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Back The Widow Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

Jo waited until the front door shut before turning for the journey home.

* * *

Her two bags of shopping were still under the bush where she’d left them. She brushed off the investigating ants and woodlice and took them home. The two frozen meals were defrosted. It didn’t matter; neither was overlarge – she’d cook both and pig out while she considered her next step.

She could simply knock on the door and ask to speak to Allison but if that failed, she’d have given her advantage away. No, a better plan was to stake out the house and wait for Allison to come out. Allison had completely underestimated her… a very bad idea.

60

Allison spent her time imagining several different scenarios for what might happen when Portia entered her house in Union Square and for what she’d do when Stuart came to her door. Violence played a large part in her imagining. She wasn’t a stranger to it, of course; it had played a formative part in her childhood. It was, she’d long come to accept, a necessary evil.

These people had no idea what she was capable of. Portia had called her gullible. She’d certainly been so when she accepted the older woman at face value, but who would have expected her to be a procurer for the awful Stuart?

Whatever happened in Union Square, her situation couldn’t be any worse.

* * *

When she heard the key in the lock, she was ready. Getting to her feet, she tensed, ready to fight. Stuart wouldn’t know what hit him.

It wasn’t him. Portia, a bundle of garments under one arm, the knife clasped in the other, stood in the doorway. ‘Here you go,’ she said, dropping the bundle on the floor. ‘Get dressed; I’ll be back in a few minutes with some food.’

The door was shut again before Allison could speak. It looked as if it had all gone to plan for Portia. Where the hell was Jo? Had she given up when Allison hadn’t returned, and left? Maybe she’d been bluffing and had never planned on returning.

So much for her grand hopes. With a sigh, she bent to pick up the clothes Portia had chosen for her. Clothes… Allison combed through the wisps of material for something substantial. It was quickly clear Portia had opened only one drawer of her dresser, the one holding underwear. All she’d brought were camisoles and French knickers, garments Allison had bought for Peter’s delectation in the early days of their relationship, spending a ridiculous amount of money on underwear that wasn’t designed to be either warm or practical.

She hooked her fingers into the lacy fabric of one after the other and rent it apart. No way was she wrapping herself up like a bloody Christmas gift for Stuart to unwrap.