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
“He’s having a thing with Danny. Though the morning after the funeral, she didn’t seem to mind at all when she saw that Vin and I . . .” She stopped. Her head was throbbing violently.
“What do you mean, he’s with Danny? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Vin and Danny are involved. Maybe they have been all long. Maybe Liam knew and didn’t mind, just as Danny didn’t mind about me and Vin. I think she found it funny.”
“That’s a fucking lie. A fucking, fucking lie.”
Dermot was about to say something else when Jude heard a rattling sound from the end of the room. It was her phone, vibrating on the table. She hobbled across and picked it up and looked at it. Leila Fox.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to take this.”
She moved away slightly and turned her back on him.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” said the detective.
“It was on silent.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you that we’ve had a breakthrough. Things are moving very quickly now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll hear later. I just want to tell you something. It’s . . . by the way, where are you?”
“In the flat.”
“Good. I thought I should give you a quick warning. It’s probably not necessary.”
“What about?”
“I just wanted to warn you that you shouldn’t get in touch with Dermot Birch. Or take a call from him. Have you got that?”
Jude froze. She could feel Dermot behind her. She shut her eyes for a moment and it was like being drunk. The ground tipped beneath her.
She didn’t know how loud her phone was. Was Leila’s voice audible? She made herself turn toward Dermot, who was staring down at the floor. He looked up, as if he could feel her gaze on him. She forced a smile that wouldn’t stay in place, then held up a finger, signaling—she hoped—that this was all very unimportant and casual and would only take a moment.
“That may be a problem,” she said.
“What?”
Behind her, Jude heard a raspy high-pitched sound. She felt she ought to know it but she couldn’t make it out.
“The kettle,” said Dermot. “I’ll get it.”
He stood up and went into the kitchen area. Jude was suddenly nauseous. She couldn’t concentrate. She could feel her hand trembling and she gripped her right wrist with her left hand to hold it steady and close to her ear.
“I think it might be a bit late for that,” she said into the phone, her voice too high.
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
Dermot returned to his chair. He was looking at her with a fixed, glassy stare.
“I think it’s a bit hard to put into words. Just now. Over the phone.”
There was a pause.