The Runaway Girl (Jade Riley Mysteries Book 4)

Three Missing Girls. One Dangerous Truth Beneath Lagos

When journalist Jade Riley begins investigating the disappearance of three young girls in Lagos, she expects a challenging story—but not one that will threaten her own family. As she digs deeper, Jade uncovers a hidden network of exploitation fueled by wealth, influence, and silence.

At the same time, fourteen-year-old Yinka flees a harsh life in her rural village, chasing the promise of something better in the city. Instead, she finds herself trapped in a world far more dangerous than the one she left behind.

As their paths collide, Jade and Yinka are drawn into the same high-stakes fight for survival. With time running out, Jade must expose the truth before more lives are lost—and before those pulling the strings close in on her and the people she loves.

Set against the vivid backdrop of Lagos, The Runaway Girl is a gripping, fast-paced mystery that explores resilience, courage, and the human cost of hidden crimes. The fourth installment in Andrea Barton’s Jade Riley series delivers tension, atmosphere, and a story that lingers long after the final page.

Start reading The Runaway Girl today and uncover the truth behind the headlines.

Excerpt from the book

Sunlight streamed through glassless church windows. The shutters stood open to catch any hint of a salty breeze. No bigger than a basketball court, the building doubled as the village school. Jade fanned her rainbow T-shirt against the muggy heat. Posters on the concrete walls reminded her of Sunday school classes as a kid: The greatest of these is love written on a cross, and All creatures great and small on a photo of a mouse perched on the trunk of an elephant. One swipe of the sinewy trunk would fling the tiny rodent into oblivion.

Missionary Lady Ironsi, who’d founded the Mahayi school ten years earlier, swept inside. ‘Welcome.’ She hugged Jade’s friend, Ziva, then Jade. ‘Thank you for coming.’ Her faded floral dress, cinched at the waist, gave her the look of a 1950s housewife.

They sat on a pew in the still heat.

Ziva smoothed her sleek black hair and pointed to several boxes on the floor. ‘We brought schoolbooks donated by the American international school. I hope they’ll be useful.’

Since moving to Lagos for her husband’s promotion, Jade’s two children attended the American school, which had impressive facilities, including soccer fields, a pool, science labs and an assembly hall.

‘We’re running a clothing drive next week.’ Ziva’s devotion to running the foundation supporting Lady Ironsi’s school highlighted Jade’s lack of purpose. Jade, a freelance journalist, supported Ziva where she could and wrote a few articles about her experience in Lagos, but she craved a meatier project.

‘Thank you.’ Lady Ironsi stared outside at her students, concern lining her face.

‘Everything okay?’ Jade asked.

Lady Ironsi sighed. ‘Two of my students are missing. They moved to the city for work and haven’t been heard from since. Their parents are frantic.’

‘How long have they been gone?’ Ziva asked.

The teacher lowered her head. ‘A few months.’

‘Can we do anything to help?’ Jade wiped her damp palms on her capri pants, imagining the unbearable gut-wrench if her children disappeared.

Lady Ironsi caught her eyes. ‘Aren’t you a journalist? What if … an article in the press, an appeal for information?’

A frisson of excitement ran up Jade’s spine at the headline potential, but she held back. Since having Natalie seven years ago, she’d resisted writing about crime. After a last piece on a serial rapist in Melbourne, she’d focused on parenting and the arts. Not that the Mahayi girls were necessarily victims of a crime; they might have a legitimate reason to stay out of contact. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person—’

‘I’ve already approached several Nigerian journalists’—Lady Ironsi lifted her hands, palms up—‘but they were too busy and said they didn’t have enough information to go on.’