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Don’t Say a Word: A gripping psychological thriller from the author of The Good Mother
A. L. Bird
’A fast-paced, gripping thriller.’ B A Paris, bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors and The Breakdown'Intense and brilliantly uncomfortable reading' Lisa Hall, bestselling author of Between You and Me A happy child.Every parent knows the world can be scary. Lawyer Jen Sutton knows it better than most. And she’ll go to any length to protect her son from what – and who – lies outside their front door.A loving mother.Some might say she’s being overprotective. But isn’t it a mother’s duty to protect her child from harm?A family built on a lie.Jen has kept her secrets safe. Until the postcard arrives, signed by the one person she hoped would never catch up with her… and her new case begins to feel a little too close to home.One thing is clear: Jen has been found. Now, she faces a choice. Run, and lose everything? Or fight – and risk her son discovering the truth.Don’t Say a Word is the electrifying new psychological thriller from A.L. Bird – perfect for fans of C.L. Taylor and Sue Fortin.‘An absolutely jaw dropper and a must read for all.’ – Karen Whittard, Netgalley reviewer‘Readers hear claim that, “This book will leaving you guessing until the end.” I am glad to say that, for once, the claim is true.’ – M Scott, Netgalley reviewer‘Kept me up all night.‘ – Kathleen Johnson, Netgalley reviewer‘The psychological tension ramps up to a plot twist that took me completely by surprise.’ – Avonna Kershey, Netgalley reviewer‘Wow! A well deserved 5 stars, one of the best pyschological fiction books of this year so far!’ – Julia Beales, Netgalley reviewer‘One you get towards the end you better hope you’re not needed for anything because you will find yourself glued until the last word.’ – Tara Sheehan, Netgalley reviewer‘Impossible to put down.’ – Linda Strong, Netgalley reviewer‘A pacy, action-packed, brilliantly plotted psychological thriller with one hell of a showdown. I absolutely loved it!’ – Diane Jeffrey, author of Those Who Lie
A happy child.
Every parent knows the world can be scary. Lawyer Jen Sutton knows it better than most. And she’ll go to any length to protect her son from what – and who – lies outside their front door.
A loving mother.
Some might say she’s being over-protective. But isn’t it a mother’s duty to protect her child from harm?
A family built on a lie.
Jen has kept her secrets safe. Until the postcard arrives, signed by the one person she hoped would never catch up with her… and her new case begins to feel a little too close to home.
One thing is clear: Jen has been found.
Now, she faces a choice. Run, and lose everything? Or fight – and risk her son discovering the truth.
Don’t Say a Word is the electrifying new psychological thriller from AL Bird, perfect for fans of CL Taylor and Sue Fortin.
Don’t Say a Word
A. L. Bird
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
Cover (#ue4de47c9-5e58-5b77-8fe6-3de24937afca)
Blurb (#ucffefe05-a821-5400-beef-08cadc1c2b61)
Title Page (#ua106179f-23b5-5fa4-a50d-54333d753a45)
Author Bio (#ufaa66fab-9619-5411-a211-d4d30167040b)
Acknowledgements (#u95e5d886-d62a-546d-adca-30ed727463cf)
Prologue (#ulink_4f541325-7f44-58a0-a9d5-265f4f654f8b)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_45a56fb5-45e5-514a-bf52-b3d16214f585)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_9499be67-99cd-5d74-a9e6-66196cddb343)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_68fbbd4b-313b-5703-b639-663688996e66)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_1c9253f9-47e2-58c5-b283-52956736f6b9)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_f9b93482-c38e-5989-9aec-254938003d25)
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Copyright (#ulink_85662842-f3d8-5718-b679-17dc3c0067b4)
A. L. BIRD
lives in London, where she divides her time between writing and working as a lawyer. In 2016, she released her major psychological thriller The Good Mother, and she returns to the genre with Don’t Say a Word. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Birkbeck, University of London, and is also an alumna of the Faber Academy ‘Writing a Novel’ course. Amy is a member of the Crime Writers’ Association. For updates on her writing follow her on Twitter, @ALBirdwriter.
