Lost and Found (Lost and Found book 1): A gripping psychological thriller Read online

  Lost and Found

  J.S. Ellis

  All copyright © 2021 Joanne Saccasan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without permission except in the case of quotations or book reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Name, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, locales and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, or actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Black Cat Ink Press

  https://blackcatinkpress.com/

  J.S Ellis

  https://www.joannewritesbooks.com

  Cover Design by Getcovers

  Edited by Melanie Underwood

  Proofread by Jade’s Editing

  ISBN: Ebook 978-99957-1-988-3

  Paperback: 978-99957-1-987-6

  This book is written, edited and proofread in British English

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Lost and Found

  Books by J.S. Ellis | In Her Words | The Secret She Kept | Theodore: The Neighbour’s Cat | The Rich Man

  Lost | And | Found | J.S. Ellis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Three | Months | Later | Chapter Thirty-eight

  To be continued...

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  Books by J.S. Ellis

  In Her Words

  The Secret She Kept

  Theodore: The Neighbour’s Cat

  The Rich Man

  Lost

  And

  Found

  J.S. Ellis

  Chapter One

  ‘Phoebe, wake up!’

  I heard a grunt which was coming from me. I snuggled into the duvet. It was still dark outside and I wanted to stay in bed a little longer. My bedroom door opened and Adele appeared.

  ‘Don’t you have classes today?’ she asked.

  ‘I do,’ I groaned and buried my face in the pillow.

  ‘I made you a cup of coffee. Up or you’re going to be late.’ Adele instructed.

  ‘I hate January.’

  ‘You said the same thing about December,’ Adele laughed. ‘Come on.’ She went over to the window and opened the curtains and the light burst into the room, making me shut my eyes.

  Adele and I were childhood friends. Our parents were neighbours, we went to the same schools and now we’re in the same university, not taking the same classes together but we share a flat. Adele was an only child. I have a brother who’s five years older than me, his name is Tom. Adele and I couldn’t be more different. Adele had wavy blonde hair, which gives her that tousled look. Blue-green heavy-hooded eyes, and full cheekbones. I had straight black hair that falls like a glossy sheet to my back. Large brown, almond-shaped eyes, thick eyebrows, and plump lips which Adele described as “perfect for lipstick”. It was the first time living with someone, and you learn more about a person when living with them. You get to know about their habits, their quirks, what makes them tick. Adele was messy and disorganised. There were pieces of clothing all over the apartment, on the floor, sofa, and armchair. When Adele wanted a drink, she never used the same glass but took out a fresh one and never washed it, which irritated the hell out of me, as there will be no clean glasses for me to drink from. Adele did the dusting, and strangely enough, loved to iron clothes. For someone so messy, it was a surprising quality. Adele said it relaxed her and I couldn’t complain when I could watch TV while I had someone else ironing my shirts. Adele wasn’t one for sauces, so this was my duty. Adele washed the bath, but if there were bits of my hair, I had to remove them. Which was more than fair.

  I dragged my sleepy self out of bed and had a shower. Afterwards, I got dressed in a black turtleneck, mum’s jeans, and trainers. My usual look. Comfortable and practical. I applied mascara on my eyelashes and blusher on my cheeks. Adele sat on a stool by the stainless kitchen counter, tapping on her phone and smiling mischievously. That smile, I knew too well. A smile that showed there was a guy involved. I didn’t ask Adele who she was texting, nor if there was a bloke in the picture, she would tell me in her own time as Adele always did. We were both single, taking time off men. Well, Adele was taking time off from men, I didn’t attract attention as she did. Adele had that bubbly, flirtatious attitude that made her irresistible to men. I was rather detached, aloof, hardly ever smiled, and sarcastic. So yes, we were different.

  ‘I have English Lit,’ she said through her texting and rolled her eyes.

  We were to graduate that year if we passed our finals. Adele in English literature, me in finance. I had my life all planned out. After I graduated, I’d find a job in a big company, and learn all the ropes. Once I settled, I’d rent out a place of my own. Something big, more accommodating preferably, with a view of the Thames. Not that there was anything wrong with this apartment. It was big enough with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room where the black leather sofa sat in front of the TV. Nothing grand, no works of art, we couldn’t afford that. Just cheap picture frames bought from Ikea. All the furnishings were from there; from the hickory furniture to the rugs on the floor.

  Anyway, I fantasised about coming home after a tiresome day to find clean glasses and no clothes lying all over the place. I’d carefully laid my plan out, with the boxes ready to be ticked. I knew I would get there. In this perfectly planned life, I would picture a man, not just any man but him. My eyes moved to the window where our neighbour lives. My Alan. Well, he wasn’t mine. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything like that. I’d never talked to the guy. I didn’t think he was aware I existed. Adele told me his name. She had her way of finding out this kind of information. Alan lived across the street in the more sophisticated looking block. My bedroom had the perfect view of his bedroom, and I liked to watch him. Not in a creepy, I am watching you sort of way, but admiringly from a distance.

