Killing You Softly by Lucy Carver Read Free Book Online

texted in one of the gaps between Galina-minding.
    Jack had texted back after a few minutes. Why – what’s going on?
    Someone hacked into my account or else they stole password and posted fake photos.
    Fake?
    Yeah – of me in the Maldives, and you know I’ve never even been there.
    Wow, weird. Were they really bad?
    Sleazy, I’d texted. Felt really embarrassed.
    Poor baby, Jack had written. He sent me lots of smiley faces and kisses.
    But, anyway, the photos were gone and Tuesday was almost here.
    I looked at the photograph of Scarlett on our screen and read that a police inspector in charge of the investigation had called a press conference for later that day. ‘Let’s
    translate this piece about the girl in the canal,’ I told Hooper, hoping of course that I’d learn more details about Scarlett’s death.
    ‘Maybe something more cheerful?’ Hooper queried. But then he looked at my expression and saw that it wasn’t up for debate.
    So we started with the headline –
Police Appeal for Help.
    ‘
Appel de la Police a l’Aide
,’ Hooper wrote.
    ‘
Oxfordshire police are to ask the public for information relating to the death of seventeen-year-old Scarlett Hartley
.’
    ‘Wait – slow down!’ he begged. ‘
La police Oxfordshire demandera au public d’informations relatives a la mort de Scarlett Hartley, dix-sept ans.
How does
    that sound?’
    ‘Yes, good.’ I read on: ‘
The schoolgirl’s body was recently recovered from the Oxford-to-Stratford canal close to West Ainslee lock, and early forensic evidence
    suggests that she had been killed by a blow to the head
.’
    ‘Slow down! Who do you think I am, Will Harrison?’ Hooper said again.
    Across the room. Will was working with Eugenie on their chosen piece of text. At the mention of his name, he glanced across at Hooper and me.
    Hooper sighed and went on with the task. ‘
Le corps de l’ecoliere a ete recemment pris de
. . .’
    My heart rate accelerated as I finished reading the article. ‘It says here that so far no witnesses have come forward. The police are hoping that an appeal for information on national TV
    will jog people’s memories. There’s an Inspector June Ripley leading the investigation. She says the murder was particularly brutal and there are worries that the killer may strike
    again.’
    ‘Impossible – I can’t translate unless you slow down,’ Hooper complained as Justine stopped by our desk.
    She saw my hand quiver over the mouse.
‘C’est trop horrible, Alyssa. Il fault choisir un autre sujet.’ It’s
too horrible, Alyssa. You must choose another
    topic.
    It was sound advice. I did know that thinking too much about Scarlett Hartley wasn’t good for me. Still, I couldn’t help it as I drifted through afternoon lessons
    then took a stroll in the school grounds’ past the lake and into the oak woods beyond.
    Scarlett had been going out with Alex Driffield and ended up dead in a canal. She had perfect recall of everything that had ever happened to her. The killer was brutal and might ‘strike
    again’. Certain facts hammered away inside my head so I was too preoccupied to notice a mountain biker speeding towards me along the rough track.
    Whoa! I only noticed him when his bike hit a tree root on the crest of a small hill’ and bike and rider parted company in mid-air then crashed to the ground. I’d run to help the
    guy up before I recognized him.
    ‘Alex, are you OK? What are you doing here?’
    ‘It’s a free country,’ he mumbled as he brushed skeletal autumn leaves and dirt from the sleeve and shoulder of his neon-yellow cycling jacket. ‘I can ride where I
    want.’
    ‘Not in private grounds,’ I reminded him, picking up his bike and handing it back to him. ‘You’re trespassing. Anyway, be honest. You didn’t just happen to be
    here – you came looking for me.’
    ‘What if I did?’
    ‘Jesus, Alex, we can go round and round in circles for as long as you like.’ I noticed there were streaks of