Follow the Leader by Mel Sherratt Read Free Book Online

stubble.
    ‘You hungry?’ she asked as he pulled her towards him, squeezing her tightly around the waist.
    ‘For you?’ He kissed her. ‘Not at all. But I’ll have whatever you’re having food-wise.’
    She pushed him away playfully.
    ‘How was Karen?’ she asked. Mark had said he’d visit when she’d rung him earlier, knowing that she’d be late home. Despite Karen’s brain condition, she was aware of happy and sad. If Allie didn’t visit for more than three days in a row, she would sulk. It made Allie feel even guiltier.
    ‘She was good.’ Mark yawned. ‘I said you’d be by tomorrow. You will be able to sneak a few minutes with her?’
    ‘You know I’ll do my best.’
    ‘Yeah, I do know that.’
    ‘Meaning?’ she frowned.
    ‘You know what I mean. Family first and all that.’
    Before she could defend herself, Mark left the room. Allie groaned quietly. Despite his protestations, sometimes it would be good to come home without the worry of being chastised for working long hours. She knew only too well that she needed to keep work and play separate, and there was a fine line to tread.
    But he was wrong when he said she didn’t think of her family . It was at times like these that she did nothing but. That’s why she often needed to distance herself from Karen, to stop the raw pain from seeping in again. Of course, it had deadened somewhat over the years since the attack. But often in cases such as Mickey Taylor’s , when she had to spend time with victims’ families, it brought her own feelings to the forefront again. She couldn’t help that.
    But it was what made her do her job well, and she didn’t want to change that at all.

Chapter Six
    Rhian Jamieson let out an impatient sigh as she waited her turn in the queue at the Co-op. The woman standing in front of her packed her shopping slowly while her toddler wrecked the display of cheese and onion crisps at her side. Rhian clocked her cheap jeans and sweater underneath a denim jacket that must have been fashionable at some time or other. Lank hair, several strands coming loose from a ponytail, was scraped severely away from her face. Dark circles under her eyes and a spotty chin, face devoid of any make-up.
    Rhian twirled a strand of her own freshly washed hair around a finger, unable to understand how someone could let herself go that much. The woman seemed barely older than her, yet at twen ty-si x, Rhian probably looked better now than she ever had in her life. Slim waist, blonde hair, glamour model figure and pouting lips, designer coat, leather-look skinny trousers and stiletto ankle boots – she knew she looked amazing.
    ‘That’s eighteen pounds forty-seven pence, please,’ said the checkout assistant as she waited for the customer to finish. There were several people in the queue behind Rhian now, some starting to roll their eyes and check their watches. Rhian gnawed at her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming out as the woman thrust a note into the cashier’s hand. Why couldn’t she hurry up!
    Fifteen minutes later, Rhian was out of the shop and rushing to her car. It was her own fault, really – she hadn’t planned on being out so late the night before but she’d bumped into friends while out shopping. Her confession that her fella was working away for the night had led to an impromptu evening doing manicures for several women. It had been lucrative at least – and pleasing that her new business venture was taking off. She’d forgotten all about getting some food in so would have to tell Joe she’d been to M&S – she was sure he’d never know.
    A few minutes into her journey, she had to slow for a red light. While she was stationary, she glanced into the black people- carrier stopped at her side. The woman driving it pushed neat blonde hair behind her ear and checked her eyes in the rear-view mirror , rubbing a finger under each one before she was satisfied with he r r eflection. Behind her, a young child was sleeping