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Back Stalker Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. EPILOGUE
  63. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  64. MORE FROM GEMMA ROGERS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  66. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

Ben pulled away, as I thought he would. Before he could object, I rose onto my tiptoes and pushed my lips against his. Softly at first but then with urgency. After a few seconds he wrestled me away, holding me at arm’s length.

‘Eve?’ I knew he was thinking ‘what about Amy?’ but I didn’t give a shit about her. I needed him, there in that moment. He had to know how I felt in case this was our last chance. I was tired of hiding it anyway. I forced my lips back upon his, daring him to stop me, but he didn’t.

Later, I woke as the sun prised its way through the curtains. Ben snoring beside me and my head pounding, hangover in full swing. I desperately needed the toilet and a drink. Had I been chewing sandpaper last night? Creeping out of bed, I slipped on my pyjamas. Pausing to take in the fleece material. To think I’d worn those as an outfit for seduction. I tiptoed out of Ben’s room, easing his door closed so as not to disturb him. I had no idea what this meant for us. No words had been spoken. For all I knew Ben would wake, distraught at the terrible mistake he’d made. I didn’t want to wait to see that look in his eyes. To see him choose her over me.

53

SUNDAY 28 JANUARY 2018

I’m taken back to my cell, my interview with the detectives concluded. This must be it now, the questioning finally over. I’m itching for a cigarette and knowing I can’t have one is making me irritable. No one has so much as glanced through my viewing hatch in ages. I think it must be a handover of staff, the changing of shifts. The van will be on its way to pick me up.

I sit, jiggling my legs and chewing what is left of my thumbnail. How did it go so wrong? I want to be at home, reunited with Ben. At least he has Amy and I know he will look after the flat for me. I trust him to take care of things while I’m gone. Will I get bail? Will I be allowed home before the trial? Surely not on a murder charge; I don’t hold out much hope. Although it’s possible, I have no previous record. I can’t think about it now; my mind is consumed with thoughts of spending the night in prison.