The Promise: The twisty new thriller from the Sunday Times bestseller, guaranteed to keep you up all night

The Promise

KATERINA DIAMOND

Copyright

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Katerina Diamond 2018

Cover photograph © Henry Steadman 2018

Cover design © Henry Steadman 2018

Katerina Diamond asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of 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, down-loaded, 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.

Source ISBN: 9780008209216

Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008209261

Version: 2018-10-02

Praise for Katerina Diamond:

‘Diamond is the master of gripping literature.’

The Evening Standard

‘A terrific story, originally told. All hail the new queen of crime!’

Heat

‘A web of a plot that twists and turns and keeps the reader on the edge of their seat. This formidable debut is a page-turner, but don’t read it before bed if you’re easily spooked!’

The Sun

‘A page-turner with a keep-you-guessing plot.’

Sunday Times Crime Club

‘Diamond neatly handles a string of interlocking strands.’

Daily Mail

‘This gem of a crime novel is packed with twists until the last page.’

Closer

‘A deliciously dark read, Katerina Diamond keeps her readers guessing throughout as she leads us on a very secretive, VERY twisted journey … everything I was expecting from a well-written, pacy thriller.’

Lisa Hall, author of Between You And Me

‘A dark, twisting tale that won’t fail to captivate.’

Mint Velvet

‘Wow, I thought The Teacher was fantastic but The Secret is on another level. Was gripped all the way through and kept me guessing as the story unfolded.’

NetGalley Reviewer

‘Another grim and gory spider’s web from Katerina Diamond – closely following on from The Teacher and not letting up on the twists and turns.’

Goodreads Reviewer

‘An impeccable novel with nail biting chapters … Katerina Diamond deserves the title of Queen of Crime, because I’ll be damned if anyone writes novels like she does. 5* doesn’t do this book justice.’

The Brunette Bookshelf

‘Has the feeling of a nightmare come to life …’

Lovereading

‘The suspense is literally out of this world.’

Compelling Reads

‘A dark and twisted tale that had me gasping in fear.’

Handwritten Girl

Dedication

To Mum.

We’ve been through a lot together and most of it was your fault.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Katerina Diamond

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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

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

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Tonight was the night. Erica looked in her full-length mirror and checked her dress for the umpteenth time. It was more than she would usually spend but it hugged her in all the right places and she wanted to make a good impression. She scrutinised the bedroom to make sure that it was tidy; she had spent the whole morning cleaning the house, just in case. She hoped this was the one.

Erica had met Warren online; they had been talking for some months now. A couple of weeks ago, he’d started speaking to her on the phone and they had taken their relationship to the next level. She knew he was real because she wasn’t stupid; she had been burned by catfish before, people pretending to be someone else, people who were trying to con you out of something. Not Warren though. Erica had pushed to speak on the phone, she had pushed to video call, she had been the one who had gotten intimate first. They had exchanged phone numbers and when she knew he was at work she would send him a cheeky picture of her bra, or maybe the lace band of her underpants that rested on her hip. Warren had told her before that he wanted to go slow, that he wasn’t ready for a relationship yet after a particularly painful break-up with an ex-girlfriend who had cheated on him. But she wanted him to know she was serious. It hadn’t taken long for Erica to see through Warren’s funny and sociable bravado; he was hurting, he was in pain and she would help him heal.

Their conversations were deep, deeper than she had had with anyone else. He always knew the right things to say. It was as though they had known each other forever. Erica had never thought that she was loveable before, but there was an undeniable connection between her and Warren. The biggest issue was that he lived a couple of hundred miles away, nearer to London than to Exeter but tonight that wasn’t going to be a problem.

She left the house clutching her phone in her hand, dreading a notification from Warren to say he was cancelling, that he wouldn’t be at the restaurant when she got there. This was the weekend they were going to meet face-to-face, on Halloween. She could hardly believe it was actually going to happen. Warren had booked a local hotel and was going to stay in Exeter for the weekend, somewhere near to her but not with her; he’d said he didn’t want to put her under that kind of pressure. He was thoughtful like that; even so, she was hoping he would stay over. This was it – she would finally find out if he was her dream man.

Erica walked through the town towards the cathedral, looking at all the people in their costumes, feeling underdressed in her simple outfit. She hadn’t dressed up for Halloween in a long time. The streets were relatively quiet, the few children that did engage in traipsing from house to house for sweets had already gone home for the evening. A gaggle of laughing zombies in tiny skirts stumbled past her, on their way to some pub no doubt. Erica smiled to herself every time she thought about the possibilities of the night ahead. She walked into the Mediterranean restaurant on the cathedral square and hung her coat on the rail in the lobby. She fiddled with the red rose pinned to her blouse. Even though they had seen each other before on camera, they thought it would be fun to wear symbolic red roses for their first date. That’s when she spotted him.

Erica’s heart fluttered as she saw him in the corner, sipping his wine and looking at his phone. She thought how strange it was that they were only just meeting and yet they had already seen each other naked.

