW! ANITA HAS DONE IT AGAIN. What a bloody brilliant, outstanding, captivating story." Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club

  "This is a very gritty read...Add into the mix, the ruthlessness of the gangsters and you’ve got a cracking crime thriller." Claire Knight - A Knight's Reads

  "It has twists and turns, shocks and honestly at times I had no idea what the end would be!" Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog

  "A plot to keep you turning from beginning to end. I really enjoyed this . A captivating read ." Nicki Murphy - Nicki's Book Blog

  "... a really well written, gripping book with plenty of twists for me!" Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog

  "...building up to a tense, drama packed read. I was literally biting my nails by the end." Lorna Cassidy - On The Shelf Reviews

  "The author really keeps you on the edge of your seat – the twists made me gasp and she sets the atmosphere absolutely perfectly." Melisa Broadbent - Broadbean's Books

  "If you are looking for a crime thriller that is somewhat unnerving as it is every mothers worst nightmare, a fast paced page turner that keeps you guessing. Then I definitely recommend Captor!" Dash Fan Book Reviews

  "Captor will have you gripped from the beginning and won’t let you go until you have finished. It is a suspense filled crime thriller that will keep you guessing throughout." Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club

  "...Waller has definitely done it again and proves herself to be one of the best storytellers in the genre of murder, necessary murder, as she likes to say." Rebecca Burnton - If Only I Could Read Faster

  "Wow. what an amazing book. To say I couldn’t put it down doesn’t seem enough." Jo Turner - Life Of Crime

  "I absolutely loved this story. I was totally gripped. The twists I didn’t expect and I didn’t guess who the Captor was." Philomena Callan - Cheekypee Reads And Reviews

  "The characters were well thought out, well written and above all, believable. There is tension aplenty virtually from the opening page." Sarah Kenny - Beyond The Veil Book Blog

  "I guarantee you will not be able to put Captor to rest until finished, jam packed and stacked with everything you could desire in a criminal psychological thriller." Diane Hogg - Sweet Little Book Blog

  In memory of Alan, my only sibling.

  Loved so much.

  He would have been seventy

  on publication day,

  10 October 2018

  Alan Havenhand

  10.10.1948 – 12.05.2004

  In this life we have to make many choices. Some

  are very important choices. Some are not. Many of

  our choices are between good and evil. The choices

  we make, however, determine to a large extent our

  happiness or our unhappiness, because we have to

  live with the consequences of our choices.

  James E. Faust

  Prologue

  23 December 2010

  The coffin was small and white, the wreath on top heart shaped and pink. Friends and family had packed into the cemetery chapel, all wearing something white in honour of the tiny child inside the coffin. Claudia and James Bell, along with their two other children, Harry and Zoe, followed the coffin down the short aisle, then sat on the left, ushered to their places by the funeral director. Their faces reflected their emotions; horror, disbelief, loss.

  The death of the baby had caused family fragmentation. Claudia held onto her husband’s arm, struggling to cope. Zoe clung to his other arm, and Harry just stared ahead of him; twenty years of life wasn’t long enough to have prepared him for this. Zoe, three years younger than her brother, had fallen apart, unable to comprehend that death could arrive and take someone so young, so tiny. Their plan for a special Christmas with Mum and Dad’s brand-new baby was in ruins, and almost without thinking about it, Harry recognised they would never have a good Christmas again. Baby Ella Mae would always be there as a Christmas memory, re-gluing the broken Bell family.

  They had asked James if he wanted to carry the coffin, but he accepted it was out of the question. He knew he would be physically holding up his wife and his daughter. The funeral directors had agreed, and one perfectly attired gentleman had walked down the aisle in front of them, carrying the tiny white box with its spray of pink roses atop.

  The service was, quite simply, a blur. They heard nothing, remembered nothing, and when told to do so, followed the coffin outside where it was replaced in the hearse and transported to the children’s area of the cemetery.

  They exited their funeral car, and Claudia noticed other parents tending the graves of their children; she whimpered. This would be the life she would share with them from now on.

