The Night She Dies, page 1
Praise for Sarah Clarke
‘Suspenseful, claustrophobic with more twists and turns than a black run. I loved it.’
Katy Brent, author of How to Kill Men and Get Away With It
‘A fast-paced tale of revenge where no one can be trusted, all set against a glamorous snowy backdrop and with some brilliant twists. Loved it.’
Catherine Cooper, bestselling author of The Chalet
‘A tense and twisty thriller that keeps you guessing.’
Nikki Smith, author of The Beach Party
‘A clever, slick and chilling read, I found myself glued to the pages and suspicious of everyone right up to the heart-racing denouement. Clarke is at the top of her game!’
A.A. Chaudhuri, author of The Final Party
‘An explosive revenge thriller packed with enough twists and turns to leave you breathless – I love it!’
Mira Shah, author of Her
‘A pacy, chilling, claustrophobic thriller … revenge, suspense, tension and some completely unexpected twists thrown in for après ski … I devoured it!’
Diane Jeffrey, author of The Other Couple
‘With its brilliantly atmospheric setting and cast of duplicitous characters, The Ski Trip keeps you in its icy grip until the very last page.’
Sarah J Naughton, bestselling author of The Mothers
‘A lightning-paced thriller about revenge and keeping your enemies close.’
Woman’s Own
‘An intensely gripping thriller, with astute characterisation, a cleverly woven plot that keeps you guessing all the way, and a story that is both suspenseful and moving. A hugely satisfying read.’
Philippa East, author of Little White Lies
‘Sarah delivers such a smart and beautifully taut novel in My Perfect Friend. Full of intrigue and delicious betrayal. Just how I like my thrillers.’
L.V. Matthews, author of The Twins
‘A gripping read, exposing the dark lies at the heart of a supposedly perfect life. Pacy, with well-drawn characters you care about. The perfect thriller!’
Louise Mumford, author of The Hotel
‘An incredibly tense psychological thriller that grips you from the very first page. The suspense is utterly breathtaking.’
Victoria Dowd, author of The Smart Woman’s Guide to Murder
‘A carefully crafted, clever novel with plenty of twists, suspense and red herrings. A sparkling and satisfying read.’
Diane Jeffrey, author of The Silent Friend
‘A dark and clever thriller that kept me turning the pages late into the night.’
Sophie Flynn, author of All My Lies
About the Author
SARAH CLARKE is a writer living in South West London with her husband, children and stubbornly cheerful cockapoo. Over twenty years, Sarah has built a successful career as a marketing copywriter, but her dream has always been to become a published author. Sarah graduated from the Faber Academy Writing A Novel course in 2019 and her debut novel A Mother Never Lies published in 2021. Sarah has continued to write bestselling psychological thrillers and The Night She Dies is her fifth novel.
Also by Sarah Clarke
A Mother Never Lies
UK
US
Every Little Secret
UK
US
My Perfect Friend
UK
US
The Ski Trip
UK
US
The Night She Dies
SARAH CLARKE
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperCollinsPublishers
Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper,
Dublin 1 D01 C9W8
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2024
Copyright © Sarah Clarke 2024
Sarah Clarke asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © September 2024 ISBN: 9780008608491
Version: 2024-04-10
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise for Sarah Clarke
About the Author
Also by Sarah Clarke
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Note to Readers
Prologue
Before: Monday 15th April, Jess
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
Before: Friday 19th April, Jess
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Rachel
Before: Sunday 28th April, Jess
The Night She Dies: Saturday 4th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 4th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 4th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 4th May, Rachel
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to Det Supt Bishop
After: Monday 6th May, Rachel
Before: Wednesday 1st May, Jess
After: Tuesday 7th May, Rachel
After: Tuesday 7th May, Rachel
After: Wednesday 8th May, Rachel
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to Det Supt Bishop
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Jess
After: Wednesday 8th May, Rachel
After: Wednesday 8th May, Rachel
After: Wednesday 8th May, Rachel
After: Wednesday 8th May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Jess
After: Thursday 9th May, Rachel
After: Thursday 9th May, Rachel
After: Friday 10th May, Rachel
After: Friday 10th May, Rachel
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to DCI Bishop
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Jess
After: Friday 10th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 11th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 11th May, Rachel
After: Saturday 11th May, Rachel
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to Det Supt Bishop
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
Two Years, Two Months Before: Thursday 24th February 2022, Jess
Two Years, Two Months Before: Thursday 24th February 2022, Jess
One Year Before: Tuesday 16th May 2023, Jess
One Year Before: Wednesday 17th May 2023, Jess
Ten Months Before: Saturday 22nd July 2023, Jess
Eight Months Before: Tuesday 12th September 2023, Jess
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
After: Monday 13th May, Milla
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
The Night She Dies: Friday 3rd May, Jess
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
After: Monday 13th May, Milla
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
After: Monday 13th May, DI Simon Finnemore
After: Monday 13th May, Sean
After: Monday 13th May, Milla
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
After: Monday 13th May, Rachel
After: Wednesday 24th July, Jess
After: Saturday 27th July, Rachel
Epilogue
A Letter from Sarah Clarke
Keep Reading …
Acknowledgements
Dear Reader …
About the Publisher
For Scarlett, Lily & Millie
And all teenage girls
Note to Readers
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Prologue
I killed someone.
