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
Vin came down the hall. He was holding his toast and marmalade in one hand, but with the other he laid a hand on Jude’s shoulder as if he owned her. She slapped it angrily away.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
Leila Fox inclined her head.
“I see,” she said.
“You don’t,” said Jude.
“You probably do,” said Vin, and laughed.
“Hold on one moment,” the detective said to him. “There is something I need to ask everyone in the house. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She took Jude’s elbow and steered her out of the house, onto the road.
“Are you completely insane?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stop it! Right now!” Then the anger went out of her face and she gave a small sigh. “Is this because of what I told you—though I didn’t actually tell you—about your fiancé?”
Jude met the detective’s gray eyes.
“Maybe,” she said in a small voice. “A bit.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Jude. “I needed to know. The worst thing is not knowing. As for the rest, for last night . . .” She tried to smile, but her face felt tight. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. I’m never going back to that house. I know it’s a bad, bad place.”
Fifty
Jude ran, her shoes hurting her feet and her bag bumping against her hip and her breath coming in gasps. When she reached the end of the road, she stopped by a huge plane tree and leaned against its mottled trunk.
“Stupid,” she said. “Stupid idiot.”
She needed to have a long hot shower. She needed to clean her teeth until her gums bled. She needed mug after mug of black coffee.
She thought of the grim basement flat and the hissing cat with its unfriendly green eyes.
“Shit,” she said.
Tears were seeping from her sore, tired eyes. She started to walk again, under the little bridge and out onto the marshes. It was raining steadily; the buildings behind her were blurred and indistinct, the grass was turning to churned mud, and the skies were low and dark. One of those days that will never get quite light, she thought, and then she tried to remember what day it actually was. Wednesday, she decided: the grimy center of a wretched week.
She wandered slowly along a rough path, then wound back on herself. Not really knowing where she was heading. Her eyes were stinging, her head aching. She felt unsteady on her feet. The rain fell harder. She stopped under a tree to protect herself; the rain hammered on its glossy evergreen leaves.