BooksBarbecue
Back Before You Were Gone
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-one
  24. Twenty-two
  25. Twenty-three
  26. Twenty-four
  27. Twenty-five
  28. Twenty-six
  29. Twenty-seven
  30. Twenty-eight
  31. Twenty-nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-one
  34. Thirty-two
  35. Thirty-three
  36. Thirty-four
  37. Thirty-five
  38. Thirty-six
  39. Thirty-seven
  40. Thirty-eight
  41. Thirty-nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-one
  44. Forty-two
  45. Forty-three
  46. Forty-four
  47. Forty-five
  48. Forty-six
  49. Forty-seven
  50. Forty-eight
  51. Forty-nine
  52. Fifty
  53. Fifty-one
  54. Acknowledgements
  55. An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
  56. Canelo Crime
  57. About the Author
  58. Also by Sheila Bugler

The tips of her fingers were raw and bloodied from trying to scrape away some of the wood at the top of the door. She’d thought if she could just make enough space to press her mouth against it, she might be able to shout loudly enough to be heard. But the wood was hard and thick and all her efforts hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference.

Every part of her was exhausted. And cold. So cold. She’d stopped feeling her feet some time ago. She tried to keep stamping them, moving around to keep the blood flowing around her body, but trying to move in this cramped space was exhausting. Now, all she wanted to do was lie down and give up. Because what was the point of fighting and trying to keep going if no one was going to come? She didn’t know how long she had left, but it was hours, surely, not days. The cold would get her eventually. One by one, her organs would shut down and her body would simply give up. It would be over.

She thought of the mobile home that would soon be empty, and all the long, lonely days she had to look forward to. Maybe it was better to go now. She’d already lived the best years of her life. She’d been young once. Young and attractive and in love. She’d had a job she loved, a husband she loved even more, and a whole heap of ambition raging inside her, driving her to achieve more and more.

It had all ended, of course. You could only sustain that way of living for a limited amount of time. Working hard and playing harder – it wasn’t a long-term life plan, but she’d loved it too much to give it up voluntarily.

And afterwards, when her world had come crashing down, she’d had to find a new way of living. A simpler existence that brought its own precious rewards. Like the joy of watching a little boy grow up and letting him become a part of her life until she could barely remember what it had been like not to have him around. But now that was coming to an end, what did she have left? Nothing.

She pulled her knees up against her chest, her head and back resting against the door because it was slightly less cold than the stone wall. She let her eyes close, and the pleasure that came from not trying to keep them open was beautiful. It was time to go. She’d found her peace with that now.

The sound of a car, braking suddenly, brought her back. Her eyes shot open, a surge of adrenaline putting all her senses on high alert. She could hear more voices now. At least one woman and one man, possibly more.