The Family Lie Read online

  Praise for P L Kane

  ‘Stunning suspense … You’ll be turning those pages faster than you can say, “Didn’t see that coming.” Fabulous book. 5* from me.’

  – Helen Fields, bestselling author of Perfect Remains, Perfect Death and Perfect Kill.

  ‘What are you doing to me, P L Kane? … I think my heart might be broken. Cracking thriller …’

  – Jo Jakeman, bestselling author of Sticks and Stones and Safe House.

  ‘Riveting domestic thriller with a razor-edged twist, courtesy of a new top talent.’

  – Paul Finch, Sunday Times bestselling author of Strangers, Shadows and Stolen.

  ‘A dark, twisty tale with an emotional heart.’

  – Roz Watkins, bestselling author of The Devil’s Dice and Dead Man’s Daughter.

  ‘Tense and twisty! A few times I held my breath and raced through the pages to immerse myself in more of the story.’

  – JA Andrews, author of Mummy’s Boy.

  About the Author

  P L KANE is the pseudonym of a #1 bestselling and award-winning author and editor, who has had over a hundred books published in the fields of SF, YA and Horror/Dark Fantasy. In terms of crime fiction, previous books include the novels Her Last Secret and Her Husband’s Grave (a sellout on Waterstones.com and Amazon.co.uk), the collection Nailbiters and the anthology Exit Wounds, which contains stories by the likes of Lee Child, Dean Koontz, Val McDermid and Dennis Lehane. Kane has been a guest at many events and conventions, and has had work optioned and adapted for film and television (including by Lions Gate/NBC, for primetime US network TV). Several of Kane’s stories have been turned into short movies and Loose Canon Films/Hydra Films recently adapted ‘Men of the Cloth’ into a feature, Sacrifice, starring Barbara Crampton (You’re Next), which sold to Epic Pictures/101 Films. Kane’s audio drama work for places such as Bafflegab and Spiteful Puppet/ITV features the acting talents of people like Tom Meeten (The Ghoul), Neve McIntosh (Doctor Who/Shetland), Alice Lowe (Prevenge) and Ian Ogilvy (Return of the Saint). Visit www.plkane.com for more details.

  Also by P L Kane

  Her Last Secret

  Her Husband’s Grave

  The Family Lie

  P L KANE

  HQ

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  1st Floor, Watermarque Building, Ringsend Road

  Dublin 4, Ireland

  First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2021

  Copyright © P L Kane 2021

  P L Kane 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 © September 2021 ISBN: 9780008372255

  Version: 2021-08-26

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Praise for P L Kane

  About the Author

  Also by P L Kane

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Two

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Part Three

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Part Four

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Extract

  Acknowledgements

  Dear Reader …

  Keep Reading …

  About the Publisher

  To Martina Cole, terrific writer and a wonderful friend.

  Prologue

  It was the noises outside that woke them. Woke him.

  Noises outside the tent they were sharing, camping in the woods, part of the region known as Green Acres. Todd had woken first, sitting bolt upright when he became aware of the sounds – of someone … something out there in the undergrowth. The snapping of twigs on the ground, the swish of leaves and branches being pushed aside. He glanced across at Candice in the dimness, tucked up in the sleeping bag beside him. She was just starting to stir, though whether it was because of his movements or the ones not far away beyond the thin material surrounding them was unclear.

  ‘D-Did you hear that?’ Todd asked her, trying and failing to say it without his voice cracking.

  Bleary-eyed, Candice gaped at him. ‘What time is it?’

  Todd had no idea. Late. Middle of the night. It only felt like he’d been asleep for a few minutes, having taken ages to drop off in the first place. Candice, on the other hand, had been fast asleep as soon as her head hit the inflatable pillow. And, in lieu of any kind of proper rest, he’d simply watched her by the light of the small battery-powered lamp before he’d had to turn it off, as she breathed in and out softly. That beautiful face, skin the colour of caramel, jet-black hair that hung in ringlets, Todd reckoned he was pretty much the luckiest man alive. And not for the first time he wondered just how he’d managed to end up with her.

  They’d met at uni, both studying psychology – a class taught by one Dr Robyn Adams, who worked with the police on certain cases so was a bit of a celebrity on campus. They’d been best friends first, then it had developed into something more. And when they’d finished their course, he’d suggested this holiday because who knew where they’d end up in the future. Something cheap, because they were skint, and he knew Candice loved the outdoors. They could go on walks in the daytime, cook on an open fire and eat under the stars. Didn’t get much more romantic than that.

  And at night-time, snuggle up in a sleeping bag and … well, you know.

