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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
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  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

She cast her mind back, trying to reassure herself that she had followed procedure to the letter. She knew she had done the right thing.

His words still stung, though.

She had hoped that Sampson would urge her back into service, that her arrest of Lovell would make him realize she was an essential cog in the machinery of the investigating team, but his clipped tone had told her everything she needed to know. Run along now, there’s a love. He had even threatened her with disciplinary action if it turned out that she had messed up Lovell’s arrest, jeopardized a future trial. Naive, that’s what she’d been.

The news had broken within a couple of hours. She’d heard it on the radio, driving home. Police investigating The Doll Maker murders have a suspect in custody. The body of a woman has been recovered from a property in The Avenue near Rayleigh, Essex.

Put like that, it didn’t look good for Lovell. Naturally, the press office hadn’t confirmed his arrest for murder, because it wasn’t true. Yet. But they hadn’t denied it, either, simply stating that a seventy-one-year-old man had been arrested on suspicion of assault. It would quieten the detractors for a while, at least. Give the team some time to search Lovell’s house and gather evidence. Breathing space.

The incident room would be buzzing with this injection of adrenaline. She could almost taste the stale water and feel the glare of the strip lighting on her skin. If she closed her eyes, she could hear Adam’s voice, calling across the room to another officer, the rumble of discussion and debate about the best way to proceed. The gritty tiredness behind her eyes. They would be taking Lovell’s house apart, looking for clues, examining what they had discovered and what they already knew. She should be there.

Adam.

Come back to me.

Grief, with its teeth, its hungry mouth, swallowed her. An hour, that’s all it would take to rub out the pain. A handful of pills. The bite of a kitchen knife against her wrists. A step off a bridge and the cold, hard welcome of the concrete below. What did she have to live for? A job where she didn’t matter. No family left. All gone. Everything.

She sat in the darkness of their home. If Adam were here, he would be preparing a late supper, opening the wine, cutting up cheese, listening to her day, sharing his. Music. Slow-dancing. The press of his mouth against hers.

And now all she had left was the bumping up against his absence, the understanding that all the routines of their lives together—her life—would have to be remade.