Remember Me: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist
Fifteen years ago Ellen Smith vanished from the woods near her small Welsh village. Never to be seen again.Eight people were in the woods that night: eight splintered lives, eight people hiding a terrible secret. But who can remember the truth?Now, Ellen’s best friend, Detective Ava Cole is all grown up back in the village where it all began, and everyone is asking the same question.What really happened to Ellen?Filled with shocking discoveries and traumatic memories this fast paced thriller is perfect for fans of Friend Request and Close to Home.
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D. E. WHITE started writing fifteen years ago, scribbling ideas on napkins at work on the night shift. After various jobs, including working as cabin crew, in a hospital, a supermarket, and as a 999 call handler for the ambulance service, she began writing full time in 2018.
She is a multi-award winning entrepreneur, and was part of a small business delegation speaking at Number 10, Downing Street in 2015.
Having spent a lot of time travelling the world, she now lives with her husband and two sons on the south coast of the UK, with a growing assortment of animals and several stick insects.
Remember Me is her debut psychological thriller.
Visit D. E. White at daisywhiteauthor.co.uk
Remember Me
D. E. WHITE
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019
Copyright © D. E. White 2019
D. E. White asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for 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 e-book 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.
E-book Edition © February 2019 ISBN: 9780008322045
Version: 2018-11-28
Table of Contents
I’d give everything to be back at the first square on the board, with all still to play for…
In the beginning, I was just another kid, with just another unlucky family. I used that bad luck, as I used my good looks and confidence. Nobody knew I’d already killed once. In the games I play, I have always used the charm I was born with – along with various other, less admirable, skills I have had to acquire along the way.
There are a few golden days, bottled and stored at the back of my mind, that bring a comforting glow of nostalgia when uncorked. I inhale, eyelids drooping, and allow my thoughts to drift back…
The grass of the school playing field was warm and smelled pleasantly of hay. It was scratchy on my bare legs and under my spread palms. I remember that day so clearly that I can summon the laughter, the scent of cut grass, the bumpy feeling of a packet of pills in my pocket. I leaned back until the sun enveloped my face in a wave of burning fire, and I enjoyed the dizziness evoked by blood-red patterns on my closed eyelids. Sprawled lazily in a semicircle facing me, a few of the other kids were idly chucking empty Coke cans at an old oak stump. Someone was passing round an illicit cigarette, and the curling blue smoke teased my senses.
I had already discovered how to play with my pack – how to get them into a ball game, climbing trees at the far end of the field, or even a bit of joyriding when darkness fell. That day I had less innocent activities planned. It was the first true test of my power over my players and I relished that tingle of excitement. It buzzed through my veins like a drug hitting home. I could never have guessed how that day and night would shape my life, or how my need for revenge would become everything – a tearing, ravenous hunger I could never satisfy.
I can see us all now, as though I am soaring above the school, floating like a bird, arms outstretched. It’s where I belong. The boys and the girls, so bright and alive against the scorched summer grass. The laughing, teasing group of friends and enemies, and the drifting smell of sweat and chips. Someone was singing that stupid little song we’d had since primary school:
‘Three little girls, sitting up a tree,
Kissed all the boys,
But no one wants me.’
I knew exactly what was happening in my life, and some might say I could have stopped it at any time – but I didn’t. I watched, and I waited. It turned out better than I could ever have imagined. That’s one of the things about being a gamer – you have to know when to let fate dip a finger into your spit. It doesn’t mean losing control, it just means loosening the reins for a moment.
