Never Close Your Eyes by Emma Burstall

50,000-word mark she’d feel that she was really making progress.
    She scrolled down to Chapter Ten and started to reread. ‘A wave of shock surged through Beattie’s body. She stared again at the man over the top of her newspaper. It couldn’t be. It was! He was the man she’d seen hanging around outside her hotel that day. And again in the bar last night. But who was he?’
    Nic felt a tingle of pleasure. The action was hotting up. She continued to read until she got to the bit where she’d left off the day before yesterday. She began to type:
    â€˜Beattie finished her drink quickly and paid the bill. She decided to call on Adamou on her way home to see what he thought.’
    Nic loved writing about Beattie, a beautiful, mixed-race investigative journalist with long black hair that she smothered in oil so that it went ringletty. Beattie was everything that Nic would like to be: brave, adventurous, brimming with self-confidence.
    She’d sent Beattie to Niger to investigate the gruesome discovery of a child’s body – a girl – in the River Severn, with her liver and kidneys removed. Police reckoned that the girl might have been killed for her body parts. A number of other children had gone missing from the area where the girl came from and rumours abounded locally that the parts were being sold to rich westerners for transplantation.
    In Niamey, Niger’s capital, Beattie had become friendly with Adamou, a handsome young artist she’d met in a bar who seemed keen to help her with her investigations. They’d soon started a steamy affair.
    Nic thought for a moment.
    â€˜He came to the door in his shorts and sandals – and nothing else. When he saw that it was Beattie, he grinned with delight.
    â€˜â€œCome in, beautiful,” he said, pulling Beattie by the arm into the dark interior. “I’ve been thinking about you.”’
    The doorbell rang. Bugger. Nic quickly closed the document and raced downstairs two at a time. ‘Coming,’ she shouted.
    She could hear Dominic pushing against the door. Why did he do that? He was so impatient. She pulled the door open and he fell forwards, practically knocking her over as he barged into the hallway.
    â€˜Careful,’ Nic scolded. She smiled at Evie, standing behind Dominic. Evie was taller than Nic, but only by a couple of inches, and rounder. She wasn’t fat, far from it, but she did have this large bust that she tried – and usually failed – to disguise.
    Today she was wearing a long-sleeved, pale-pink T-shirt that suited her pretty, peaches-and-cream complexion. There was a good inch of cleavage peeping out of the V-neck. You couldn’t avoid it. She grinned back, revealing the endearing gap between her two front teeth.
    â€˜Thanks for giving him a lift,’ Nic said. ‘Coffee?’
    Evie shook her head. ‘I promised I’d get new school shoes for Freya. Her old ones are wrecked.’
    Nic glanced over Evie’s shoulder and caught sight of Freya in the passenger seat of the battered silver Renault Espace. Michael was in the back. Freya turned and gave a half-smile.
    â€˜Michael can stay here,’ Nic said brightly. ‘I’ll give him tea. I imagine shoe shopping isn’t his idea of a good time?’
    â€˜Too right.’ Evie frowned. ‘But you’re always—’
    Nic raised a hand. ‘Dom will be delighted and it’s no trouble, honest. Maybe you can stay for a glass of wine later?’
    Evie smiled. ‘That’s really kind . . .’
    â€˜Settled.’ Nic grinned. Michael was already getting out of the car.
    â€˜Am I staying?’ he asked hopefully. He must have clocked something in the women’s body language. ‘Please, Mum?’
    â€˜All right.’ Evie ruffled his hair. ‘You’re saved from the shoe torture – this time.’
    â€˜Yesssss!’ Michael punched the