Showing results by author "Maria Frankland" in All Categories

I’ve never felt welcome in my husband Dominic’s family home. His parents make it clear I’m a poor comparison to his perfect first wife, Carla. But we’re here for Christmas, so it’s important to pretend everything is fine. Until Dominic’s mother bustles into our bedroom. Smiling thinly, she blindsides me: ‘You won’t mind, will you. Carla is coming for the holidays. She’s still one of the family to us, and she can’t get home because of the storm.’ My eyes widen—did she and Carla plan this on purpose? I know Dominic won’t say a thing. He never stands up to his parents.

It was supposed to be a holiday to fix the cracks in our fractured family. I knew the seven days would be endless, but I never imagined that one of us would only survive for six of them… As I carry my case into the charming and rustic cottage and smile at my sister-in-law, Kelli, I allow myself a moment of hope. Perhaps this holiday will force our family to address our long-held grudges and leave with the promise of a happier future.

I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou's new boyfriend. I haven't been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Her presence has always been a constant, demanding focus in my life. Now, however, it's evolving into something deeper, with unsettling imitations and intrusive encroachments into every aspect of my world. The struggle to create distance only seems to intensify Donna's attachment, Pulling her dangerously closer.

I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou’s new boyfriend. I haven’t been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Scott's arrival coincides with Donna's, leaving me with no choice but to welcome her in, though I've made it clear she's an unnecessary addition to today's gathering. This meal is about introducing Scott to my mother and daughter – a fact Donna conveniently ignores.

As I walk into the pine-scented air of my seaside childhood home, gripping my husband Neil’s hand tight, I have a brief moment of hope. Maybe this Christmas will be different — for once my family might get on fueled by mulled wine and festive cheer. But the sound of happy carols are replaced by my older sister Christy’s over-loud laugh and slurred words. Rebecca, my younger sister, stalks out of the room as soon as I enter, as though I’m the Grinch here to steal Christmas. And their husbands, brash and arrogant, slap Neil’s back in a way that promises torment rather than welcome.

I open the front door and there’s Amy, smiling sweetly and ready to help. She’s been a lifesaver since Jon and I moved here–from walking the dog to picking up my little son Teddy from nursery last minute. I’m so lucky we met in the playground the first day we arrived. Amy is more than just a good friend. My only friend, really. Whenever Amy and Jon exchange glances I’m sure it seems like they’ve met before, even though Jon swears they haven’t. But then again Jon recognises lots of people from his childhood round here without truly knowing them.

Beautiful, bright-eyed Michelle Jackson, a loving wife and mother, has been killed. Her husband Paul is accused of murdering her. Their little girl Emily, numb with grief, is refusing to speak. You’ll hate Paul for what he’s done. Everyone said they were the perfect couple, always holding hands. They did everything together. But when you hear about their whispered arguments and the terrible lies they both told, you’ll be certain Paul is guilty. But everything you think you know is wrong. After all, behind closed doors every marriage has secrets. And some are deadlier than others.

The moment she sees Caitlyn, wearing her ‘bride-to-be’ sash and brimming with excitement, it hits her. She hates Caitlyn. She knows who she is – what she’s really hiding. And the temptation to do something about it is too strong to resist… It sickens me, the way they all think she’s so perfect. I plaster a fake smile on my face – all I have to do is pretend I’m enjoying the next few days. It shouldn’t be so hard. After all, I’ve been lying for years.

Sunny afternoons are the worst for a recovering alcoholic. But I’m doing OK and I’m proud of myself. I stretch out on my sun lounger with my book, basking in the peace before I have to collect my son from school. Then the gate rattles. It’s the police and judging by their expressions, they’re not here with good news. As I face the two officers, I try to dismiss what they’re telling me. My husband, Rob, can’t possibly be dead—I only saw him this morning. Besides, he’s the safest cyclist I know and would never put himself at risk.

Every time I turn the corner towards home, I yearn for Ed to have returned. But he’s not coming back. The man I thought was my forever has been living a lie with me since the moment we met. I’m sick of hearing his voicemail message. I’m even more sick of the unanswered texts. He’s left me completely in the dark and I can’t even give our kids an answer to their never-ending question, ‘When’s Daddy coming back?’

From where I stand in the shadows outside the pub I own, I can already tell what mood my husband’s in and it makes me want to stay exactly where I am. However, I can also see my bar manager, Jay. Sexy, young and exciting, he’s the person who’s going to set me free from my middle-aged monotony. I’m dreading turning fifty more than I’ve dreaded any other birthday in my life. Now that my kids are at university, the prospect of spending the rest of my life with my bullying, balding and boring husband is a miserable one.

It kills me that the only way I can spend proper time with my son Toby is by helping out at his school camp. I sit under the emerald green pine trees and Toby’s little face lights up as he runs past me, joining the other chattering, happy children around us. Then I see my ex, David, glaring at me and my heart sinks. He may have full custody, but he’d love nothing more than for me to disappear. Forever.

Seven drownings. Three months. Who is to blame? Lauren is fed up with covering local small-town news in Northern England. The bride-to-be and mother-of-one dreams of recognition and accolades as a national journalist. Yet, the dark and disturbing reporting opportunity that lands on her doorstep is one she would never have invited. When it is thrust on her, she is duty bound, both professionally and personally to investigate. Lauren is the voice for the women whose lives have been cut short in the river Alder.

Becoming Tom’s mum had always robbed me of the chance to sleep, and here I was, fifteen years on, alone in the dead of night, longing to be able to rest like everyone else. When I saw the thin blue line on my pregnancy test, I dared to hope for a future of blissful motherhood. From his very first night in the world, Tom did not sleep. By the time he was six months old, I was a single parent and almost maddened with tiredness.

Today’s the day. The things I’ve packed are hidden away and I’m waiting for the go-ahead to collect the keys to the new house. I’m so close to escaping Justin’s moods, his drinking and his violent tendencies, which are gradually getting worse. His promises of change mean nothing anymore and I’ve got to get away from him. But a national lockdown has just been announced.

You died three weeks ago, so how can you be following me on social media? Your funeral is packed to the rafters leaving standing room only. Everyone talks about your untimely death and the hole you’ve left behind. But no one feels your loss more than me, Mum. I’m the one returning to an empty house and I’m the one who receives the first notification from X.

This collection contains Book 1 - Undercurrents, Book 2 – Drowned Voices, and Book 3 – Emergence.

All I want is get back to normal. Whatever ‘normal’ is these days. After all, our family will be scarred forever after everything that’s happened. My sister-in-law falling prey to the serial killer that stalked our usual peaceful town is something I’ll never get over. But equally, I’m beyond relieved that my husband has been exonerated of involvement in any of the women’s deaths. Our nightmare is finally over. Or is it?

They don’t need to name the dangerous prisoner who’s escaped whilst in transit between prisons. The chill that snakes up my spine tells me exactly who it is. And I know the first place he’ll be heading. With a history of my own escape from him twelve years ago, I can already foresee the relentless manhunt that’s about to unfold. The question is, will he be caught before he can do any more damage? As a fresh wave of killings creeps closer to our new hometown on the east coast, I know one thing for certain. That he’s coming back for me.