  He was by far the most attractive man I ever laid my eyes on. I mean, what a guy. The first time I had seen him
, I was on my way to the apartment and he stepped out from his block. He wore a green shirt under a leather biker jacket and jeans. Simple and classic. Compact. His sense of style didn’t scream fashion-obsessed, quite the opposite, stylish but didn’t give a damn. Cool. He was a sight to behold, way out of my league, but I couldn’t help myself and there was no harm in looking. He was new, wrapped so prettily and delivered to me like a Christmas present. It was love at first sight, on my part. His hair was styled and greased like James Dean. His hair was brown with a touch of auburn, and he had blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. I presumed he was the same age as Tom, in his mid-twenties. I was a girl with a massive crush, but I did nothing about it. Adele knew, of course, and used to tease me about it. Her eyes flickered to the window, then turned her attention back to the phone.

  ‘I’m going out tonight,’ Adele announced.

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll be late.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  We took the bus to the university as usual. Adele had her earbuds on, deep in thought. We were comfortable in our silence, in our familiarity. Adele had a smile on her face, which she couldn’t seem to wipe off. I knew that smile all too well. It was the kind that announced there was a lad involved and tonight, she was going to meet him. I made a mental note to call my parents.

  We walked to the university gate where Hannah and Janice sat under a tree. Hannah held her phone and both were looking at it, smiling. They were Adele’s friends. Although Adele and I had been friends for ages, Hannah and Janice weren’t my sort of crowd. I wasn’t a party girl, obsessed with the latest makeup or hair trend. It seemed so lame to me, but this was what they were into. Who was I to judge? They did their thing while I did mine.

  ‘Hello, bitches,’ Adele said.

  Hannah and Janice snapped to attention.

  ‘Adele!’ both Hannah and Janice squeaked as if it had been ages since they had seen her.

  ‘I hope you’re not taking any selfies without me,’ Adele warned.

  The three of them posed with Adele’s phone as they pressed their lip-glossed lips together and snapped the photo and filtered the shit out of it before posting it to Instagram or Facebook. They asked me to join them, but I wasn’t interested. As I looked around me, everyone seemed so young, immature, and innocent. While I felt much older. I always felt that way I didn’t know why.

  Hannah was a voluptuous brunette and Janice was straw blonde with large round blue eyes.

  ‘Want to join us tonight?’ Hannah asked Adele.

  Adele hesitated, ‘No, I made plans.’

  ‘Really, with who?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘I rather not tell,’ Adele said in a sing-song voice.

  They both gushed and I rolled my eyes.

  ‘You have a date?’ Janice said.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Tell us everything,’ Hannah said.

  Janice turned to me, ‘What about you? Want to join? We’re ordering pizza and relaxing with Netflix.’

  ‘Thanks, but I got to study,’ I said.

  A safe card to play.

  And study I did. My desk was cluttered with books and notes. It was nearly midnight and Adele wasn’t in yet. I didn’t know how she did it. Stay out till the early hours of the morning and be fresh for classes the next day. I couldn’t do it, I was more composed, more conscious, driven to succeed and do well for myself.

  I rubbed my eyes and stood from my desk. The only sound in the apartment was coming from the cuckoo clock in the living room. I strolled to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water and took it with me to the bedroom. I surveyed my desk with dispassion. Maybe, I could just sleep and continue tomorrow, I thought. I closed my books and tidied my desk. When I was done, I took a sip of water, getting ready for bed but first things first. I parted the curtain and his window came into view. He was there, but not alone. There was a girl with him. I gasped, she was only dressed if I could call it that, in matching white bra and knickers. Alan was fully dressed. Her long blonde hair concealed her face so I couldn’t see her properly. I closed the curtain and stared at it in dismay as my heart thumped in my chest. It hadn’t occurred to me that Alan had a girlfriend. He had moved in about five months ago and I’d never seen him with a woman. A guy that gorgeous wouldn’t remain single for long. A woman had to come along and steal him away. I parted the curtain again. The woman had her back to him and he was planting kisses on her neck. His hands glided to her shoulder easing down the strap of her bra, planting more kisses there between her shoulder and neck and her face came to view.

