Keep Her Secret

PRAISE FOR NO PLACE TO RUN BY MARK EDWARDS ‘No Place to Run is that most wonderful of things – a book that opens with a breath-takingly startling premise and then keeps the momentum going until the very last page . . . Just brilliant, Mark Edwards really is in a league of his own.’ —Lisa Jewell, #1 New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author of The Family Upstairs ‘Like a Reacher, but with a hero like the rest of us.’ —Linwood Barclay, bestselling author of Take Your Breath Away ‘No Place to Run is another cracker from Mark Edwards.’ —Elly Griffiths, Sunday Times bestselling author of the Ruth Galloway Mysteries ‘A tense, nail-biting read.’ —Steph Broadribb, author of Death in the Sunshine ‘Another intriguing, exhilarating, and compulsive read from the master of psychological suspense. Mark Edwards just keeps getting better and better.’ —Emma Haughton, author of The Dark ‘This is a belter of a story. A big screen high tension adventure.’ —William Shaw, author of The Trawlerman ALSO BY MARK EDWARDS The Magpies Kissing Games What You Wish For Because She Loves Me Follow You Home The Devil’s Work The Lucky Ones The Retreat A Murder of Magpies In Her Shadow Here to Stay Last of the Magpies The House Guest The Hollows No Place to Run WITH LOUISE VOSS Forward Slash Killing Cupid Catch Your Death All Fall Down From the Cradle The Blissfully Dead This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2023 by Mark Edwards All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781662508936 eISBN: 9781662508929 Cover design by @blacksheep-uk.com Cover image: © Kichigin / Shutterstock; © Olga Donchuk / Getty; © Nilufer Barin / Arcangel Contents PART ONE Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 PART TWO 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 PART THREE Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Epilogue Letter from the Author Free Short Sharp Shockers Box Set + Bonus Chapter From Keep Her Secret About the Author Follow the Author on Amazon PART ONE Chapter 1 SEPTEMBER 2022 ‘I can’t see the others.’ I turned to follow Helena’s gaze down the slope of the mountain, a jagged wall of rock blocking my view of the path. I listened, expecting to hear voices, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction, carrying our fellow hikers’ words down to where the Krossa River threaded through the valley. Earlier that day, our party had come over the river in a pair of Jeeps, and our guide, Dagur, had chuckled as he told us about a bus that had got stuck at this very point the previous year, its occupants forced to wade through the bitterly cold water with their rucksacks above their heads while the hapless driver tried to get his vehicle moving again. There was no sign of Dagur or the other hikers now. Helena and I were alone. ‘Do you want to wait?’ I asked. ‘Go back?’ Helena removed her beanie for a moment, as if exposing her head to the air would help her think. ‘No. Let’s keep going. They’ll catch us up.’ We walked on. Helena pulled her hat back into place over her dark, shoulder-length hair and took her phone out of her jacket pocket. We were approaching the crest of the slope, looking for a spot from which to take the perfect photo that Helena had been seeking all week. Last night, in our hut further down the valley, I had flicked through the pictures we’d already taken on this trip, starting in Reykjavík five days ago before moving out into the wild countryside. Geysers and volcanic rock and wild ponies. There were hundreds of pictures, each one shining with this country’s almost ludicrous beauty. The geothermal waters of the Blue Lagoon, where we’d taken a much-needed break from all the walking. The frigid, foaming surface of the Atlantic, where we’d seen humpback whales. Lava fields and black beaches. There were pictures of the group and plenty of selfies taken in front of beautiful backdrops, but mostly there were lots and lots of photos of Helena and me together, grinning at the camera. Great pictures. But none of them quite ‘the one’. The perfect photograph Helena was searching for. A little further up the slope, she stopped walking and said, with a voice full of wonder, ‘Look at it, Matthew. Just look at it.’ We stood side by side and, for the hundredth time since I’d come to Iceland, all I could do was marvel. This was Thórsmörk, the Valley of Thor, formed by glaciers, one shimmering behind us, another dominating the view ahead. It was easy to see why this place had been named after a god. Easy, too, to imagine that god slamming down his hammer and causing the eruptions that had sent clouds of ash across Europe a decade ago. There was no sign of any such drama today. Behind the thick grey clouds that skimmed the glaciers’ shining peaks, the sky was a rich blue. It was peaceful. Calm. Standing there, gawping at the beauty before me, I felt both thrillingly alive