I say the words soundlessly into the mirror. It’s dark – I haven’t switched the light on – but I watch my mouth move in greyscale.
I killed her.
Worse than someone, a girl. A young person with most of her life still unlived.
Was dying young her fate? Written in the stars alongside other people’s love stories or long, dull existences?
Or did I rock the universe when I lost my temper and didn’t think through the consequences?
I turn away from the mirror, but I refuse to feel ashamed. I can’t say whether she deserved to die, but no one could argue that I wasn’t provoked, that I didn’t have good reason.
They say that
I look back at the mirror.
Do I regret the killing?
Would I do it again if I could choose?
Will my life be forever changed from this point on?
So many questions swirl around my head, but one is by far the loudest.
Will I get caught?
BEFORE
Monday 15th April
Jess
Jess looks down at her phone. Smiles.
‘What’s so funny?’ Amber asks, leaning over to check Jess’s screen.
‘Nothing.’ Jess clicks out of Snapchat, then drops her phone into the pocket of her blazer. ‘Just a TikTok.’
Amber nods, then shifts her gaze down the aisle of the school coach, her mind already elsewhere. ‘Look at her,’ she murmurs under her breath, nudging Jess and nodding towards a girl sitting a few seats further up. ‘Can you imagine being that ugly?’
‘Her skin is so pale she looks dead,’ Jess agrees, her confidence boosted by the message she’s just read. ‘Do you reckon if we killed her, no one would notice?’
Amber snorts a giggle. The noise leads to a few heads turning in their direction, but not for long. In the nine months they’ve lived in Chinnor, people have learned not to hold eye contact with Amber. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she says with approval.
Jess feels a warmth in her cheeks; pride for making her sister laugh. She knows it’s stupid. Amber is nineteen months younger than her for a start, so really it should be her looking up to Jess. But it’s never been that way around. For as long as she can remember, Amber has been the boss, and Jess is the one who’s needed looking after.
Like when she moved up to that massive, faceless, secondary school, Amber stuck in primary for another year. There were days when she thought she wouldn’t survive it, the story of her tragic past coming up again as kids traded gossip to look cool. There were other days when she coped by not showing up at all. Then Amber finally arrived. And under her watchful glare, the snide whispers dried up.
That was a few years ago now though, and a different school. Luckily no one around here knows their story, so when she started at Lord Frederick’s in September, she didn’t have to suffer the shame for a third time.
‘Let’s get off at her stop,’ Amber suggests. ‘Do it now.’ Amber doesn’t laugh this time, and its absence sends a chill down Jess’s spine. Of course she knows that Amber would never actually kill Lucy Rose, but she might take things too far. Because Amber hates Lucy. For who she is, and what she’s got. And while Amber is a head shorter than the older girl, Jess knows who’d come out on top in a fight.
But Jess also knows she shouldn’t care about Lucy Rose. That the girl doesn’t deserve her sympathy.
Ten minutes later the coach swings left and then right onto Chinnor high street. It always drops at the posh end of the village first, Jess and Amber’s ever-growing housing estate its last stop. Clearly even the coach company thinks poorer kids need to wait their turn. But today they’re getting off early. Amber taps Jess on the hand, and they both slide out of the seat. A couple of seconds later, they catch up with Lucy in the aisle.
As soon as Lucy sees them – just a quick glance before looking down at the floor – tears well up in her eyes. She’s so pathetic. How can a 15-year-old girl cry over something like this? They’ve never even hurt her. Not properly. And anyway, what damage does Lucy think they can inflict between the bus stop and her twee little cottage a few hundred metres up the street? Jess finds her weakness embarrassing, awkward even. But Amber seems to feed off Lucy’s fear. The more the girl cowers, the harder Amber pushes.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ Amber says, her voice low and menacing. ‘Me and Jess thought we’d walk you home.’ She falls in step beside the mute girl, close enough for a shoulder barge that makes her stumble. Jess wants to walk on the other side, to hem Lucy in for maximum effect. But there’s not enough space on the pavement, so she drops in just behind. In Amber’s shadow, like normal. Lucy doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. She closes her arms over her chest, squeezes the straps of her rucksack between coiled fingers and keeps walking.