As though sensing her arrival, he looked up, and the biggest grin spread across his face. Relieved to see that he wasn’t disappointed, Erica walked over. He stood up and held his hand out to shake hers. She placed her hand in his, all the while looking at his knuckles, his fingers, his skin tone. She was trying to commit this moment to memory because she knew it was important. This was the beginning of the rest of her life.

‘Warren?’ she said, knowing the answer. The smile on her face was beginning to ache. This already felt too good to be true.

He leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. He smelled of expensive aftershave, something understated and slightly feminine, with a little spice to it.

‘It’s good to finally meet you, Erica,’ he said shyly.

‘How is your hotel?’ she asked but regretted it instantly, hoping he wouldn’t think she was alluding to anything.

‘Pretty basic, the bed is quite lumpy and hard. I probably should have forked out for something a little less franchise-y.’

‘Lesson learned for next time, eh?’ She smiled again. He was even better looking in the flesh. His blond surfer hair hung to his shoulders; he looked like something from Sons of Anarchy or a nineties Seattle rock band. His skin was weather-beaten but still somehow perfect. Everything about him was perfect. Why was he looking online for a girlfriend? Why was he interested in her? She could barely understand it but what the hell, this was happening and she was going to enjoy it.

As they both sat down, the waiter came over and took their order. The conversation flowed with such ease that Erica had to warn herself to calm down. Nothing worked out for her, certainly not men, certainly no one as handsome as Warren. She could hear her sister’s voice in her head, telling her to be careful, not to fall too fast – something she had told her a million times. Now that Erica was sitting here face-to-face with Warren, her sister’s words were the furthest thing from her mind.

After finishing their meal, which consisted of the most expensive white wine on the menu, oysters, a seafood risotto and lemon torte, he insisted on paying the bill and they walked out together. He slipped his hand into hers and their fingers interlocked as they walked along the streets. She didn’t want the night to end so they walked through the town together. Instinctively she was taking him to her house. Erica wasn’t ready to let him go yet, not after all this time of waiting to meet him. As they left the town and started walking towards the more residential area, he squeezed her hand. Had he figured out where she was taking him?

Warren kissed Erica on the cheek outside her house on the little side street in Exeter.

‘Thank you for coming, it was great to meet you,’ Erica said.

‘Was it everything you hoped for?’

‘And then some. What time will I see you tomorrow?’ She was testing him, to see if he might ask to come inside – she wanted him to ask.

‘I’ll text you when I’m awake’ he said, backing away slowly, a smile on his face.

She watched him turn and head in the direction of his hotel.

‘Wait!’ she called out.

He turned around. The smile even bigger than before; he knew what she wanted, and she hoped he wanted it too. He walked back towards her quickly and she took his hand, pulling him towards the house as she frantically fumbled around in her handbag for her keys.

They tugged at each other’s clothes as they went up the stairs. By the time they reached the top, they were both in their underwear. She pushed the bedroom door open and they laughed as they fell on the bed, their mouths separated for just long enough before locking back together again. Before she knew it, he was on top of her; she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed against her. He pulled away, his chest heaving and the smile still wrapped around his face.

‘Do you have a condom?’

‘Uh … sure,’ she said, scrambling for her bedside cabinet. She hoped she had a condom; it had been so long. God, what if they were out of date? Surely the date was just advisory anyway. If she didn’t check then it didn’t matter.

She found an unopened box and threw it at him. He opened it and pulled out the condom, quickly pulling his pants down and putting it on. She lifted her backside and shimmied her underpants off too. This was really happening. He lay on top of her again and his face hovered above hers. They both held their breath as he pushed his way inside her. His blond hair tickled her face with every thrust. She lifted her hand and tucked his hair behind his ear, it felt strange, synthetic. She would ask him about it after and they would laugh, she would tell him that she didn’t care about his hair, she loved him for him. Now that she had properly met him she didn’t feel silly for calling what they had love. They’d already been talking online for so long, and knew so much about each other. She did love him.

‘Is this OK?’ he asked.

She felt his hand on her throat and nodded; they had talked about this online. She knew the safe word – something else they had discussed. He was gentle anyway, no pressure at all.

‘You can be rougher if you want.’ She felt his hand close around her throat as he pushed harder into her. She wanted a little danger, something a bit less conventional. They were perfect for each other, this was exactly what she had wanted, exactly what she had told him she wanted.

She started to feel dizzy, combined with the arousal she really was flying now; climax was imminent but she needed to breathe. She didn’t have the courage to see it through. Maybe next time. She imagined the weeks they would spend tangled together between the sheets like this. There was no need to hurry.

‘Yellow,’ she said.

