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
“If you’ve anything important to say, I’d rather you tell me first.”
“I don’t have anything important to say. I wish I did.”
“Also, if you think telling your troubles will be therapeutic, tell them to a therapist not to a journalist. I can promise you, even if they print exactly what you say, once it’s there in black and white it won’t read the way you think.”
“I’ve told my troubles to you instead.”
“Any more of them?”
Jude felt a cold shiver running through her.
“You know, when you tell friends about some bad situation you’re in, they normally comfort you by saying, at least nobody died.” Jude made a vague gesture with her hands. For the moment she didn’t trust herself to speak. She thought she might start crying. She waited for Leila Fox to say something but she didn’t. So Jude felt she had to add something. “I’m sorry but I don’t know what I’m doing here. I keep saying I don’t know anything apart from what I’ve told you.”
“Which keeps turning out to be not quite true.”
“Okay. But now it is.”
There was a silence. Jude looked down at the floor but she could feel the detective’s eyes on her. When Leila Fox finally spoke, it was as if she was thinking aloud.
“It’s all about you,” she said slowly.
“Sorry, I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s a bit complicated. We’re really talking about two crimes and you’re involved with both of them. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d have been investigating the killing of Liam Birch as a simple mugging gone wrong. That was our first impression, until we talked to you on the phone. If it wasn’t for you, the press would be talking about it as another example of London’s problem with knife crime. I think that’s what the killer wanted us to think.”
“How did it happen?”
“I told you it was on Walthamstow Marshes, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“He was stabbed.” She paused. “Several times. The body was found in some bushes just north of an area that’s used for horse riding. It had been dragged off the path and there’d been a half-hearted effort to hide it. But someone was out walking their dog and found it not long after it happened.”
“Why would he have gone there?”
“It’s only a short walk from where he lived.”
“You said there were two crimes. What was the second?”
“The second one isn’t exactly a crime. It’s more like a might-have-been crime.”
“What’s a might-have-been crime?”
“If someone gets an old friend to go out of town with their phone and their wallet and their credit card . . .” She paused and seemed to remember something. “By the way, did you use his credit card?”