I remain hugely grateful to everyone who has helped bring this novel – and those before it – into the world.
My long-time editor Clio Cornish, whose encouragement, honesty and insight gets those first drafts into shape; my stalwart agent Amanda Preston of LBA for those flashes of creative genius that can really draw a book together; my husband for tolerating all the late-night plot conundrums (and to both him and my son for providing the light outside the dark world of thrillers); to the bloggers and readers who cheered me on – who knew how much the occasional tweet could do for a writer’s day! – your support means so much to me. Thank you.
I’d also like to mention a couple of the many charities who do valuable and important work in the worlds where Jen finds herself: Centrepoint, who give homeless young people a future; and Refuge, who support women and children against domestic violence. This novel may impact readers’ minds – their work can save people’s lives.
Prologue (#ulink_82d9cb55-906e-5e26-a6e4-198438484d76)
The doorbell rings. Josh runs towards it.
‘No, wait, sweetie, remember!’ I shout after him.
‘It’s fine, Mum, it’ll just be the postman!’
‘No, Josh, let me!’
I run up behind him. But he’s already taking off the chain, opening the door. Please let it be the postman.
Yes, it is. False alarm. I see the retreating uniform of a blue shirt and baseball cap. Stop, beating heart. Not every morning is a drama. I kiss Josh on the forehead.
‘OK, Josh, it was the postman. But next time it might not be, all right? So let me open the door.’
I lead us back to the kitchen to resume breakfast-making activities, musing at how, even in a situation like this one, ten-year-olds can find post so engrossing – no bills to pay, I guess.
But then I realize Josh isn’t following. I turn round.
His face is white.
‘You’ve got a postcard,’ he says. ‘From Chloe Brown.’
The peanut butter jar drops from my hand.
‘Josh, let me see.’
He hands me the postcard, wide-eyed.
Yes, there’s the name. Chloe Brown. Printed clearly, so there’s no mistaking it. The message just says: ‘See you soon.’
I turn over to the picture. It’s a small boy, on a bike. My stomach twists. I flip back to the name again. And that’s when I see. There’s a stamp, but no postmark. Where the postmark should be, it’s written: ‘By hand.’
‘Mum, I don’t think it was really the postman. I think it was …’ He trails off.
We both know who it was. And that Josh isn’t safe.
Chapter 1 (#ulink_fa530be3-3ee7-513b-a5e1-1e829a0fe063)
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
This is me. I should probably stop telling myself this now. But those old habits, they’re tricky to shake, right?
Brush brush brush. This is me. Brush brush brush. Jen Sutton. Maybe I should focus on my teeth a bit more, less on the life reminders. Perhaps that would stop the hygienist telling me off – ‘You must brush near the gum, Ms Sutton. See how easily I can make your teeth bleed.’ If she knew how much trouble it had taken to register for that surgery, the time I had to wait, the rigmarole … Well, perhaps she wouldn’t be so gleeful when the blood oozes out. Just give me and Josh a sticker and get on with it.
‘Mum!’ There’s a yell from outside the bathroom. ‘Where’s my swimming stuff?’
Oh shit. Of course. Tuesday. Swimming.
Spit the toothpaste into the sink and jam my toothbrush into the jar next to Josh’s. Another win for the plaque.
‘I’ll just get it, sweetie!’
Quickly spritz on some scent. Then: swimming stuff, swimming stuff … I could berate Josh, tell him he should have reminded me, that he’s old enough now to sort it out for himself. But no. I’m not being that mother. Josh will feel secure and loved and nurtured always. And him being ten now, all it means is, ten years since … Well obviously. Then.
The woman I try not to think about.
Deep breath. It’s OK. She can’t get us here.
