Remember Me: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist. D. White E.

she was still drunk. Of course she did occasionally get hammered, but not often. And she never drank whilst she was on a case. Collapsing onto the toilet, head in hands, she tried to force her brain to respond, searching frantically for any memories. The dinner, the pub, and the door closing behind her as people called their goodbyes. The air outside had been icy enough to make her gasp. Had she been holding on to someone’s arm?

      The nausea passed, but realising her left leg was stinging, itching even, Ava leant down, puzzled by the long livid scratch. What the fuck had she been doing last night?

      Now Mrs Birtley was rapping smartly on the door. ‘Ava? Are you all right? There is a man here to see you. I’ve asked him to wait downstairs.’

      ‘What? To see me?’ The pink bathroom was spinning slowly again, a vanilla-scented nightmare that prodded at Ava’s unsettled stomach.

      ‘Ava!’

      She gathered herself, flushed the toilet and hung on to the sink for dear life. ‘I’m fine, Mrs Birtley. Who… who did you say was here to see me?’

      Ava could hear the note of malicious excitement in the older woman’s voice. ‘He’s a Mr Jennington, and he says he’s the private investigator Jackie and Peter hired. Apparently you agreed to speak with him yesterday. He’s a lovely man, and we’ve already had a chat, so no hurry for you to get yourself down, if you’ve been having a lie-in.’

      Fuck, the Smiths and their investigations – she’d totally forgotten. But had she really said today? ‘I’ll be right down… Tell him… I just need to get dressed, please Mrs Birtley.’

      As soon as the footsteps tapped away, Ava heaved into the pink toilet, throat burning with bile, coughing and groaning.

      Twenty minutes later she was showered and dressed, pale but controlled, and ready to face Mr Jennington. She hadn’t even formulated a proper plan, beyond trying to persuade Ellen’s parents that their daughter really had run away. Was this a sign she could do more? Short of telling the truth, which after all these years she had no right to do, it was hard to see what else could happen. But her mind was still foggy, and her steps were too careful. What had happened last night?

      He was younger than she expected, and immaculately dressed in yellow cords and a bottle green jumper. A tweed jacket hung over one of the chairs and a leather satchel was open on the wooden floor. PIs were a bit of a wildcard. She’d worked with good ones, and shit ones. There were a lot of ex-cons and a lot of ex-cops. It didn’t always make for a great mix on a case. Fingers crossed Ellen’s parents hadn’t hired a lemon. Or maybe fingers crossed they had?

      ‘Miss Cole, thank you for agreeing to meet me.’ He rose from his chair, to shake hands. ‘I’m Alex Jennington. I understand you’re with the LAPD?’

      His face was thin and pale, grey eyes small, like hard pebbles. Although he smiled, there was no warmth in his tone or expression. He had a slightly upper-class English accent. Shiny shoes, too.

      Ava sighed. ‘No problem. I’m not sure if I actually fixed a time, but as you’re here… Like I said to Ellen’s parents, I’m not sure how I can help. Everything I know was said at the time. Sorry, I was meeting up with old friends last night, and we had a few too many. I feel like death this morning.’ She returned his smile with a cold one of her own.