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
Jude looked down at the sad little collection. At the center of it was a piece of laminated card with a photograph of Liam. It was a slightly blurred snapshot but she could see why it had been chosen. He was turning toward the photographer and smiling in surprise. She wondered who had been taking the picture.
“What are you doing here?”
A man was standing next to her. He was tall, bulky and concealed by the hood of his jacket and the large woolen scarf wrapped round his neck. Jude was suddenly aware of how isolated she was. People were in the park but nobody was near.
“I knew this man,” she said.
The man pulled his hood back from his head. He had curly hair and a light beard.
“Where from?” he said.
Jude wasn’t quite sure what to say. Did she really need to justify herself to this stranger?
“I knew him at school.”
The man broke into a smile. “I know who you are. You’re the one . . .” He stopped. “You’ve been to the house.”
“Yes.”
He held up his hand. He was holding a single flower.
“I come most days,” he said. He knelt down and placed it on the ground. “I’ll do it until the funeral.”
He stood up again and looked at Jude with interest.
“How did you know Liam?” she asked.
“I lived with him.”
Jude thought for a moment. “You’re Doc, is that right?”
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“I’ve heard about you.”
“Really?” he said. “What have you heard?”
She realized with a feeling of embarrassment that the one thing she remembered hearing about him was the loud sex in the house. That and burned toast.
“Just your name. That you live in the house. With Erika.”
“You’re doing the will,” he said.
“It’s complicated,” she said vaguely.
The two of them stood together and looked at the shrine.
“You see them around, don’t you?” he said. “On railings by the side of the road where a bike has been hit by a lorry. Or you see a photo of some teenager who’s been stabbed. I’ve always thought they were a bit too much. I thought they were like a performance of being upset. But not now. We’re all in shock. When I was at primary school, a girl in the next class got hit by a car and died. But apart from that, I don’t know anyone of my age who’s died.”
Jude looked round at Doc, at his solemn expression, his almost theatrical posture of grief.
“He didn’t just die,” she said. “Someone killed him.”