Chapters (93)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Sarah Clarke
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Note to Readers
- Prologue
- December 2021
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- January 2003
- Chapter 6
- December 2021
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- February 2003
- Chapter 9
- December 2021
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- March 2003
- Chapter 13
- December 2021
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- April 2003
- Chapter 18
- December 2021
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- April 2003
- Chapter 23
- December 2021
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- April 2003
- Chapter 27
- December 2021
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- May 2003
- Chapter 35
- December 2021
- Chapter 36
- May 2003
- Chapter 37
- December 2021
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- April 2003
- Chapter 51
- December 2021
- Chapter 52
- June 2003
- Chapter 53
- December 2021
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- January 2022
- Chapter 57
- Epilogue
- A Letter from Sarah Clarke
- Keep Reading …
- Acknowledgements
- Dear Reader …
- 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.