‘We looked for you at lunch today,’ Amber goes on. ‘Couldn’t find you. Were you crying in the loos again, like last week? Shame that photo of you there got shared around Year 10. People can be so cruel, can’t they?’ A few seconds of silence. Another shoulder barge. ‘I don’t know why you’re so desperate to avoid us anyway. Do you think you’re too good for us? Because we’re scummy foster kids?’
‘Leave me alone, please,’ Lucy whispers.
‘That’s not very kind, Lucy,’ Amber warns. ‘Did you hear that, Jess? Lucy doesn’t want to be friends with us. And after we’ve made this effort to walk her home.’
Jess senses Lucy’s pace increase. She’s not running, but her steps are getting faster, as though she thinks she can escape without them realising. How stupid does she think they are? Amber must notice too because she suddenly grabs Lucy’s spindly forearm and yanks it backwards, keeping her fingers locked on, the pressure turning Lucy’s flesh white. It forces her to stop, and Jess shifts her position to shield her sister’s aggression from view. Which also means she’s looking away, which is secretly a relief.
‘Why the hurry?’ Amber hisses, the tease gone from her voice. ‘If you’re not careful, I might take it personally.’
‘Why me?’ Lucy whimpers. ‘Why do you pick on me?’
Amber slips her free hand into her bag for something. Jess twists to look. It’s a triangular blade, meant for a craft knife. Jess holds her breath. Amber got her to swipe it from the Art department, but now she can see it, so close to Lucy’s bare arm, she wonders if she should have refused.
‘Why did you give Jess the silent treatment last term?’ Amber asks, taking a step towards Lucy, dipping the point of the blade against her skin. ‘She was the new girl in your tutor group.’
‘I didn’t …’
‘She tried to make friends with you, and you gave her the brush-off. Because she’s a dumb-arse social care kid.’
‘No, I …’
‘She’s wearing your sister’s old blazer. Did you know that? Bought at the second-hand sale. Still got the label in it. Milla Rose. I guess it’ll come to me one day. If I ever get as lanky as her.’
Jess looks away again, her face burning. A car rumbles past, but the driver is oblivious to the three of them. She turns back.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy whispers. ‘Please. Don’t hurt me.’
‘Invite us back to yours then,’ Amber hisses. ‘Prove that we’re not too scummy for you.’
Lucy doesn’t respond, but Jess can see fat tears bubble in front of her pale-blue eyes. God, why does she do that? How is she so spineless? ‘Fucking crybaby,’ Jess murmurs.
‘Lucy?’ A voice suddenly rings out from across the street, followed by the dull thud of a car door closing. ‘Is everything okay?’
Amber pockets the blade; releases her grip on Lucy’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she says to Jess, giving the woman a sideways glance. ‘Let’s go.’ She starts striding up the road, away from an unwanted confrontation with an adult, and Jess has to scurry to catch up. Following Amber’s lead, they pass a small parade of shops, then veer off the road and onto a country path. Jess knows where they’re going without needing to ask. They cross the old railway line and continue up towards the woods.
Half an hour later, they arrive at Chinnor Hill nature reserve. It’s not much more than a small opening in the trees, but it feels like a secret hideaway. They discovered it last summer, soon after they moved to their new foster home. The mud mostly kept them away during the winter, so it’s good to be back. Jess sinks down onto the blanket of tiny wildflowers and long grass, lies back and stares at the grey-blue sky.
‘Was that her mum?’ she asks, as her sister drops down next to her.
‘Yeah,’ Amber says, nodding. ‘I’ve seen them out running together.’ Amber’s voice is monotone now, mechanical, and Jess knows from experience what that means. That there’s some emotion threatening to spill out, a door that needs to be slammed shut.
Amber is good at putting on a show. Hard bitch at school. Suck-up foster kid at home. Sexy minx whenever Sean gives her a second of attention. Only Jess has glimpsed the real Amber, the one who still misses her mum, and hates the world for taking her away. It doesn’t help that most of her memories of Jacqui are bad ones. Like the smell of her after a day on the booze. All fumes and vomit. Or how Jacqui would curl up and cry when Tyler stormed out after an argument, her face a mix of blood and blue skin where he’d hit her. And then that final time.
