Читать книгу Traces of Her - Amanda Brittany, Amanda Brittany - Страница 9

She lies on the sand dressed in yellow satin, a ring of sodden flowers clinging to her blonde hair like seaweed. The pendant around her slim neck says ‘Mummy’ – a gift from Willow.

Grasses stir in the howling wind and a mist rolls in from the Celtic Sea, moving over her lifeless body – ghosts waiting to take her hand and lead her away from this lonely place where seagulls cry.

A man will come soon. He walks his border collie at the same time each morning along the same sandy path that edges the sea in Bostagel, and today will be no different.

He will stride with the aid of his stick; grey hair flapping in the wind, calling after his dog. Content with his lot.

Then he will see her body, and her sister’s wedding dress folded neatly on the rocks. The shock will stay with him forever.

He will call the police.

Sirens will pierce the silent air.

The youngest Millar girl is dead. Stabbed repeatedly.

‘Rest in peace, young Millar girls,’ they will say.