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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

She walked up one side of the road, down the other. She hadn’t really thought it through, but it was impossible to do this all day. It was on her third perambulation that she noticed something that brought a smile to her face. Across from Portia’s house, and one house down, a car sat in the driveway. Nothing exceptional about that. And most people wouldn’t have noticed the layer of dust on the car, the small weeds growing in the cobble-locked driveway immediately behind the wheels. The car hadn’t been moved in a while.

Maybe the owners of the house didn’t use the car much… or maybe they were on holiday.

Sometimes, it was worth taking a risk. If someone came out, she’d scarper and regroup. With a glance towards the house, Jo slipped inside the gate. It wasn’t perfect. There was nowhere to sit. In the shelter of the wall, it was damp, chilly and filled with insects scurrying out of her way. But it would do for a while.

Hopefully, any moment, the door would open, and Allison would come down the steps. Jo would wait for a minute, then follow her and pounce.

It was a good plan, but it didn’t work that day. The door didn’t open at all. She waited till early evening, till she was stiff and cold to the bone from standing in the damp garden.

The good news was that it looked as if she’d been correct about the house behind her. As soon as the day began to wane, a pop of light appeared in one of the downstairs windows, followed only a minute later by a second in an upstairs window. Lights on timers. Such a giveaway. Jo shook her head at such stupidity. Honestly, some people deserved to get burgled.

With a final glance at the house across the street, she headed for home. Tomorrow, she’d return. And the day after. Three days was giving her plan a good try. After that, well, she’d reconsider.

* * *

It looked like she was going to have to go for a third day when by the end of the second day the front door remained resolutely shut. Did the two women never go out? They lived in London. Didn’t they go to the theatre, out for dinner, shopping, do anything?

Frustrated, she slipped out from behind the pillar to make her way home. She’d gone a few steps when she saw the door she’d been watching open. She almost fell over her feet in her haste to return to her hiding place, slamming her knee painfully against the stone, swallowing the yelp of pain as she concentrated on the figures leaving the house.