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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

Whether it was the remnant of the drugs floating around her body or the depth of her despair pushing her mind into survival mode, she drifted into an uneasy sleep filled with rabid monsters. She ran from them but fast as she ran, they caught her. When she finally managed to lock herself into a room, she heard the savage knocking from the other side. She wasn’t safe. They’d get through. This was her life. Forever. There was no point in resisting. She unlocked the door and opened it. To her surprise, the monster wasn’t there. Even more oddly, the knocking continued.

More violently. More persistent.

Perhaps there were other monsters out there she couldn’t see.

63

Jo kept hammering on the door as if persistence would achieve results. With a final slam of the knocker, she stepped back and glared at the house as if it alone was to blame for her failure.

The curtains on the ground-level windows were open but, from where she stood, there was nothing to see. With a glance around to see if the coast was clear, she went down a wrought-iron spiral staircase to the lower garden level of the house. Here, the one window was barred on the outside and shuttered on the inside. Bloody useless.

Returning to the front door, she knocked again. Less enthusiastically, already giving up. Even the letter box was against her. Pushing it open, hoping to view the hallway, maybe even to see a cowering Allison, she was unable to see anything. She pushed her fingers through a brush. A draught excluder. Spy defeater. She took her hand away.

Giving up wasn’t something Jo did easily. Not until she’d tried every option. If Allison wasn’t going to open the damn door, perhaps there was another way to get her attention. Break in. Was it possible?

She wouldn’t know without trying. Old houses, such as this one, frequently had weak points. No harm in searching for one. The bars on the garden-room window ruled that out. It was time to see what options the back of the house offered.