  ‘No,’ she moaned, and James held her close. She felt the milk leaking from her breasts, milk that hadn’t begun to dry up yet. Two days, that was all they had been given with their baby before she slipped away. But Claudia’s body didn’t know about that
, and milk production was in full flow.

  They gathered around the empty grave, the Bell family clutching onto their white roses, just as everyone standing around was holding onto theirs. The coffin was lowered; the parents Claudia had noticed earlier stopped what they were doing to pay their respect to the tiny body being laid to rest. In her mind, she acknowledged their thoughtfulness as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

  Heather, Claudia’s friend, stepped forward as the vicar finished his part of the ceremony and read the poem she and Claudia had chosen, amidst many tears. Heather’s cheeks were flushed, and all she wanted to do was hold her best friend, hold her until the tears stopped. She began to speak, and the crowd fell silent.

  ‘The world may never notice if a snowdrop doesn't bloom,

  Or even pause to wonder if the petals fall too soon.

  But every life that ever forms,

  Or ever comes to be,

  Touches the world in some small way

  For all eternity.

  The little one we longed for

  Was swiftly here and gone.

  But the love that was then planted is a light that still shines on.

  And though our arms are empty,

  Our hearts know what to do.

  For every beating of our hearts

  Says that we love you.’

  Claudia and James, holding hands with their grown-up children, moved forward and threw their roses down onto the coffin. Heather, still standing by the graveside, threw hers down to join them, and slowly the crowd added theirs. The tiny white coffin was smothered in the heady perfume of the roses, and gradually everyone made their way back to their homes and to their own Christmas preparations.

  There was no wake; the Bell family returned to their home, and Heather and Owen Gower returned to theirs. The couples had lived next door to each other for many years, but they hadn’t had to deal with anything like this before.

  The Christmas tree had been taken down in the Bell house; nobody wanted Christmas. The baby had been due on Christmas Day but had arrived a week early on the seventeenth; she had been taken from them two days later.

  The tree and cards had already been in place for a couple of weeks, but the evening baby Ella left them, James and Claudia returned to their home and packed away every bit of Christmas.

  The house looked as empty as their hearts; all four sat and stared at the flames of the log burner, unaware of whether they felt warm or cold, and grieved for the infant.

  Their own Christmas child.

  1

  1 April 2017

  Claudia Bell was unsettled, at odds with herself, feeling not quite right. She didn’t truly know why she felt as she did; she had a job she enjoyed as office manager at a large haulage company, her social life was as okay as she needed it to be, she didn’t look anywhere near forty-four, and her kids were well and happily residing with partners of their own.

  And yet she felt out of sorts, a little adrift. She eased her legs out of bed and stretched. Glancing at her bedside clock, Claudia registered that it said 08:10 and she ran to the bathroom. Maybe she shouldn’t have given in to the enticing snooze button on her alarm.

  Claudia hated having to rush to get to work, and while in the shower reflected that it might have been better if she’d got up when James had, at seven. She was just grateful that she worked in the same area of Sheffield that she lived in and didn’t have to do the manic cross-city rush hour thing every morning and evening.

  She dried her short dark hair and frowned at her image in the mirror. The hair looked a bit wispy, the make-up a bit sparse. Running repairs would have to be done at work, and not for the first time.

  Jumping in the car, carrying a travel mug of coffee and a slice of toast, Claudia arrived with two minutes to spare, breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘Morning,’ she said, and received a chorus of mornings back.

  Her small office was in the corner of the main large open-plan space, and she was taking her coat off as she went through the doorway. She winced as the sleeve dragged against a sore spot at the back of her shoulder, and once again vowed to ask James to have a look and see if he could see anything.

  She switched on her computer and settled down to work.

  As the day wore on, she began to unwind. It was an easy day; there had been no breakdowns, no late loads, and no arguments between colleagues Fiona and Sara. Sara going out with Fiona’s ex, one of their drivers, hadn’t helped with harmony in the workplace, but it had been a good day. Claudia’s equilibrium had gone some way towards being restored.

