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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
  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

By her reckoning, Trefor Lovell had been in custody for eleven hours. The police had another thirteen hours to charge him or let him go. But if they’d found enough evidence to hold him for murder, it could be another three days before he was released. Or remanded into custody. Without bail. Which was no good to her. She needed to talk to him now.

But it was past two, and killer or not, he had a legal right to sleep, and she was banned from the investigation anyway. It was game over. Or was it? She just had to find a way in.

Wildeve sat on the edge of her bed, revived by Mac’s offering of food and the warmth of his company, her mind too noisy for sleep.

Adam.

She needed to see him.

His old photograph album was in the drawer under his side of the bed, and she pulled it out, careless and frantic, tossing bits of paper and receipts and his leather belt aside, desperate to see him, consumed by the fear that one day she might forget the shape of the mole by his ear or the arch of his eyebrow.

She had a pain in her temple, running down the side of her face and along her jawline. She flipped the pages. There he was. Laughing with his mates at a beer festival; a young man, in his police uniform, upright and proud; on a ferry to Skye with his parents, gap-toothed, freckles spreading across his nose; a picture of him on his first day at primary school.

She stared at the pictures of her husband, drinking each one in. Her eyes—sore and gritty—told her it was time to sleep.

She was about to put the album away when she noticed a cardboard photo frame slipped into the back. Embossed on the bottom in gold lettering were the words Croft Lane County Primary School, Class of 1985, but the photograph was missing.

Adam’s primary school.

Something shifted in her brain. Where was the photograph? It couldn’t have slipped from the frame by itself. Someone—Adam—had removed it. But why?

Round and round. All the dead ends and loose ends. None of it made any sense. And yet, she sensed she was within touching distance. The corners of her puzzle were in place. Now she needed to find the rest of the pieces. She lay on her bed, the minutes ticking on.

And then her phone began to ring.

77

77

Wednesday 1st August 2018, 2:35 A.M.

26 The Avenue

He was asleep.

Fletcher had talked and cried until there was nothing left. “I was as much a victim as those women were,” he’d said, his face breaking open as he’d relived his ordeal. “It was horrific.”