Picture of Innocence
THE MUST-READ PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE OF 2019… Perfect for fans of LULLABY, LET ME LIE and THE CRY.My name is Lydia. I’m 12 years old. I’m not an evil person, but I did something bad.My name is Maddie. I’d never hurt my son. But can I be sure if I don’t remember?With three children under ten, Maddie is struggling. On the outside, she’s a happy young mother, running a charity as well as a household. But inside, she’s exhausted. She knows she’s lucky to have to have a support network around her. Not just her loving husband, but her family and friends too.But is Maddie putting her trust in the right people? Because when tragedy strikes, she is certain someone has hurt her child – and everyone is a suspect, including Maddie herself…The women in this book are about to discover that looks can be deceiving… because anyone is capable of terrible things. Even the most innocent, even you.THIS IS THE STORY OF EVERY MOTHER’S WORST FEAR. BUT IT’S NOT A STORY YOU KNOW… AND NOTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS.
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PICTURE OF INNOCENCE
T J Stimson
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © T J Stimson 2019
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2019
Cover photograph © Tom Hogan/Plain Picture
T J Stimson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008298203
Ebook Edition © [month] 2019 ISBN: 9780008298210
Version: 2019-03-13
For my nephews,
George, Harry and Oliver.
Your Daddy would be so proud of you.
Charles Michael Francis Stimson
1974–2015
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
Oscar Wilde (1854–1900)
Contents
Chapter 4: Wednesday 7.30 a.m.
Chapter 5: Wednesday 10.00 a.m.
Chapter 10: Saturday 10.00 a.m.
Chapter 11: Saturday 11.00 a.m.
Chapter 15: Wednesday 8.00 a.m.
Chapter 16: Wednesday 11.30 a.m.
Chapter 17: Wednesday 2.00 p.m.
Chapter 18: Wednesday 4.30 p.m.
Chapter 19: Thursday 9.00 a.m.
Chapter 20: Thursday 10.00 a.m.
Chapter 21: Saturday 10.00 a.m.
Chapter 22: Saturday 11.30 a.m.
Chapter 30: Thursday 4.30 p.m.
Chapter 31: Thursday 5.30 p.m.
Chapter 32: Thursday 7.30 p.m.
Chapter 33: Thursday 8.00 p.m.
Chapter 35: Saturday 7.00 a.m.
Chapter 36: Saturday 8.00 a.m.
Chapter 37: Saturday 2.15 p.m.
Chapter 41: Thursday 3.00 p.m.
I crawl back into bed and stare blindly up into the darkness. I won’t sleep; not tonight, not for many nights to come. I doubt I’ll ever sleep soundly again.
I start to shake. The adrenalin that brought me this far suddenly drains away and I begin to shiver so violently my muscles cramp. I press my fist against my mouth to still the chatter of my teeth. If I had anything left in my stomach, I would be sick again.
I’ve always thought of myself as a fundamentally good person. I’m not perfect, but I’ve spent a lifetime trying to do the right thing. I rescue spiders from the bath; I stop traffic to let a mother lead her row of ducklings across the road. I literally wouldn’t hurt a fly. A month ago, I’d never have believed myself capable of killing a mouse, never mind murdering another human being in cold blood.
But human nature has an infinite capacity to surprise.
We teach our children to fear dark alleys and strangers, but the real danger is much closer to home. You’re more than twice as likely to be murdered by someone you love than by someone you’ve never met. If you’re a child, it’s nearer three times. If you want a reason to be scared, look in the mirror.
Evil doesn’t have two horns and a tail. It’s ordinary, just like me.
Those jealous husbands who bludgeon their wives to death, the women who smother their babies, the estranged fathers who lock their children in the car and connect the exhaust. Ordinary men and women, all of them.
Just like me.
Maddie opened her eyes. It was dark; she struggled to orient herself as her vision adjusted to the gloom. She was in the nursery: she could just make out the silhouette of Noah’s cot. She had no idea how she’d got here. When she groped for the memory, it’d been wiped clean.