  Hadn’t exactly turned out the way he’d imagined though, had it? First, they’d spotted those creepy-looking folk out and about, when they’d been searching for somewhere to set up camp. Just two or three of them out for a walk in nature probably – but they’d all been wearing the same thing, those weird cream-coloured tunics and trousers.

  ‘They look like they’re in a cult or something,’ Candice had joked, fan of horror movies that she was. ‘Probably doing a bit of Devil worshipping!’ But Todd hadn’t
found it funny. Hadn’t found it funny at all and was glad when they’d passed by out of sight.

  Then there was getting stung by that wasp, which apparently set a precedent. Everything that walked, flew or crawled in those woods seemed to have it in for Todd, it was like they knew he wasn’t used to being out here. He was also absolutely knackered, had barely slept since they got here – and not in the fun way. Todd just found it so hard to drift off with all the strange noises around him, was too much of a city boy he guessed; and this was just such a long way from it all. The sounds of nature were louder in his own skull than the hum of traffic and buzz of people he’d grown used to. More alien to him than anything, though nothing like the noises that particular night.

  ‘Listen!’ he whispered to Candice.

  ‘What …?’ she answered, looking for her phone so she could find out the time, flicking on the light. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘There!’ said Todd, who could distinctly hear something stumbling about outside. Maybe it was those people in tunics back again?

  ‘It’s just the sounds of the woods, babe,’ Candice told him. The same thing she’d been saying for ages. ‘Probably a deer or something.’

  ‘A deer?’ He was aware he wasn’t really coming off as manly by this point, but the thought of something trampling their tent with them inside it wasn’t exactly relaxing.

  Candice couldn’t keep the grin from her face. ‘Yeah, you know. A deer. Don’t worry about it. Won’t hurt you.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like a deer to me,’ he informed her. And it didn’t. It sounded bigger than that kind of animal. What if it was something else, some other kind of wild creature?

  Something more ferocious.

  As if reading his mind, Candice said, ‘Hey, did you ever see that movie with the soldiers and the werewolves? How that started, with one of those things ripping into the tent?’ She was doing this deliberately to wind him up. Candice knew he didn’t care for those kinds of films, that he had a tendency to let his imagination run riot. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’

  Might not be a werewolf – because those didn’t exist, he wasn’t that stupid – but what if it was something else? A nutter or whatever, a crazy cabin person living in the woods with a taste for human flesh? Or a witch, like in that old found footage movie people had thought was real at the time? This place definitely had a history. And hadn’t he read somewhere it was also a UFO hotspot, out in the middle of nowhere? That there had been abductions and such? Those kinds of things he did believe in, Close Encounters and all that. Spoiled for choice with the options …

  He thought about voicing his concerns, but he was already going down in his girlfriend’s estimation, he realized. God, who’d want to be with such a wuss?

  Then the noises came again and this time Candice looked up. Looked worried. ‘Now that I did hear.’

  Thank Christ for that, it was loud enough! Sounded like Godzilla and King Kong wrestling out there. ‘What should—’

  ‘We should probably take a look,’ she suggested. ‘At least see what we’re dealing with.’

  But what if it deals with us first? thought Todd, who’d changed his mind. He was beginning to wish this was a horror flick, because then he could simply switch it off. Or be safe in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. Usually.

  ‘Really?’ he asked.

  Candice nodded and took his hand. ‘We’ll look together.’

  ‘O-Okay,’ he said, voice cracking again.

  His girlfriend led the way, unzipping the tent and peering out. After a few moments, she turned and said in hushed tones, ‘I can’t see anything. Can you?’

  Todd joined her and his eyes searched the space in front of him. It was pitch-black out there, and he had a job even making out the shapes of trees, of branches. Maybe they should flash that phone light around, or grab the lamp? Would that attract attention? Would it be worse to see than not? ‘No, I—’

  He froze, squeezing her hand. The loud rustling noises were coming again, only this time he could see the source of it. Something was lit up, stumbling through the darkness: a figure. Todd’s mind went to those UFOs again, to glowing aliens.

  More alien to him than anything.

  ‘Is that … Jesus, Todd – I think that’s a person!’ cried Candice. ‘But what’s … Is that a torch they’ve got or—’

  No, definitely not a torch. Because the whole figure was shining with the kind of brightness not even the strongest torch would give off. And the light was coming from everywhere at once.

  That was when he smelled it, the unmistakably sweet aroma of cooking flesh – similar to the smell of the meat they’d been cooking themselves on campfires. That they’d cooked earlier on the one outside, before making sure it was totally out. It was also then that Todd realized what the figure reminded him of. Not an alien at all, but a certain figure that was thrown onto the bonfire every fifth of November in this country.

