I fetched it, pulled the pages apart. As I did, a headline caught my eye—
Another Body Found in North London
Olivia Paul?
My spine prickled. A hundred insects crawling along the bone.
I stole a look in my mother’s direction to make sure she wasn’t watching, then quickly scanned the article before she cottoned on to what I was reading and whipped it away. Recently she’d become rather over-protective about the current events I was exposed to. ‘Unsuitable’ her new favourite word.
Police today confirmed that a body discovered in an area of woodland in Highgate, North London is that of schoolteacher Katie Epstein who went missing last Friday after a night out with friends.
Not Olivia. Someone completely new.
Miss Epstein was found naked, a ligature tied so tightly around her neck her larynx was fractured. Although police say there are notable similarities between this crime and the murder of Sheryl North whose body was found on a canal towpath at Hampstead Road Lock, they are yet to confirm whether they believe the murders were committed by the same perpetrator.
Below the article was a photo of the victim. My muscles froze. My stomach writhed with worms.
Two women from very different walks of life; stripped naked, butchered and dumped like trash. Each slim and petite, with dark curly hair worn to their shoulders, just like Olivia Paul, who was still missing.
Even more disconcerting though, they were all the spitting image of my mother.
So much so they could have been sisters.