No Good Deed: The gripping new psychological thriller from the bestselling author of In a Cottage in a Wood
One stolen baby. Two desperate strangers. One night of terror.The USA Today and Sunday Times top ten bestselling author returns with a dark and twisty psychological thriller.She saved your life.When Nina almost dies during a disastrous blind date, her life is saved by a waitress called Angel. But later that evening, Nina is surprised by a knock on the door. It’s Angel – and she’s pointing a gun at her.Now she’ll make you pay.Minutes later, Angel’s younger brother Lucas turns up, covered in blood shielding a stolen newborn baby in his arms. Nina is about to endure the longest night of her life – a night that will be filled with terror and lead her to take risks she would never have believed herself capable of…
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This is entirely a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © Caroline Green 2018
Caroline Green asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photographs © Lee Avison/Trevillion Images;
Shutterstock.com (woman silhouette)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2018 ISBN: 9780008319052
Source ISBN: 9780008308704
Version 2018-06-28
Readers: I’m so grateful to each and every one of you.
Table of Contents
The sun still blasts through the restaurant windows at seven pm, showcasing dust on the red plastic table cloths and monochrome movie stars on the walls. Even Sophia Loren is looking the worse for wear as she smiles down on my table-for-two, her picture yellowing and wrinkled in the unforgiving light. Two large ceiling fans churn the soupy air, bringing no relief.
The initial, barbecue-novelty of this heatwave has long passed and most of the passers-by now share the same shiny, bad-tempered patina. There’s a fraught, irritable energy in the heavy air. Earlier, on the bus into town, a young woman had unleashed a barrage of swearing at an old man she accused of hogging all the space on their double seat. Physical contact with strangers is even less welcome than it ever was.
I pluck at my neckline to let in some air; sweat is gathering under the seams of my bra. Because I’ve been living in vest tops, baggy old shorts and flip-flops after work lately, I feel imprisoned by this outfit. I don’t even like this dress that much, nor the sandals that supposedly go with it, which seem to be made mainly from barbed wire and sandpaper.
I bought the shoes and the dress from a shop I normally avoid because it’s so expensive, deciding I needed to be bolder, braver, in my wardrobe choices.
Making any kind of decisions the day after your husband of fifteen years moves out of the family home and in with his new, younger partner, isn’t, it transpires, the brightest idea.
I picture her; reasonable, smiling Laura with her huge, moist eyes and her, ‘I really hope we can become friends, Nina.’
Friends.
Ian posted a picture on Facebook today; the two of them looking tanned and happy outside a pub. Laura’s face was turned to him like a heliotrope seeking sunshine. He seems to have dropped ten years in that picture and it stung, I can tell you. If that wasn’t bad enough, Carmen, my supposed best friend, had liked the post. It was as though she’d forgotten all that stuff about being ‘better off without him’. Forgotten about my broken heart.
So, I’d bashed out a furious private message to her. She’d claimed it was ‘difficult’ because we all ‘went back a long way’ and a load of other rubbish that finally made me snap. I’m pretending not to see the missed calls and four texts she has sent since then.
