BooksBarbecue
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
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. 80
  86. 81
  87. 82
  88. 83
  89. 84
  90. 85
  91. 86
  92. 87
  93. 88
  94. 89
  95. 90
  96. 91
  97. 92
  98. 93
  99. 94
  100. 95
  101. 96
  102. 97
  103. 98
  104. 99
  105. 100
  106. 101
  107. 102
  108. 103
  109. 104
  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

His laugh bulged with bitterness. Then, as a concession to Wildeve’s question, “We’re doing our best. That’s one of the reasons we moved here.”

“And is it working?”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t care. “Who knows? But if we’re to make a new start, I—it’s—this state of limbo is damaging to us all.” His voice cracked. “I don’t think she loves me anymore.”

He started to cry and her own eyes pricked. In his loneliness, she saw the reflection of her own. Wildeve got up from the table, stood behind his chair and touched his shoulder to comfort him. He looked up at her and she looked back, and then, from nowhere, the moment stretched into something else, and he was half out of his seat, moving toward her, his hand drifting up her back, and she didn’t move. Didn’t know what to think or what to feel except that she didn’t want to pull away because the touch of someone, anyone, was better than nothing at all.

The front door slammed. Both Wildeve and Garrick jumped. He dropped his hand and started out of the chair.

A mumbled apology. And then, “Liv?” The hope in his voice was convincing.

The kitchen door flew open.

But it wasn’t Olivia Lockwood. Instead it was her daughter, tallow-faced and trembling.

“Aster?” He was sharp with disappointment, and shame at his own behavior. “Where have you been?”

“Is Mum back yet?”

“No, love.”

Aster burst into tears. “There’s a man on the street who’s killed his wife and he’s got a gun and he was shouting and what if he’s got Mum?”

The detective moved so quickly she knocked into a chair and it scraped across the kitchen floor.

“Who is he?” she said. Again, more urgently. “Who is he?”

Aster could hardly speak because she was crying so hard. “I think his name is Trefor Lovell.”

Wildeve’s stomach plunged, and she was running down the hall, and all the while these words beat a drum into her brain: French was right, French was right, French was right.

64

64

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 2:23 P.M.

32 The Avenue

Trefor Lovell was screwed.

He knew it, and when the police officer lying on his bedroom carpet woke up, he would know it, too.

Trefor crouched next to the man and eased a pillow under his head. Tilted his chin in case he was sick. Five minutes or so. If he hadn’t come round by then, he’d call the ambulance himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Muttered an expletive and placed his fingers on the pulse point at the base of the detective’s throat, to make sure he was still breathing. He was. Trefor thanked the heavens for small mercies.