BooksBarbecue
Back The Lucky Eight Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Five Years Later
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Forty-three
  48. Forty-four
  49. Forty-five
  50. Forty-six
  51. Forty-seven
  52. Forty-eight
  53. Forty-nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-one
  56. Fifty-two
  57. Fifty-three
  58. Fifty-four
  59. Fifty-five
  60. Epilogue
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Canelo Crime
  63. About the Author
  64. Also by Sheila Bugler

‘You sure about that?’ Rachel said.

‘Positive.’ Sam beamed. ‘He wasn’t a hundred per cent sure so he went back and checked through the pub’s CCTV from that day. He’s going to email it through, and we’ll need to arrange for someone to go and pick up the tape itself.’

Sam waved his phone in front of Rachel’s face.

‘The email’s already come through. You want to take a look?’

He pressed a few buttons on his phone, before handing it to Rachel. As she looked at the screen, Ade and Sam crowded close. Normally, she would have told them to give her some space but she was too excited to do anything except watch the black and white video playing on Sam’s phone.

The camera was placed behind the bar, giving a clear shot of anyone walking in or out of the pub. The time was displayed in small digits on the bottom right-hand side of the screen. At 12:45 p.m. exactly, the pub door opened and a man came into the bar. His features were blurred at first, but as he moved closer to the bar they came into clear focus. And Sam was right, there was no doubt about it. The man ordering a glass of wine from the barman, at the same time as he’d claimed he was browsing the bookshops on Charing Cross Road, was Adam Murray.

‘He told us he went from St James’s Park to Charing Cross Road,’ Rachel said. ‘And straight to his meeting after that. The bastard lied to us.’

It took all of Rachel’s self-control not to grab Sam Latimer’s pretty face and give it a kiss. Instead she grinned at him and Ade.

‘Which one of you fancies a trip to Bramhurst then? I’d say it’s time we took Murray in for questioning.’

Forty-seven

Adam killed Nick. And Tara, although Clodagh didn’t know why she’d had to die as well. The father of the child she was carrying was a monster. She went back over all the years she’d known him, searching for clues, but there was nothing. How could you know someone as long as she’d known Adam without realising who he really was? A sociopath. A psychopath. A killer.

She’d thought he was going to kill her too. But he’d dragged her in here instead, to the tiny storeroom beside the spare bedroom and locked her in. After he’d gone, she begged him to let her out, banging on the door until her hands bruised; screaming until her throat was raw. But he hadn’t let her out and now she didn’t want him to come back. Because when he did, he would kill her too.