‘Just a little more. Trust me,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘Yellow!’ she said again. That was the safe word, wasn’t it? Wasn’t this the end of it? Wasn’t he supposed to stop now? Instead his fingers dug into her neck even harder than before. She was finding it harder to breathe; she started to pound her fists against him but he just carried on. His grip tightened and she felt the tears streaming down the sides of her face. His thrusting was more aggressive now and she wasn’t enjoying this anymore. She could hear a faint muttering coming from him; she was too disoriented to make out the words, but when she focused enough to see his eyes there was no warmth there, just malice.

‘Stupid fucking bitch.’ She heard his last words and the sound of him laughing as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter 2

DS Imogen Grey and DS Adrian Miles pulled up outside the pale green house on Colleton Hill just outside Exeter city centre. Standing in front of them was a row of picturesque terraced cottages facing a thicket of overgrown bushes and brambles, some evergreen and some not so much. From the ground floor Imogen imagined you could pretend you were right in the countryside in the summer. The street was almost hidden from the big red-brick blocks on the other side of the greenery.

‘Ready to go?’ she asked Adrian, who was wearing his ever-present glazed look. The look of someone who was trying to adjust to life without someone else. Someone trying to pretend they weren’t grieving. He obviously hadn’t been sleeping; he was probably drinking too much again. She couldn’t ask him if he was all right because that wasn’t how this partnership worked. He would talk to her if he needed to, she was confident of that.

‘Yep, let’s go.’ He turned the engine off. They got out of the car and looked at the front door, which was being guarded by a uniformed police officer, PC Griffin. He nodded at them both.

‘What’s the story here then?’ Imogen asked the officer.

‘Young woman, Erica Lawson, didn’t turn up for work yesterday or today. When the boss finally got in touch with her ICE contact, her sister, she came to the house and let herself in. Found Erica upstairs on the bed, called the police immediately.’

‘Did she touch anything in the house?’ Imogen asked.

‘A couple of things, said she let the cat in before she went upstairs and when she saw the body she threw up in the toilet … so she flushed it.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Imogen rolled her eyes.

‘Then she washed her hands and face in the bathroom sink. They’ve taken her to the hospital to get checked out. She’s pretty shaken.’ PC Griffin screwed up his face as he spoke.

‘Jesus.’ Imogen sighed before pulling her gloves out of her pocket and entering the house, Adrian behind her.

Inside, the cottage itself was quaint and traditional in its decoration. There was a smell though, a sweet, unpleasant smell that caught in the back of Imogen’s throat. The floral sofa was adorned with a crochet throw and in the centre of the floor was a jute oval rug under an Ercol coffee table. It was all retro shabby chic, duck egg blues and cowslip yellows. The walls were filled with photo frames, with lots of pictures of two women on various holidays together. Presumably the victim and her sister. Imogen was hit with guilt for being angry with the woman who had contaminated the crime scene. Sometimes you had to try to remember that it was more than just a job, that there were people involved, family, loved ones. Maybe she needed a holiday. Case by case, she could feel her empathy eroding.

She gave herself a shake; it must just be tiredness. When this case was over she might see about having a few days off.

They made their way up the narrow staircase in silence, aside from the creaks and groans of the floorboards. Imogen took a deep breath before entering the bedroom. Time to meet the victim.

The body of Erica Lawson lay on top of the covers, fully dressed. At a first glance, you might think she was asleep; her arms were folded across her waist, almost like the classic image of Sleeping Beauty. But when they got closer, it became evident that the woman’s eyes were open and her body had started to decay.

Imogen had seen a few petechial haemorrhages in her time, enough to know that this was a case of strangulation: the red dots around Erica’s eyes caused by the explosion of the tiny blood vessels that link the smallest parts of your arteries to the smallest parts of your veins. Ignoring the body, the room seemed to be incredibly clean and tidy, immaculate. If there was anything out of place, it wasn’t at first obvious. It was cold though, very cold. The window was open. Imogen made a mental note to double check the sister hadn’t opened it. Maybe whoever did this wanted to confuse the time of death.

They would have to bring the girl’s sister back from the hospital when she was feeling up to it to check if anything had been disturbed. That would happen after the scene had been processed by the crime scene technicians who were all bustling around the room, quietly placing evidence markers and taking photographs.

‘What do you think?’ Adrian said, breaking her train of thought.

‘Well it’s staged, that much is for certain.’

‘Agreed, obviously.’

‘Very controlled.’

‘Look at the buttons on her blouse,’ Adrian said.

‘What about them?’ Imogen peered over at the body. Something was off. What had Adrian noticed?

‘They’re slightly skewed, see? It’s like the fabric is twisted wrong. I don’t think she dressed herself.’

‘Are you thinking she was sexually assaulted?’

‘I don’t know about that, but I can see that she was dressed by someone else, probably after she died. Everything is just sitting wrong.’

He was right, it did look awkward in places. Looking at Erica’s skirt, Imogen could see that it was a back zip that had been done up on the side. She had probably been naked when she died.

‘What about the pose?’ Imogen asked.

‘No idea. Maybe he was trying to respect her?’