  She gave Sara a lift home, and not a word was mentioned about the magnificent Baz; Claudia thought it best not to say his name, hoping the super-stud would quickly tire of Sara, just as he had tired of Fiona. Peace would then be brokered; Baz could return to being a footloose and fancy-free driver with a girl in every port and loading bay, and his two paramours could renew their lost friendship.

  Lights were on at home, and Claudia pulled her car in behind James’s Sportage, smiling as she always did at the sight of her Fiesta parked near the back of his much larger vehicle. To her, it looked as though the Sportage had given birth to her little car; both sharing the same colour, a deep navy, created the illusion.

  She swung her bag onto her shoulder and winced again as the strap rubbed across the sore spot. She really needed to remember it hurt when touched by anything, she grumbled to herself.

  James opened the front door before she got to it. ‘I need to go out.’

  She sighed. She could do without arguments. ‘Okay. I’ll move it.’

  She put her bag on the doorstep and walked back to her car. Putting it in reverse, she guided it carefully back down the drive, mindful of him probably watching her and preparing his sarcastic comments, and steered the car out onto the road. She parked it by the kerbside, locked it up and headed back to the house.

  The door was closed but her bag was still on the doorstep. Again, she sighed. She hoped he was going out soon, and she could settle on the sofa with a book and anything grossly fattening she could find.

  She opened the door, and the smell of bacon permeated the house. She took off her coat, careful to avoid the sore spot, and hung it in the cloakroom, then headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Bacon?’

  ‘Yes, just grabbed the first thing I found really,’ James said, not bothering to look at her. ‘I’ve got to be in Leeds by seven. If the meeting goes on late, and there’s alcohol involved, I’ll probably stay over. If not, I’ll be home later. I’ll let you know.’

  ‘What’s the meeting about?’

  ‘The official line is bringing more young people into the party, but as soon as Jeremy became leader, that happened anyway. I think the idea now is to educate the youngsters, let them see what a political career can offer them.’

  James worked for the Labour party and took his job seriously. Much more seriously than he took his relationship with his wife, she thought, moving to stand by his side.

  ‘Before you go, can you just have a look at my shoulder, please?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’d like you to look at it. It’s sore. Is it a rash?’

  She heard him tut, and thought he was going to refuse, but he stood, and she peeled back the neckline of her sweater, exposing her upper right arm and shoulder area.

  He cast a quick glance. ‘Can’t see anything.’

  ‘James!’

  He had a closer look, and hesitated. ‘Yes, there’s a sort of blister. It looks like a small grape. A really small grape. It’s a bit inflamed around it, but I assume that’s your sweater rubbing on it. You want me to put a plaster over it?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it’s been bothering me for a couple of weeks. I’ll make an appointment with the doctor. It probably needs removing.’

  He made no further comment, left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Claudia watched him go, then turned and opened the fridge.

  It seemed pointless cooking a
meal for one, and she too brought out the bacon, with little enthusiasm. The bread bin proved to be empty; James had used the last two breadcakes. She put the bacon back in the fridge, took out a yoghurt, and wandered into the lounge.

  She heard him come downstairs, open the front door, and then close it. The next sound was the car engine and she knew that really, their marriage was one huge sham. For years she had ignored the coldness for the sake of the children, but now both Harry and Zoe had left home, Harry to live with his partner Emma, and Zoe to share her life with husband David.

  So, what was keeping Claudia here? Not loyalty. She felt she owed him nothing. The bruises were testament to that. Security? She could have security on her own. And it certainly wasn’t for conversation; he couldn’t even say goodbye as he left the house any more.

  Fear. That was keeping her rooted to this house. Fear of his anger, his quickness to raise his hand, whether threatening or hitting her. She shook her head. She would be happy later; she knew he wasn’t coming home. There would be alcohol, so he would stay in Leeds; he wouldn’t risk his driving licence. To him, his job was too important.