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
“Is he there, Jude?”
“Yes, I think that’s right,” said Jude, trying to talk as if she were reacting casually to something unimportant. But she could feel her voice trembling. It must be so obvious.
“Has he said anything?”
“No, no. It’s all fine,” said Jude breezily. “So is that all?”
Another pause. Jude didn’t know how long she could keep this going.
“Right,” said Leila. “If he’s got a weapon, just . . . er . . . say, ‘I think so.’”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“I’m ordering a car. It’ll be there in five minutes. Just be calm. Keep talking, it’ll be fine. We should probably stop the call but when you say goodbye, don’t ring off.”
“Okay,” said Jude. “That’s fine. See you, then.”
She put the phone down on a shelf.
She turned toward Dermot. It was him. It was him all along. Why? How? But none of that mattered. It felt like they were underwater or in one of those dreams where everything happens very very slowly, great spaces opening up between the seconds.
“Everything all right?”
“Fine,” she said.
Five minutes, Leila had said. That was a short time, wasn’t it? Almost nothing. But it might be longer. They might get stuck in traffic. And five minutes was actually quite a long time. Jude did the math. Sixty times five. Three hundred seconds. One, two, three, four. It was a long time. She looked at Dermot looking at her. Be calm, Leila had said. She needed just to be calm. She needed to continue the way they had been talking before the phone had rung. Just normal conversation until the police arrived. But suddenly she couldn’t think of anything to say. Not a word. Her mouth felt dry. She pictured herself running for the door but he was closer than she was and she had her bad ankle and was in slippers. She didn’t know how quickly she could move.
What about pretending she needed to fetch something from outside? Like milk. But that sounded mad and meanwhile they weren’t speaking.
She remembered the kettle whistling. A hot drink. That could use up some seconds.
“What did you want, coffee or tea?” she asked.
“I’m all right,” he said.
His voice was dry as straw. He licked his lips, then stared at her. They were both terrified, realized Jude. Anything could happen. The air felt electric, like when a storm is due.
“I’ll make some tea for myself,” she said.
She turned and limped into the kitchen and again she was conscious of him behind her. She moved the kettle back onto the stove and the hideous whistling started again.