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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  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. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

Oh God, no. Pulling up alongside the car, my heart misses a beat as I realise the passenger side is damaged, the wing badly dented. He’s had an accident. Hit something. Praying that no one has been injured, above all, that Jason hasn’t, I curse my bloody father, who I suspect cares about no one. Why did I insist on Jason borrowing money from him, when my father thinks so little of him? I must have been completely insane.

I climb out of my car and tentatively try Jason’s car doors. They’re open. A cold chill of trepidation runs through me. Jason would never not lock his doors. His tie is thrown on the passenger seat, as if torn angrily off. The interior is filled with the pungent smell of cigar smoke. But Jason doesn’t smoke. He stopped years ago. Or at least I thought he did. It’s not that that bothers me most, though. It’s the unmistakable smell of whisky, which tells me my husband has been drinking and driving. This is not Jason.

Not the Jason you know. Sarah, worming her way into my head, reminds me of the one thing I’m overwhelmingly good at: letting down those I love when they most need me.

Quieting her, I turn away from the glove compartment. I don’t want to search Jason’s car. I don’t need to. I need to find him. I slam the door shut and head towards the office, giving the security guard a wave as I go. He’s emerging from the side of the building to do his rounds.

‘Looks like someone had some pressing business,’ he shouts, nodding towards Jason’s car.

‘Is he inside?’ I shout back.

‘His lights are on,’ he says.

Thank God. Relieved, I give him another wave and quickly punch the code into the security door.

There are no lights on in the main office, but I see a glimmer of light emerging from under Jason’s door. Attempting to still the nerves twisting inside me, I push on, and then pause with my hand poised on the door handle. There’s no noise from inside. I press my ear to the door. No sound at all. ‘Jason?’ I call.

He doesn’t answer.

‘Jason?’ Goosebumps prickle my skin and I pray again that he’s all right. That he hasn’t been injured or done anything awful. I have no reason to imagine he would, but there’s this hard knot of fear in my chest that just won’t go away.