My Daughter's Boyfriend

MY DAUGHTER’S BOYFRIEND –––––––– DANIEL HURST –––––––– www.danielhurstbooks.com Table of Contents Title Page My Daughter's Boyfriend PROLOGUE 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 EPILOGUE Download My Free Book ALSO BY DANIEL HURST About The Author Download My Free Book –––––––– If you would like to receive a FREE copy of my psychological thriller ‘Just One Second’, then you can find the link to the book at my website www.danielhurstbooks.com PROLOGUE The missing person poster fluttered in the breeze before taking off completely from the parched desert floor it had been lying on. It sailed through the air beneath a clear blue sky, the thick red lettering across the top of the poster almost as striking as the red mountains that surrounded this dustbowl several miles outside Los Angeles. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? the poster asked, just above a photograph of the person in question. The woman looked to be in her early twenties. She was slender with long dark hair, and appeared to be happy, if the smile in the image was anything to go by. But, of course, the photo had been captured before the woman had gone missing and since nobody knew her whereabouts or what might have happened to her, it was unclear if she was still smiling anymore. As the poster swirled in the strong breeze, it became caught up in a small dust devil, the name given to a whirlwind that can form in the desert when the hot surface temperature of the dry ground interacts with the cooler air above. The poster twisted and spun, its edges curling and the image on the poster going in and out of sight quickly before it was spat out and came to a stop on the ground beside a tumbleweed. As it lay there with the sun beating down on it, the words below the photo were visible. DESPERATE MOTHER SEEKING ANSWERS – PLEASE HELP ME FIND MY DAUGHTER Underneath that was a telephone number for anybody who had information about this missing person to call. But as of yet, nobody had called. A moment later, the poster was picked up by the wind again and sent onwards into the desert at the mercy of the elements and no sooner had it been taken than a black tarantula crawled across the same spot it had once covered. The arachnid was at home in this brutal environment, which was a lot more than could be said for many of the people who ventured out here, leaving the concrete city behind to experience life in the desert. While this was a tricky terrain for Americans to navigate, it was even harder for any Europeans who were not used to such barren and brutal landscapes or, indeed, temperatures. It was only an hour after BEFORE AMERICA 1 DAWN –––––––– It might be summer but that doesn’t mean it isn’t cold and wet as I make my way through town to meet my friends for our weekly coffee catch-up. Cursing my stupidity at not checking the forecast, I must manage without an umbrella while I begrudge how gloomy the weather in England is during a month that should promise sunshine. So much for it being June. Instead, it feels like deepest, darkest January as I dodge puddles and pull the zip on my coat a little higher to keep the warmth in. Fortunately, I don’t have much further to go, and as I cross the street and push open the door in front of me, I’m relieved to have some respite from the rain. I’m struck by the strong smell of coffee as I enter the busy café and see a small line of caffeine-hungry customers waiting to get their turn with the skilled barista on the other side of the counter. But rather than join the back of that queue, I make my way over to the large table by the back window, the one that already has three other women sitting at it. As I get nearer, those three women all notice me approaching and offer a smile and a wave. But it’s the drink I’m offered as I take my seat that is of most satisfaction to me because after a late night and a busy morning, I’m eager for the jolt of magic that exists inside the coffee cup now in my hands. ‘Thank you,’ I say to my three oldest and best friends before I take a sip of my drink because I’m not sure exactly which one of them it was who bought it. But I’m grateful it wasn’t me who had to stand in the queue today, although I will have to do so next week in order to return the favour. ‘You look like you need it,’ says Maggie, the friend I originally made in school but the friend who is still a big part of my life now as each of us negotiates our mid-forties. ‘I do,’ I confirm, placing my hot cup down on its saucer. ‘I’m on night shifts again.’ I’m referring to my job at the 24/7 supermarket where I’ve worked for the past several years - a job