Take It To The Grave (part 3 Of 6)

By Zoe Carter

Part 3 of 6: a thrilling new installment in this darkly compelling psychological thriller

Everyone should know what you did.

Sarah Taylor–Cox has received two threatening notes – notes which threaten to destroy everything she holds dear. Just getting through the days is a struggle – the cracks in her marriage are becoming ever more visible, her protectiveness of her baby is becoming overbearing…and the arrival of her sister Maisey, along with her estranged mother and stepbrother, is certainly not helping matters!

For Maisey, watching the sister she's always looked up to struggling to stay sane is heart–breaking. She's determined to help, but being around family is unearthing long–buried memories, memories which Maisey hasn't let herself think about in years. And one particular echo from the past won't stop reverberating in her head…the cry of a frightened child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jun 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781489248152

Book preview

Maisey

I stared out at the ocean, squinting behind my sunglasses. Sunlight gave the sea a sparkle, and made the sand look brighter, the white stone fence surrounding the terrace even whiter. It was beautiful, so much color, so much vibrancy...so damn scorching. I pulled my red cotton tank top away from my chest, trying to get some breeze between the fabric and my skin, only there wasn’t any breeze. I’d been told by Patrick, the butler, to take a seat and enjoy the terrace before the rest came and joined me. That’s how I’d come to think of these people in my sister’s home. Patrick-the-butler and Bridget-the-maid. I sighed, my shoulders sagging. I was so tired. Darling Elliot had cried on and off all night. Anytime I got my brain to switch off from my sister and her husband and her glorious life and I got somewhere close to dozing, my nephew would start up like a chain saw ripping through the serenity.

I shook my head in awe. I didn’t know how Sarah did it. She seemed so calm, so serene, if just a little tired. I was a nurse, and I’d pulled my fair share of night shifts, but, oh, my God. After two hours of hearing that baby cry I wanted to scream. After four hours, I wanted to cry with him. How Sarah managed to get through a day with that going on all night, I’ll never know.

That was a great match, Warwick. You’ve been practicing.

I turned around at the sound of the warm, feminine voice, and footsteps against the white stone pavers. My jaw dropped slightly. You’ve got to be kidding me.

My sister, accompanied by her husband and his parents, was pushing a stroller up the path, and they all trooped toward the terrace, cheeks flushed, and carrying tennis rackets. Eleanor was smiling at her son, her figure looking slim and deceptively young in the short white skirt and chic, short-sleeved top. The woman was trim and fit, and spent a lot of time working out, if those legs were anything to go by. Edward was wearing a pair of white shorts and a red polo shirt with a little blue horse and rider embroidered over his right breast. His shoulders were broad, and there was only the slightest paunch over the waistband of his shorts. The man was in fantastic shape for his age.

Warwick was wearing a similar outfit, only his shirt was pale blue, and the color made his eyes even more startling against his tan.

My sister wore a figure-hugging short-skirted dress with thick shoulder straps that revealed the muscle tone of her arms. I couldn’t help noticing her bust, and hoped she was wearing a good sports bra. She had to be breastfeeding. My nephew was still so young, and I wondered how my sister was going with it. I’d had to counsel a number of women on breastfeeding during the course of my work...breastfeeding, post-birth sex, appetite versus diet versus sleeping. All this would be normal conversation for sisters post-baby, and yet I couldn’t quite see us sharing that kind of intimate chatter. I shook my head again at the significant distance between us, the lack of sisterly intimacy. The foursome approached, chatting about their match.

My God. They’d played tennis. I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. It wasn’t quite eight-thirty yet. How did my sister do it? Stay up all night with a crying baby and then rise at sunup for a casual tennis match before breakfast. I could barely keep my eyes open. I noticed, though, that my nephew’s eyes were closed, and he had that still, relaxed look that only an exhausted baby with a full tummy in deep, deep slumber could achieve. Good one, tiger. Keep everyone up all night, then sleep the day away. I hoped he’d wake up so that I could tire him out before tonight—and then maybe he’d sleep. And if he slept, so would my sister...so would I. I really didn’t want a repeat of last night’s countdown of the Top 40 of baby cries.

That’ll shift the pounds, eh, Sarah? Edward joked, batting her on the bottom with his racket.

My eyes widened behind my sunglasses, and I noticed my sister’s cheeks reddened as she parked the stroller next to the table.

Well, it was definitely a good workout. Morning, Maisey, Warwick said as he took a chair at the head of the table. Maybe you’d like to join us next time?

I smiled. Hell, no. Maybe, I said in what I hoped was a noncommittal way. No. I did not do tennis, and most definitely not before breakfast. I liked to get physical, but that was generally jogging, or surfing, or swimming...all activities one could do on one’s own. Sarah took a chair on one side of me, and Eleanor and Edward took their seats opposite. Bridget walked out, accompanied by Emily, another maid, and each bore a tray. The food was placed gently on the table in front of Warwick, and I relaxed against my chair. Croissants, muffins, toast—oh, bless them, bacon—jam, and sweet pastries, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs—already shelled—and those cute little sausages I only saw in hotels. The staff returned moments later with a carafe of orange juice and a thermos of what I seriously hoped was coffee. The spread was magnificent. God, I loved the Hamptons. I loved my sister and her family. I loved my bawling little nephew. If they fed me like this every week, I’d never move away.

So, Maisey, Sarah tells me you’ve traveled the globe, Edward said, leaning forward to snag a strip of bacon with a pair of tongs. Where have you been?