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 was drenched. The events of the night were like the jumbled pieces of a dream, with their own internal logic. Episodes stood out with a lurid brightness in Jude’s mind, like spotlighted vignettes in a murk. Tara and Danny snarling at each other, fighting over Alfie and over the love of a man who was dead. Erika’s confession, if confession was the right word for something she obviously didn’t regret. Doc’s baleful stare and his hand on her breast. Dermot upending the laden table, a look of misery and triumph on his face. Irina wild and vengeful by the bonfire. Danny regally calm, stalking the party like a tragic ghost. Vin standing on the table conducting the dancers. Vin leading her to the roof. Vin leading her to his room. Vin saying she was part of the family now.
Jude pressed her hand over her eyes, wanting to stop the whirl of thoughts. When she at last opened them, she was met by a strange spectacle. Across the stretch of muddy grass, she could see Liam’s mourners walking together toward the burial site. They were too far away to make out their expressions, but she could see that they were holding hands and were proceeding through the pouring rain in a linked chain, Irina’s dress trailing through the churned mud. Vin was at the back, Alfie in a carrier on his shoulders, and Danny at the front; both held an enormous umbrella. From where she stood, Jude could hear they were singing.
They fought each other, betrayed each other, slept with each other and abandoned each other; sometimes they hated each other and it was even possible that one of them was a murderer—and yet now they walked hand in hand to a burial, chanting mournfully together.
She watched until the line of figures disappeared over the brow of the hill. The rain was easing, and as she left her shelter, the gray sky broke open and a streak of pale turquoise appeared.
Soon the mortal remains of Liam Birch would be underground. Jude, who had thought she would go straight back to the flat to shower and sleep, found herself making a detour to the place where he had been killed. It was only a ten-minute walk, past the reservoirs and along the path toward the wilder area. There, just off the path, were the still-flattened brambles and the remnants of the shrine that Jude had seen when she had first come here. The flowers were all dead now, except for one bunch of orange dahlias that looked almost fresh. She wondered who had left them, and half-wished she had brought something herself.