Chapters (78)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Remarkable Praise for Nicci French
- Also by Nicci French
- About the Publisher
She looked out of the window. It was just after nine but it still didn’t feel properly light. She put on a sweater and a jacket, a hat, gloves and a scarf, and got on her bike. She cycled down through Stamford Hill and Clapton and on to the Lea Bridge Road. She passed the ice rink and then locked her bike outside the riding center. She walked along the path that led along the left side of the center. It was called a park, but it quickly became more like scrubby heathland, an oasis wilderness surrounded by new residential tower blocks on the west side and an industrial estate to the east. There was the hum of traffic and, every few minutes, the rattle of a train. But even now, on a weekday morning, Jude could see that it was a place where a person could be killed without anyone noticing and a body could be stowed away out of sight.
As she moved further from the road and the landscape became wilder, with unkempt bushes along the right side of the path, Jude could also see why the body was found so quickly. There were the usual runners but mainly across the heathland. To her left, she saw people with dogs, dogs off the lead, sniffing, curious.
She was just deciding that this was enough when she noticed it. Ahead, just off the path, there was a little assembly of color. As she got closer, she could see that it was an arrangement of bunches of flowers and messages and photographs. It was an impromptu shrine to Liam.
She stood quite still, feeling the wind cold on her face and a hint of rain to come. Her chest felt tight and her throat raw with the tears she hadn’t shed. This was the last sight that Liam had seen. Those brambles were where his body had been dragged and partially concealed. Here, where she was standing, must have been the actual spot where he drew his final breath. Had he known he was bleeding out? Had he been scared to die? She had never seen him scared. Even that night of the crash, he had only seemed ruefully amused, as if he was shrugging his shoulders at the vagaries of life.
It was the perfect place for a murder. Closer to the road, there were lights, there were more people around. But right here, there was a pretty good chance that nobody would notice.
She stared back in the direction she’d come from. Yes. If you stood where she was standing now, you could have seen Liam coming but you would be in the dark, hidden.