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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
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  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
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  60. 55
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  62. 57
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  77. 72
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  106. 101
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  108. 103
  109. 104
  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

He pocketed his keys and reached for her hand. “I do. It’s just difficult with work at the moment. But I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Fletcher had a high, tight pain in his chest as he left the house and headed toward the train station. The police officers were climbing into separate cars and he looked away, keen not to make eye contact. If he’d been honest from the beginning, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

He wouldn’t be living a lie. He wouldn’t be full of regrets. He wouldn’t be worrying about paperwork and visa applications, pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

But there was no way he could come clean now.

He flicked his gaze toward number twenty-five. The windows were open and he could hear the urgent call of a smoke alarm. He started toward the house, but as he reached the gate leading up their path, he faltered and turned away.

No, stupid to get involved.

This was his new beginning. He mustn’t fuck it up.

48

48

Tuesday 31st July 2018, 10:56 A.M.

Major Incident Room, Rayleigh police station

The whole investigating team had been recalled to the incident room for the eleven a.m. briefing.

A metallic taste filled Wildeve’s mouth. Her anger had gone. Now she was wrung out and empty. Her legs felt weak and she gripped the back of a chair to anchor herself.

Voices rose in the airless space. A babble of gossip and rumor. She tried not to look at the bank of photographs on the wall, but she was drawn to Adam’s.

His pale face. Bloodied eye sockets and those glass impostors.

A tunnel opened up in front of her. Dark. Empty. She blinked several times and felt an arm steady her, realized, too late, she had been swaying. She flashed a grateful smile at the female sergeant. Her tongue was thick and dry in her mouth.

French was beside himself, jigging his foot, arms flying about as he talked to Detective Chief Inspector Roger Sampson. Not only had French’s nemesis Clive Mackie been pulled from the case, but the replacement was his own chief inspector, drafted across from the Brentwood murder squad.

Parking had been a nightmare and it seemed French had arrived before her, dripping poison in Sampson’s ear.

Because of the media outcry and the scale of the inquiry, the investigating team had been drawn from four different homicide forces, pooling expertise and manpower, but the divisions between them were clear to see. French had commandeered a chair near the front, leaning back to chat with colleagues behind him. DC Jim Sheridan was sitting on the other side of the room next to Adam’s best friend, PC Simon Quick. They had saved her a seat and she slipped in beside them.