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
Meet me at home? she wrote and pressed send.
I’m already there.
On my way.
Thirteen
Nat was in the kitchen when she came in. He didn’t smile and Jude didn’t smile. Panic was like a bird in her chest.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” she said.
He was wearing his glasses, which always made him look older and more serious. If she touched him now, he would be like wood.
“I want to explain,” she continued.
“Is it true then?” he asked. Then, as her mobile in her pocket gave a series of beeps, “Turn off your bloody phone, for once in your life.”
He had never raised his voice to her before. He had never sworn at her. Jude fumbled with her mobile. Her hands were trembling and her fingers felt useless.
She didn’t know what he knew or what he thought. In her blind fear, she hadn’t even done a search for the article yet, as if she could hold the ghastly mess at bay by pretending it didn’t exist.
“It’s true I was in Norfolk,” she said, and watched the way his face tightened. “I should have said. I’ve been such a fool.”
“A fool?” Nat gave a harsh laugh. “Is that what you call it? You tell me you’re going to see your grandmother, you race off to some cottage in Norfolk to be with a man I’ve never heard of, you get embroiled in a murder investigation and you still carry on lying. Fool? Is that the right word?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“Probably that I was cheating on you. I get that.”
Nat stared at her. He took off his glasses and laid them on the table, then rubbed his eyes violently.
“What am I supposed to think? I thought we were happy.”
“We were—we are. I love you. I love you very much. I swear there was nothing going on.”
“You lied,” he said, laying it down flat like a trump card. “Why would you lie like that?”
“Can I try and tell you?”
She told him the same story she had told the police, and he listened without interrupting her. And again, the words sounded flimsy and unreliable. She no longer felt that she was telling the truth.