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Back Last Place You Look Save as PDF
Chapters (85)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. Part 2
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. Part 3
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. Epilogue
  82. Acknowledgements
  83. Canelo Crime
  84. About the Author
  85. Also by Louisa Scarr

She nods and he hands her his notebook. She scribbles six digits inside. ‘We’ll be in touch, Mrs Miller,’ Robin finishes. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

He walks outside, the front door closing behind him. Freya is standing next to her car, her back to him, looking down at her phone.

‘Did you see her face?’ Robin directs to her as he approaches. ‘A bit of a domestic, do you think?’

Freya glances back when she hears Robin’s voice and he sees she’s been crying.

He frowns at her. ‘You okay?’ he asks, confused.

She nods, the movement quick and sudden. ‘The victim,’ she asks. ‘What did he look like?’

He shows her a photo on his phone, a picture taken of Jonathan Miller’s driving licence. She looks at it for a second, then screws her eyes tightly shut.

‘Did you know him?’ Robin asks.

She nods again.

‘Were you close? Should you be on this case, Freya?’

She opens her eyes, then takes a long breath in, her vision fixed in the middle distance. Then she turns to him. ‘No, not close. I’m fine. Just a shock, that’s all.’

Robin looks at her, unsure whether to believe her. But when she meets his gaze, she seems genuine. ‘Meet me back at the station,’ he says at last.

Freya leaves, Robin waiting as her car goes out of sight. He turns back to the house. Amy Miller is watching him through the living room window. She raises a slow hand, then disappears, pulling the curtains shut behind her.

Poor woman, Robin thinks. He hopes she’s got someone to call, to help her through. It’ll get worse before it gets better.

He remembers that feeling. The initial incomprehension, the shock. Then the darkness that follows. The darkness that doesn’t fade.

The darkness he still knows now.

5

Freya drives until she is out of sight of her sergeant’s car, then pulls down a side road and stops. She feels dizzy, her breathing is sharp and shallow, but there is nothing she can do to slow it down. The panic is thick.

She holds her phone in her hand, gripping it tightly. She pulls up his contact details, but she can’t call him, she can’t take the risk. But the photo – it was him. Him. Oh god. And that was her – Jon’s wife.

She’s never met her before, and on social media she looks different. She’s lost weight, her face narrower and her hair shorter, but now she recognises the pinched smile and the sharp nose. And Freya had never been to his house, she hadn’t known where he’d lived. It had been where she was; there hadn’t been any need.

Freya remembers the weekend. Waiting. Sitting around, willing him to call. And now he’s dead.

Dead.