The Catch by T. M. Logan

The Catch

The Catch by T. M. Logan
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 1.4 MB

She says he’s perfect. I know he’s lying . . .
He caught me watching, and our eyes met. That was when it hit me.
There was something not quite right about my daughter’s new boyfriend . . .
The doting father
Ed finally meets his daughter’s boyfriend for the first time. Smart, successful and handsome, Ryan appears to be a real catch. Then Abbie announces their plan to get married.
The perfect fiancé
There’s just one problem. Ed thinks Ryan is lying to them.
Who would you believe?
All of Ed’s instincts tell him his daughter is in terrible danger – but no-one else can see it. With the wedding date approaching fast, Ed sets out to uncover Ryan’s secrets, before it’s too late . . .

I sat on the patio, the last rays of evening sunshine warming my face, listening to the warble of skylarks high up in the sycaores that bordered our garden. A Friday in mid-May, the twilight air rich with the tang of cut grass and the wispy smoke of neighbourhood barbecues. Warm enough to sit outside in the garden after dinner, sipping strong dark coffee as my daughter played badminton in the middle of our wide lawn with her new boyfriend.

It was the first time we’d met him, even though Abbie had been seeing him for seven months. He was tall, athletic, with the looks of a catalogue model in a Sunday supplement. Pale pink linen shirt and chinos, his deck shoes dutifully removed in the front porch before he’d even been asked. And there had been no kisses on the cheek for my wife, Claire, or her mother, Joyce – not even an air kiss – just a hand extended to each of them, equality in action. Respectful, not too forward but not stand-offish either. His handshake had been firm and dry, his grip confident as he gave my hand a little extra squeeze.

As I watched the two of them play, Ryan flailed at the shuttlecock, making a big show of overbalancing, tripping, landing flat on his back, still flapping his racket at the air. Laughing as he lay in one of the long evening shadows slanting across the lawn. Abbie’s own laugh was high and pure, rolling and echoing across the garden.

There was a little ripple of laughter from the table beside me too. Claire and Joyce smiling over at the pair.

‘They make a good-looking couple,’ Claire said, stretching her tanned arms above her head. ‘Don’t you think?’

‘I wouldn’t have said no, if I was a bit younger,’ Joyce smiled, sitting forward in her wheelchair. ‘Just look at them together.’

‘Don’t you think, Ed?’ Claire put a hand on my forearm, her fingertips warm against my skin. ‘It’s lovely to see her happy again, isn’t it?’

‘She really seems to like him,’ I said, not meeting her gaze.

It was true: Abbie was happier than I’d seen her in a while. It sounds like a cliché but this evening she was pretty much glowing. These last few months there had been an endless stream of Ryan-this and Ryan-that, as their long-distance weekend relationship developed.

‘He seems like a lovely boy,’ Joyce said.

‘He’s thirty-three,’ I said. ‘Not exactly a boy, is he? Almost ten years older than her.’

‘You know what Mum means,’ Claire said. ‘Look at them together, you can see they’ve got a real connection.’

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