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Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Sarah Clarke
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Note to Readers
  8. Prologue
  9. December 2021
  10. Chapter 1
  11. Chapter 2
  12. Chapter 3
  13. Chapter 4
  14. Chapter 5
  15. January 2003
  16. Chapter 6
  17. December 2021
  18. Chapter 7
  19. Chapter 8
  20. February 2003
  21. Chapter 9
  22. December 2021
  23. Chapter 10
  24. Chapter 11
  25. Chapter 12
  26. March 2003
  27. Chapter 13
  28. December 2021
  29. Chapter 14
  30. Chapter 15
  31. Chapter 16
  32. Chapter 17
  33. April 2003
  34. Chapter 18
  35. December 2021
  36. Chapter 19
  37. Chapter 20
  38. Chapter 21
  39. Chapter 22
  40. April 2003
  41. Chapter 23
  42. December 2021
  43. Chapter 24
  44. Chapter 25
  45. Chapter 26
  46. April 2003
  47. Chapter 27
  48. December 2021
  49. Chapter 28
  50. Chapter 29
  51. Chapter 30
  52. Chapter 31
  53. Chapter 32
  54. Chapter 33
  55. Chapter 34
  56. May 2003
  57. Chapter 35
  58. December 2021
  59. Chapter 36
  60. May 2003
  61. Chapter 37
  62. December 2021
  63. Chapter 38
  64. Chapter 39
  65. Chapter 40
  66. Chapter 41
  67. Chapter 42
  68. Chapter 43
  69. Chapter 44
  70. Chapter 45
  71. Chapter 46
  72. Chapter 47
  73. Chapter 48
  74. Chapter 49
  75. Chapter 50
  76. April 2003
  77. Chapter 51
  78. December 2021
  79. Chapter 52
  80. June 2003
  81. Chapter 53
  82. December 2021
  83. Chapter 54
  84. Chapter 55
  85. Chapter 56
  86. January 2022
  87. Chapter 57
  88. Epilogue
  89. A Letter from Sarah Clarke
  90. Keep Reading …
  91. Acknowledgements
  92. Dear Reader …
  93. About the Publisher

She keeps the pills inside the toe of a winter boot, an old pair that she never wears anymore. She was first prescribed diazepam before she met Simon, and it’s always been her little secret. She weaned herself off it completely in Singapore, but there have been a few relapses since then – motherhood can be challenging – and over the years, she’s managed to squirrel away a collection of foil strips in her boot. Just one, to get her through today; that’s all she needs. She places a pill onto her tongue and walks into the en-suite bathroom, dipping down under the tap. The water is icy cold, and she enjoys the feel of it running into her stomach, carrying the much-needed crutch.

With her brain finally calming, she straightens up and stares into the mirror. People have been telling her that she’s beautiful for half her life, and that should be enough time for the message to sink in. Her hair is just brown, but people say it reminds them of dark chocolate. Her eyes get lots of compliments too, for their size and the length of her lashes. And her skin tone is coveted by paler English roses; the smooth warm tan that she sports all year round.

She never gets complimented on her hands though. She lifts them up to her eyeline and turns them at the wrists. The jitters have gone, but her skin feels rough and raw from too much scratching and cleaning. She washes them one more time, then reaches for her Jo Malone moisturiser. As she rubs it over her fingers and across her palms, she thinks about the detective’s business card now in her jeans pocket. And wonders why she didn’t throw it away after all.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mark

Did he really admit to possession of a class-A drug this morning, just so that he could get released with a caution? Mark leans forward on the wooden bench, drops his elbows onto his knees and digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He can’t believe he was arrested in the first place, just because Jon checked out before he got to inject all of his gear. It was like that detective – DC Stone – was punishing Mark for his only mate in London dying.