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
‘Eight survivors,’ Ade said. ‘Five of them were at the villa yesterday. With them were Adam Murray, Simon and Bella Gilbert, Jake Harris and his girlfriend.’
‘I still don’t understand what Jake Harris was doing there,’ Rachel said.
‘I got the impression Adam was the only one who wanted him there,’ Ade said. ‘Didn’t Jake tell us he does some work for the foundation, as well as being Adam’s agent? Maybe that’s how Adam justified inviting him along. You ask me, though, the guy’s a dick. You know, one of those who tells a woman he fancies that they remind him of someone famous? Adam wasn’t too bad. Less obnoxious than I expected. But I still don’t buy that crap about his marriage to Vivienne being perfect. He saw an opportunity to cash in on the tragedy and went for it.’
‘Is there anyone you’re not cynical about?’ Rachel asked.
‘It’s not being cynical,’ Ade said. ‘It’s being honest. There’s a difference.’
Not for the first time, Rachel congratulated herself on taking a gamble when newly qualified Detective Constable Adesanya Benjamin had contacted her about transferring to Serious Crime for a six-month secondment. Ade’s email had coincided with Rachel’s long-term partner going on sabbatical, and she’d decided to take a punt on Ade. So far, the new partnership was working out pretty well.
‘What about Ivan Babić?’ Rachel said. ‘Are we being cynical about him too?’
‘I sort of liked him, actually. He certainly has the measure of all the others. At the same time, I thought there was something slightly off-kilter about him. I can’t describe it, but I felt it. You ever get that, Rach?’
‘Gut instinct,’ Rachel said. ‘Your predecessor was a big believer in it.’
‘Sounds like a sensible guy.’
‘He is.’
They were near the South Street Fish Bar now, the smell of chips and vinegar making Rachel’s mouth water and her stomach rumble. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.
‘My treat,’ she said, pushing open the door and inhaling a mouthful of deep-fried aromas. ‘Cod and chips okay for you?’
‘And a Diet Coke,’ Ade said, as if Rachel needed reminding. She had never known anyone to drink as much Diet Coke as Ade.
Once they’d got their food, they sat on the bench across the road from the chippy to eat it.
‘Do you remember the day of the crash?’ Rachel asked.
‘Course I remember,’ Ade said. ‘You don’t forget something that big.’