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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
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  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
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  36. 31
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  39. 34
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  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Wildeve was aware of Sampson pulling himself up a little straighter. Her own breath caught at the back of her throat. Lovell picked at a spot of dried paint on his trousers and carried on talking.

“They’ve got a key, see? Let themselves in as often as they like. Muddling around. Taking things that don’t belong to them. My paints. The eyes. That’s why I set the trap.”

“Who owns the shop?”

The question fell from her lips, a stone disturbing the stillness of the room. She imagined it rippling across the surface, setting off a chain of events that would allow those five lost souls to find their way home. Four words that might hold the key to this investigation.

To her husband’s murder.

“The old couple at number twenty-seven. Cooper and Audrina Clifton.”

92

92

Wednesday 1st August 2018, 4:05 A.M.

25/27 The Avenue

Evan was thinking about Lucas Naylor. An in-and-out friend. He called him that because sometimes he was fun to be around and sometimes he was cruel. Mostly cruel.

But he’d do anything to have Lucas Naylor by his side right now.

Cooper Clifton was burying the spade in the soil and each strike of the earth caused Evan to flinch. Although the heat had broken, most of the rain had run off the land and the mud was solid, difficult to split apart.

The edge of the blade hit the crate and the wood splintered. Cooper swore softly under his breath, and Evan watched with wide-open eyes. The old man slid his spade down the side of the crate, into the dirt, and leaned on the handle, using his weight to lever it free.

The box loosened and lifted from its grave.

Cooper smiled at Evan.

“Give me a hand, will you?”

Evan was used to obeying the command of an adult. Although some children might have refused, he was young for his age and not yet confident enough to challenge Mr. Clifton’s authority. But he was stubborn, too, with a keen sense of justice. As far as he was concerned, the box was his. He leaned forward and picked up two corners of the crate, with Mr. Clifton on the other side.

“I’ll come back for my spade,” he said.

Evan wanted to explain to Mr. Clifton that the box belonged to him because his mother had found it, and he wanted to see if there was treasure inside. Everyone knew it was finders keepers. But the old man was edging toward the gate and his own house, a determined look on his face, and Evan had no choice but to follow him.

Despite the rain, the air was still warm and Evan could smell the waking-up of the day, the freshness of the grass, the slow opening of the flowers. The sky was beginning to lighten. He rubbed his eyes and wondered how his mother was faring.

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