The Lost Sister: A London Crime Thriller (Detective Chief Inspector Arla Baker Series Book 1)

Did a serial killer take her lost sister?

For 16 years, Detective Chief Inspector Arla Baker has hunted for Nicole, her lost sister...

Today, a woman lies with her throat slit open in Clapham Common Park. There are three black triangles drawn on her body. DCI Arla Baker is called in to investigate.
Soon there is another body, killed in identical fashion, in the same location.

Arla knows a vicious serial killer is stalking the streets. But what does the killer know about Nicole? For Clapham Common is where Nicole disappeared fifteen years ago. Arla refuses to accept Nicole is dead. She will not rest till she finds her sister.

As another body appears, it’s clear that the killer is hungry for more blood.
And Arla is not the one hunting this crazed psychopath.

Arla is the hunted.

As deep secrets of the past begin to unravel, so does Arla’s grip on reality. It’s not just her career on the line.

It’s her life.

CHAPTER 1

February 1997

Nicole ran. She didn’t know where she was going. It didn’t matter. Breath rasped inside her chest, air clawing out of her lungs in painful gasps.
The thick grass rose to her knees, and she splashed into a frozen puddle. She muffled her shriek and clambered out, her shoes now blocks of ice. Her tights were soaked up to her knees.
Fear burned inside her, making her legs move as fast as she could. The pain in her abdomen was like a spear, lancing into her hips. She muted her scream and bit her lips. Hot, saline drops forced their way out of her eyes. Her hands flew down to her abdomen, holding it, feeling it move. Her breath came in desperate gasps. She felt blood, warm and thick trickling down her thighs. Tall plants brushed against her legs. But she didn’t stop running.
The moon slipped out from between clouds, a useless, deep yellow sickle. She saw little and heard nothing but the panting from her lips.
Lights. In the distance, like fireflies dancing in the dark. Anywhere was better than the hell she had just left. A sob escaped her lips as she felt something twist inside her abdomen. The pain was now unbearable, almost forcing her to stop.
A voice. Behind her, shouting her name. She stopped for a second, fetid air hot around her lips. She recognised the voice, and a cold slither of panic ran down her spine. If he caught up with her, she was as good as dead.
Nicole shuddered, and ran faster. When she got closer to the lights, she realised it was a church. There was no one outside, only the lights glimmered faintly in the dark. She kept moving somehow. She got closer to the fence separating the grass from the church and collapsed against it.
She heard the voice again, and saw a shape moving out from the darkness. Panic bulged inside her heart. She gripped her heavy abdomen, and heaved herself up, leaning against the fence. She turned, crashing through the fence gates, almost falling. She straightened and lurched towards the door. She pushed the door open and stood there, blood pouring down her head and pooling down her legs onto the floor. She heard the voice again, louder this time. He was right behind her.
She wanted to keep running, but there was no escape. She was exhausted.
Her knees crumpled, and she fainted.

CHAPTER 2

Charlene Atkins breathed in and out rapidly, trying to calm the incessant thudding of her heart. Her panicked breaths became vapour in the freezing night air, dissipating as rapidly as the warmth in her body. She shivered and stared at The Holy Communion Church.
Why had she come? It was too late to beg for forgiveness. Her heart had hardened into a slab of stone long ago.
No one could judge her, not even a God she didn’t believe in anymore. No one but herself – and that was the hardest part. The part she had to live with.
The church stood shrouded in darkness, a tepid yellow light in the front illuminating the stone pillars outside the main door, and the empty, silent stone patio. A gust of wind blew gnarled yellow leaves onto the patio. They made a sound like bones being dragged across the hard ground. A round white moon rose behind the church steeple, its orb suspended in the clutches of a skeleton tree.
It was time for him to speak. She walked forward, leaves crunching underneath her feet. She stopped short when she saw a shape separate itself from a large tree in front of her. Fear grabbed her throat in a vice-like grip, and she could barely breathe. Mesmerised, she watched the dark figure walk towards her in slow, measured steps. The heels of his boots made no sound on the ground.
“Hello, Charlene.” The Keeper’s voice was low and measured.
She stood her ground, resisting the impulse to turn and run as he came closer. He stopped three feet away.
“Where is it?” he asked. His voice was harder, like steel. She recoiled at the question.
“Not here.”
She could see him smile in the dark, his lopsided grin like a psychotic joker. “Is it back in the house?”
“First you need to tell me…” The words died in her mouth as he lunged for her. She pivoted on her feet and turned away. She went to run, but stumbled on her ankles, dropping to her knees. In a flash, the Keeper was above her, a black mass blanking out the cold light of the moon. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back viciously, making her cry out. He brought his lips closer to her face.
“Tell me,” he whispered. She shook her head.
The stinging blow to the side of her head rocked her vision. Red and yellow globules of pain burst inside her eyes. She cried out and slumped forward.
“One last chance,” he whispered, his breathing calm and easy.
“No.”
A blow to the nose almost felled her, and she only stayed kneeling as he held her hair. Warm, metallic liquid poured down her nose, and she could taste it on her tongue. Her breath came in gasps, and she retched, spitting out a cracked tooth. She screamed in pain as he stood up suddenly, pulling her to standing by the hair. He dragged her with him, stepping off the narrow road into the softness of the grass.
She fell to her knees again and scratched his hands at her hair. The blow that landed on her stomach made her double up and gag. Mucus trailed from her open mouth, seeping into the hoary winter grass. He dragged her deeper into the darkness of Clapham Common.
The trees seemed to hunch closer, hushed in silent witness. The moon broke free from the bony barnacles of branches, and rose up into the black, muted sky.