Read Online Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) by Netta Newbound - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Netta Newbound
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him again, her large blue eyes fixed on his. "I told you I was being watched but you wouldn't believe me."
"It's not that I didn’t believe you, Amanda, but I couldn't imagine why somebody would want to watch you—it didn't make sense—it still doesn’t."
He stared at the woman in front of him—the woman who had shared his life for so long—the woman who had given birth to his children. But all he saw was a stranger.
"I need to get the kids away from here—he knows where I am, and I don't want him anywhere near them." She was shaking so much her teeth chattered. Tears filled her eyes and then great racking sobs shook her body.
He pulled her into his arms. "It's all right. I won't let anything happen to you or the kids, I promise," he said.
"Don't you see? It already has. He somehow got to Emma at the zoo. What about the seahorse he put in her bag?" Huge tears spilled from her lovely big eyes.
"Now you're being daft,” he snapped. “Emma said she followed you . Nobody took her, and she probably just found the brooch," he said as he forced himself to soothe her.
"You don't know him, Michael. I do. I know how his sick mind works, trust me. I also know he won't be happy until he punishes me."
Alarm bells started ringing in his head. "For what? Come on, Amanda, I think it’s time you told me everything."
"I testified against him. I was the one who had him locked up." Her voice was no more than a whisper, and large silent tears streamed down her face.
"What did that monster do to you? Tell me—it's all right." He pulled her head to his shoulder, stroking her silky blond hair.
"He … he raped me."
***
Maybe I shouldn't have blurted it out like that, but I needed him to take me seriously for once in his life. Plus, if I'm honest, I also wanted to hurt him for a host of reasons, though none of them—apart from carrying on with another woman—were even his fault.
The expression on his face, once I'd told him, reminded me of the time a seagull crapped on his shoulder in Blackpool. He was disgusted. Just another reason for him to think of me as damaged stock. Now I was the woman who'd slept with her father in his eyes, regardless of the circumstances.
Michael had gone out soon afterwards, making some excuse about needing fresh air and clearing his head. Forgotten was the grand speech of being there to protect us. Two hours had passed already, and it didn't take a genius to work out where he'd gone.
My heart contracted in my chest and I bit back the tears. I knew it was over. Had known all week since the texts but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it. Now the decision was out of my hands–it had been obvious by his reaction.
I wondered what he'd do once he knew the whole truth. The watered down version had freaked him out enough.
I understood why he'd find it difficult to comprehend. His had been an overindulged childhood. His parents had spoiled him rotten and he was their world. It would be impossible for him to imagine his father abusing him in any way. Even now he only had to click his fingers and they would come running.
And yes, I had lied to him when we first met, telling him my family were dead. But no-one in their right mind would tell the whole sorry truth straight off and I never found the right time afterwards.
The police and courts protected me when the story first hit the papers. I didn't have to face people looking at me the way Michael had tonight—like it was somehow my fault.
He’d go mad when he found out my mum was also still alive. She left us when I was four or five years old and I didn’t hear from her again until I tracked her down when I was seventeen years old.
I remember being stunned by how much I looked like her—golden blond hair, slim features, pale blue-grey eyes, full lips and a slight frame. But that was where the similarity ended. She was a self-centred woman and a god-awful mother.
After she had left my dad she shacked up with a man living
"It's not that I didn’t believe you, Amanda, but I couldn't imagine why somebody would want to watch you—it didn't make sense—it still doesn’t."
He stared at the woman in front of him—the woman who had shared his life for so long—the woman who had given birth to his children. But all he saw was a stranger.
"I need to get the kids away from here—he knows where I am, and I don't want him anywhere near them." She was shaking so much her teeth chattered. Tears filled her eyes and then great racking sobs shook her body.
He pulled her into his arms. "It's all right. I won't let anything happen to you or the kids, I promise," he said.
"Don't you see? It already has. He somehow got to Emma at the zoo. What about the seahorse he put in her bag?" Huge tears spilled from her lovely big eyes.
"Now you're being daft,” he snapped. “Emma said she followed you . Nobody took her, and she probably just found the brooch," he said as he forced himself to soothe her.
"You don't know him, Michael. I do. I know how his sick mind works, trust me. I also know he won't be happy until he punishes me."
Alarm bells started ringing in his head. "For what? Come on, Amanda, I think it’s time you told me everything."
"I testified against him. I was the one who had him locked up." Her voice was no more than a whisper, and large silent tears streamed down her face.
"What did that monster do to you? Tell me—it's all right." He pulled her head to his shoulder, stroking her silky blond hair.
"He … he raped me."
***
Maybe I shouldn't have blurted it out like that, but I needed him to take me seriously for once in his life. Plus, if I'm honest, I also wanted to hurt him for a host of reasons, though none of them—apart from carrying on with another woman—were even his fault.
The expression on his face, once I'd told him, reminded me of the time a seagull crapped on his shoulder in Blackpool. He was disgusted. Just another reason for him to think of me as damaged stock. Now I was the woman who'd slept with her father in his eyes, regardless of the circumstances.
Michael had gone out soon afterwards, making some excuse about needing fresh air and clearing his head. Forgotten was the grand speech of being there to protect us. Two hours had passed already, and it didn't take a genius to work out where he'd gone.
My heart contracted in my chest and I bit back the tears. I knew it was over. Had known all week since the texts but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it. Now the decision was out of my hands–it had been obvious by his reaction.
I wondered what he'd do once he knew the whole truth. The watered down version had freaked him out enough.
I understood why he'd find it difficult to comprehend. His had been an overindulged childhood. His parents had spoiled him rotten and he was their world. It would be impossible for him to imagine his father abusing him in any way. Even now he only had to click his fingers and they would come running.
And yes, I had lied to him when we first met, telling him my family were dead. But no-one in their right mind would tell the whole sorry truth straight off and I never found the right time afterwards.
The police and courts protected me when the story first hit the papers. I didn't have to face people looking at me the way Michael had tonight—like it was somehow my fault.
He’d go mad when he found out my mum was also still alive. She left us when I was four or five years old and I didn’t hear from her again until I tracked her down when I was seventeen years old.
I remember being stunned by how much I looked like her—golden blond hair, slim features, pale blue-grey eyes, full lips and a slight frame. But that was where the similarity ended. She was a self-centred woman and a god-awful mother.
After she had left my dad she shacked up with a man living
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