  I slammed my eyes shut and opened them again as if my own eyes were betraying me. It couldn’t be. My body went stiff. I wanted to move from the window, shut the curtain and digest all of this but my feet were paralysed, forcing me to stand there and take it. I parted my lips as a wave of hurt slashed through me. Adele with him! How predictable. We might have been friends, but it was typical of Adele to do something like this. Waves of anger replaced the hurt. So, it was him she was seeing. Was it him she was texting this morning? The reason she had that smile upon her face? Did Adele have his beautiful number on her stupid phone? Did she tell him to leave the curtain open on purpose knowing, at some point, I would look out? No, it was unlike Adele. She wouldn’t do this to me, or would she? I didn’t know anymore. I should have been dragged by the hair out of the apartment and shot twice in the head for telling her about Alan. I should have kept it to myself. It made sense how Adele knew his name, was she already seeing him? Even though, somehow, I had no right for this anger. He wasn’t my boyfriend; I didn’t know the guy it was pathetic really, yet the betrayal that my friend would do this to me. I wanted to shut the curtain, to stop watching like some kind of pervert, but it was like I was leaving my body. Alan unclipped her bra and her breasts came free. I took in her small breasts and her dark nipples, her flat stomach and the belly ring. The butterfly tattoo on her outer thigh. My heart drummed in my ears. How did they meet? Why didn’t Adele tell me? That was what hurt the most, that Adele didn’t have the decency to tell me. Of course, she didn’t owe me anything, but there was a code between women. Especially among friends. My chest rose and fell, heavy and painful.

  Alan’s blue eyes were like lasers burning me. My jaw dropped. I was slammed back into my body. Adele was oblivious, too engrossed in the sensuality to notice. I yanked the curtains, almost tearing them down, and shut them closed.

  Chapter Two

  It was like the room had been enveloped in ice. My chest heaved in and out. It hurt to breathe.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  He saw me.

  So much for the guy who I thought didn’t know I existed. He knew now. As the one who was watching him undressing my friend. I moved away from the curtain as if it would burn me. I paced in the bedroom, my heart racing. I stared at the wall, then turned and gaped through the curtain, only slightly so just my eye could fit. His bedroom light was off. Were they having sex in the dark? That was odd. Was it? Have I imagined the whole spectacle? No, it was too real to be imagined.

  I moved away from the curtain and blinked. So, Adele was dating or sleeping with the guy she knew I liked and didn’t tell me about it. Did Adele think I wouldn’t find out? Well, she always took me for a fool, but I knew which side my bread was buttered. Then another thought wafted in. What if he told her I saw them?

  Adele came home, I’m not sure at what time, but I was wide awake. I lay on the bed, still, as if she would hear me breathe. I heard her cough and move about in her bedroom before there was silence. I didn’t sleep at all. Each time I shut my eyes, I saw Adele and Alan and his eyes struck me like a thunderbolt.

  The next morning, I sat by the kitchen counter with my cereal. I made a bowl for Adele too, unlike her, where she never poured milk on mine, I poured milk on hers so by the time she’d be ready; it went all soft. I never did this before, but today was no ordinary day. It was the least she deserved. I was sipping my coffee when s
he came out, flipping her long blonde hair. I watched her closely, her face had that post-coital glow and my heart thundered. She muttered good morning, poured coffee in a blue mug, and sat across from me. Adele wrinkled her nose at the bowl but said nothing about the cereal drowned in milk.

  ‘Did you have a good night?’ I asked.

  Her phone beeped and she jumped to it. Was it Alan telling her what a great night he had? Were the words great sex-typed somewhere on that phone? His image was forever tainted by the picture of them in bed together. My body tensed.

  ‘What?’ she asked after she replied to whoever it was.

  Did she add him on Facebook too? Would she declare her relationship status to him in the future? My jealousy was alive and seething. I took a sip of coffee. The liquid-filled me with warmth like a hug.

  ‘You seem distracted,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m preoccupied,’ she said. ‘I had a long night.’

  I stood taking my backpack. That you did, I thought, that you did. If I had such a fox in my bed, sleep was the last thing I would do. I left from the back door. I was reluctant to use the front door, afraid I’d run into him. I never did, but now I didn’t know if he’d make it a point that we’d run into each other. Why would someone leave the curtain open when they were about to have sex? Somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whole act, leaving the curtain open, him looking straight at me, was directed at me and I didn’t know why. It freaked me out and I was alarmed. What could he do? Confront me? It would be embarrassing to stand there and talk about something so intimate when he didn’t know me. But we had Adele floating between us, a connection, something we had in common.

  During lunch, I was out in the yard eating a sandwich with a book I wasn’t reading and replying to Tom’s text. I didn’t tell him about Adele, it was silly to mention it and he wouldn’t understand; even though we were close, we weren’t so close as to discuss our love troubles. He had been in a steady relationship for two years with Holly. My brother worked in IT, Holly in marketing. Greg walked past and stopped. I tried not to groan in frustration. Greg was a fellow student, studying English literature with Adele, and I suspected he had a crush on me. Greg was tall, around six feet two, with ginger hair like a carrot, that sort of thing.