No Turning Back: The can’t-put-it-down thriller of the year. Tracy Buchanan

was quiet and Anna sensed something in the silence. Was he thinking the same as her? ‘Detective Morgan?’ she asked.

      ‘Try not to worry about it, Anna. We’ll do everything we can to find out why Elliot Nunn did what he did. Do send me that email, won’t you?’ Then he was gone.

      Anna sank back in her chair, peering up at the ceiling. Even if it was someone trying to get her attention, as Detective Morgan suggested, is this how it was going to be from now on, emails from people pretending to be serial killers? Would she ever be able to feel secure in Joni’s safety again?

      ‘Are they sending someone over?’ Florence asked, wrapping her arms around herself as she peered out into the darkness.

      Anna felt a stab of guilt. Florence was nearly seventy. Despite how robust she was, she didn’t need to be feeling scared in her own home. She put her hand on her gran’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Gran, this is your house. I don’t want you to be scared here.’

      ‘Oh, poppet, we’ll be fine,’ Florence said, squeezing her granddaughter’s hand. ‘This place is like Fort Knox the amount of locks that double glazing man put in, we’ll be safe here.’ She sighed. ‘I hate you having to go through this though.’

      ‘Me too.’

      They both looked out to sea, watching as the waves clashed into each other beneath darkening skies.

      The next evening, Anna saw Guy for the first time since Elliot’s death. He stood on the doorstep of Florence’s house wearing crisp jeans and a casual white shirt, his dark hair and beard longer than they had been the last time she’d seen him, the week before. Her heart lurched at the sight of him. She missed him so much, especially now. How could everything have fallen to pieces in just a matter of weeks? His brown eyes held Anna’s for a moment then he noticed Joni crawling down the hallway towards him. He grabbed her into a hug and swirled her around as she giggled.

      ‘My gorgeous little girl,’ he said as he cuddled her. Then he held her out in front of him, examining her all over with his eyes.

      ‘She’s fine,’ Anna said.

      He looked at Anna. ‘How are you?’

      ‘Still trying to wrap my head around what happened.’

      ‘Yeah, me too,’ he said, jaw flexing. ‘It’s all over the news.’

      ‘My name isn’t though.’

      ‘Not yet. I just can’t—’ He stopped talking.

      ‘What?’

      ‘I didn’t think you’d be capable of killing someone.’

      ‘Wouldn’t you, for Joni?’

      He thought about it. ‘Before all this, I’d have said hell yeah. But now the reality is in front of me, I don’t know.’

      Anna crossed her arms, tears brimming. ‘Well I did and your daughter is alive in your arms right now because of that.’

      His face softened. ‘I know, Anna, I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to take in. Do they know why the kid tried to hurt you both?’

      ‘I have no idea.’

      Guy frowned as Joni played with his necklace. ‘Could he have been a stalker? What if there are others out there like him?’

      ‘No, he wasn’t a stalker, Guy. This is a one-off freak occurrence.’

      ‘Maybe I should take Joni for a few weeks, until this settles down?’

      Panic flooded Anna’s chest. ‘No! She’ll be safe with me, I promise.’

      ‘Then why are you here at your gran’s?’ he said, looking around him.

      ‘It’s just a precaution.’

      ‘I’m not very comfortable with all this.’

      ‘Guy, please don’t do this. You know I’d never risk Joni’s safety.’

      He held her gaze. ‘Really? She nearly got stabbed, Anna.’

      ‘For God’s sake! I was walking along the beach just like I do every day with her, with you too when we were together. I’m already struggling enough with the guilt.’

      He sighed. ‘I know, sorry. I’m tired, I’ve been cooped up in a plane then a car the past few hours and it’s bloody hot out there. And I’m worried, that’s all.’

      She tried to calm herself down. ‘I understand. But our daughter is safe, okay? I promise.’

      As she said that, she thought of the email she’d got from the person claiming to be the Ophelia Killer. A trickle of fear ran through her.

      She handed Joni’s changing bag to Guy. ‘Remember she’s dropped her midday feed like we discussed.’

      ‘Yep. Say goodbye to Mummy,’ he said, handing Joni over to Anna.

      She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Be a good girl for Daddy, darling,’ she said, breathing in her scent. ‘You’ll see Mummy in three days. I love you so much.’

      Joni wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and pressed her nose against her cheek. ‘Mama.’

      ‘Mama?’ Guy asked, tilting his head.

      ‘Yes, she said it for the first time the other day.’ She didn’t want to say what day.

      ‘What a clever girl!’

      ‘I know, isn’t she?’

      They smiled at each other and her heart ached for all that was lost between them. Then Guy broke her gaze.

      She handed Joni back to him, trying to stop herself crying. This was unbearable, she didn’t want to lose sight of her daughter for one moment and yet here she was, handing her over for three whole days.

      It’s for the best, she reasoned with herself. Joni will be safe with her father.

      ‘We have lots of plans, little girl,’ he said to Joni. ‘Your Uncle James and Auntie Liz are coming over with Isobel and Anya tomorrow.’

      Joni smiled, recognising her little cousins’ names.

      ‘Then I’m thinking a day at the beach is in order if it’s not too hot.’

      ‘Sounds fun,’ Anna said, forcing a smile for the sake of her daughter.

      Guy looked at Anna. ‘It’ll all work out, Anna.’

      Joni reached her chubby hand out for her mother. Anna grasped it.

      It had to work out.

      The rest of the evening, Anna tried to relax, picking up one of Florence’s magazines and flicking through it. Then she paused. There was an article about the community centre in The Docks that her gran sometimes helped out at, Anna too, on occasion.

      Could she have met Elliot Nunn at one of those events? She remembered meeting a few of the kids at some event a few months ago. But there had been so many of them, their faces blurring into one. Except one kid, Ben Miller. His father worked as a caretaker for the building where Guy’s architect company was based. His mother had died when he was just eleven, just as Anna’s father had died when she was eleven.

      He worked at the newsagents down the road.

      Before she knew what she was doing, she jumped up, grabbing her cardigan and pulling its hood over her head, putting some sunglasses on.

      ‘Just popping out,’ she shouted up to Florence.

      Florence appeared at the landing, a look of alarm on her face. ‘Out? Anna, is that a good idea?’

      ‘Look at me,’ she said, gesturing to her sunglasses. ‘If I see someone who saw me that day, they won’t recognise me.’

      ‘I