Chapters (31)
- Cover
- Praise
- Author Bio
- Also by Kerry Barnes
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Acknowledgements
- Keep Reading
- Coming Soon
- About the Publisher
‘You should have listened to me, but you’re so fucking stubborn, and it will be the death of you, ya stupid woman!’
Zara felt her heart beating almost outside her chest and her body was alive with fear. Still gripping the glass ashtray, she remained steadfast and watched as he swayed from side to side and stumbled out of the office and back along the hallway to the front door.
Once she heard his car start up, she let out a lungful of air and relaxed her shoulders before putting the ashtray down and hurrying to the front door. With her hand trembling, she pushed the door shut.
What the fuck was that all about? she thought.
After she’d managed to calm her erratic breathing, she went back to the office where she noticed the blood on the glass ashtray and suddenly felt sick. This should never have happened. Eric was supposed to be a part of her family; he would have been her brother-in-law.
She had to call Victor; he would know what to do. He was always there giving her advice; it was as if he’d taken over from her father. The phone! Oh my God, Eric still had her phone. Pulling open the drawers, she looked for an old phone, and there in the bottom drawer, she found a Nokia, along with the charger. Luckily, after plugging it in, it fired up and still worked. There were, however, no numbers saved.
She retrieved the ledger from her bag and leafed through the pages until she came to the number next to the word ‘Machine’. She sighed and keyed in the digits, leaving the ledger on the desk. Easing herself down on the old leather office chair, she waited as the phone rang, her eyes staring at the phone number.
Then, as the phone suddenly died, she spotted something on the page of the ledger that made her look more closely. It had been written in there and then rubbed out. She twisted the book so that the light would catch the indented words. It was hard to see. In among the pot of old biros was a pencil, now almost blunt. Gently, she used it to trace over the letters until she could see more clearly what was written. Oh shit!