Chapters (64)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Five Years Later
- 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
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Sheila Bugler
‘It’s none of your business where I go during the day.’
Adam threw his hands in the air.
‘You know what, Clodagh? I don’t have time for this shit now. That was Jake on the phone. The TV company is worried about how this business with the murders is going to affect the show’s ratings. If the police don’t find the killer soon, this is going to seriously damage me. I could really do with a bit of support at the moment, but I guess that’s too much to expect.’
‘I’ve always supported your career,’ she said.
‘Oh sure. Like the other week when Jake wanted you to come on TV with me? You think that’s showing support? Well let me tell you, Clodagh. Your idea of what support looks like and mine are two very different things.’
He started to walk back into the house and she put her hand out to stop him.
‘We’re not finished talking, Adam.’
‘Oh I think we are.’
He pushed her away from him, so hard she staggered back, hitting her hip against the table.
She thought he’d apologise. Instead, he kept walking, as if he hadn’t even noticed that he’d hurt her. As she stood in the garden, shaking from head to toe, she heard his phone ringing again.
‘Boris,’ Adam said, his voice jovial and loud. ‘How the hell are you?’
She watched him as he moved around the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine and laughing at something Boris said. He must have sensed she was watching him, because he glanced out at her, raised his glass and smiled. Acting for all the world as if everything was fine between them.
Forty
Day Eleven
Wednesday morning, eight thirty. Rachel stood at the front of the Major Incident Room for the morning briefing. This was a chance for everyone involved in the investigation to gather and update the team on their progress, before Rachel allocated tasks for the day ahead.
‘Ivan Babić’s alibi stands for the time of Tara Coleman’s murder,’ she said, skimming the notes on her laptop. ‘So we can rule him out as a suspect for now.’
A young female officer whose name Rachel could never remember, and was too embarrassed now to ask for again, put her hand up.
‘Is he still a suspect for the other murder?’
‘He is,’ Rachel said, ‘although I’m still thinking we’re most likely looking for one killer, not two.’
‘Is it possible someone’s killing off the survivors, one by one?’ someone piped up from the back of the room.
‘The purpose of this meeting isn’t to sit around speculating,’ Rachel said. ‘We deal with the facts. And right now, the facts we know are this: