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Back The Family Next Door Save as PDF
Chapters (117)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  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. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
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  108. 103
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  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Charlie narrowed his eyes. He was a tall, heavy-set boy. Glasses. A sweep of acne across his forehead. “Bailey?”

Aster got the impression that although Charlie was the muscle of the gang, Bailey was its leader. He steadied the bike and held her hand as she dismounted inelegantly. Aster was glad she was wearing denim shorts and not a skirt.

Bailey gave a half shrug. “Could be fun.” He was still holding Aster’s hand. His thumb brushed hers. Don’t let go.

“What do you think, Aster?” He had an amused expression on his face. The other two boys looked at her—Charlie with a hard, appraising stare, Marco with a kind of hopeful relief.

Aster’s insides squirmed. Her conscience warned her away from Lovell, from this whole sordid situation. But Bailey’s fingers were threaded through hers, and she was lonely and weak.

“I’m always up for some fun.” She cringed inwardly, but the reaction from the boys was instantaneous.

Charlie’s face broke open in surprise and he saluted her, a new respect in his eyes. Bailey squeezed her hand, hot breath in her ear, “I knew you were one of us.”

Only Marco shook his head slowly, naked disappointment on his face.

“Tonight,” said Charlie. “Here. Two a.m.”

58

58

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 1:54 P.M.

The copse

All around her the birds were singing.

Olivia Lockwood ran her tongue across her cracked lips. She could taste blood and mud, and she felt like her legs were on fire. From a faraway place, she could hear the low growl of machinery. She groped for the word, but could not find it, although she knew it had something to do with cutting grass and the garden and a fresh, sweet smell.

Her eyes would not open, and when she tried to move, to relieve her body of the discomfort of the twigs and stones digging into her back, pain was everywhere, setting off flashes of light. From somewhere inside came the knowledge that she should not be here and that something terrible had happened, but she could not untangle these thoughts or smooth them into sense, and instead, with barely a sigh, Olivia Lockwood tumbled back into the black hole of unconsciousness.

59

59

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 1:55 P.M.

32 The Avenue

Detective Constable Bernie French sniffed his armpits. Fresh as a fucking daisy. He had a spring in his step as he walked down The Avenue, the bounce of a man who had gotten his own way.

He checked his watch. He wasn’t a stickler for punctuality, but he was excited and had arrived early for his role as ringmaster in this particular circus.

Mr. I’m-Too-Tired-to-Talk Lovell was about to get the shock of his life.