  Because the shape, stumbling through the undergrowth and making all that noise – looking for all the world like some kind of stuntman – was, from head to toe, on fire. Ablaze, covered totally in flames. How it was still moving was a mystery to Todd, but moving it was. Crashing on and on towards them, the noise of crackling and popping accompanying the other sounds now.

  Then all of those noises, the ones that had woken them – woken him, Todd – were drowned out by something. The sound of screaming, high-pitched and blood-curdling.

  The sounds of someone who’d finally realized, who understood now that they were being roasted alive.

  Or, more accurately, were burning to death.

  PART ONE

  Green Acres is a stretch of rural land to the north-west of Granfield which encompasses farmland, woodland and even has its own set of caves. At the heart of this region is a village of the same name, which is said to have been founded as a settlement around 100 BC, although its origins probably stretch back much further. It has a rich and varied history which includes the study and practise of witchcraft. More recently, the area has been linked to UFO activity, with people reporting bright lights in the sky and even at eye level.

  It is a popular area for backpackers, ramblers and campers alike, a beautiful and peaceful spot where you are guaranteed to find somewhere to unwind. Lovers of nature are bound to discover something unusual. In fact, you never know what you might spot and those who leave always find themselves returning eventually.

  Chapter 1

  It never failed to surprise him how quickly things could turn.

  How they could escalate, go to shit.

  It never rained … Isn’t that what they always said? One moment everything might be going smoothly – as it had been in this instance, a peaceful Saturday march they’d known about the whole week – and the next …

  PC Mitchel Prescott was on the ground floor (or should that be at ground zero?) with the troops again, where he had been for most of his relatively short career. He had seen first-hand all the things that could go wrong, knew something wasn’t right.

  To begin with, he’d put his edginess down to the call he’d taken before he went on duty, when he managed to finally get some signal; a garbled recorded message that had left him feeling shaken to the core.

  ‘Everything okay, mate?’ freckle-faced Tammy, one of his colleagues, had asked him, noting his reaction.

  ‘What? Oh … oh, yeah.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I said yes, didn’t I?’ He took a breath, regaining his composure. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry, Tam.’

  ‘Not had another falling out with Lucy, have you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, no. Nothing like that. It’s all good.’ But it hadn’t been, had it, and Tammy could see that. Anyone could see that. He’d had no more time to think about it though, shoving his mobile into his pocket. Heading off to the front lines of the march, supressing the thoughts and emotions which were threatening to bubble up to the surface. Memories, feelings. There was no place for any of
that out here; it just wasn’t professional. Keep your mind on the job, Mitch told himself, on the task at hand. Try not to think about—

  This is a message for Mr Mitchel Prescott, we’ve been trying to get hold of you …

  Mitch glanced around at the other uniforms who were with him then, more to take his mind off the situation than anything. Only it had done little for his nerves. Not enough, not nearly enough coppers gathered for his liking.

  ‘Is it me, or are there more protesters than they expected?’ Mitch had observed.

  ‘Hmm, maybe.’ This from another friend of his nearby, Vihaan.

  ‘Well, just look! There clearly are!’ snapped Mitch.

  ‘All right, all right! Keep your hair on,’ Tammy said to him. ‘Seriously, what’s got into you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Mitch answered. ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘You sound it! Are you sure you’ve haven’t had a marital with Lucy?’ Mitch remained silent. She didn’t say anything, but he could see Tammy wondering if he should even be there, as distracted as he was. Mitch was beginning to wonder himself! What had got into him, aside from anything else, was that here they all were with their arses hanging out. Wearing just their standard beat uniforms, complete with caps or helmets, the only difference being their hi-vis jackets so even if it grew overcast they could still be seen.

  Mitch would have preferred riot gear, if he was being honest: full helmets and armour and round shields, like Captain America’s but transparent, made of toughened plastic. But the thinking was that this just antagonized the crowds unnecessarily. For Mitch it was more a matter of taking precautions, just in case. He wasn’t talking about how the French did it, tooled up like there was no tomorrow with rubber bullets on hand. Just sensible, for protection purposes.

  He reminded himself nobody was expecting trouble. That had certainly been coming across loud and clear when Mitch had brought the subject up at that morning’s briefing. Of how few officers would be on hand.

  ‘But sir,’ he’d protested to the Bronze Commander of this operation – a new inspector called Staton. ‘That’s going to leave us incredibly short-handed if—’