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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

‘There you go,’ Jo said, tying the belt in a bow at her side. She pushed a pair of mules towards Allison with her foot. ‘Best I could do. Portia has small feet.’

They were probably a size too small, and Allison’s heels jutted out over the end. ‘They’ll do.’

Jo handed her the bag she’d been holding. ‘I found this on the dressing table. It’s yours.’

Allison opened it and looked inside. Everything as she’d left it. Her phone, though, was flat. ‘Can you ring for a taxi?’

‘Sure, if you can pay for it. I’m all out of dosh.’

‘That’s fine, just get a taxi so we can get out of here.’

Allison left her to make the call and started her slow descent, a hand on the banister to steady her as she went, feeling the painful grate of her broken ribs, each aching bruise. She heard Jo’s voice ordering the taxi. Soon Allison would be out of this hell… the thought made it easier to move faster.

Jo slipped by her, stopping a few steps further on to turn and look back. ‘You look like death; do you want to hold on to me?’

‘No, that’s okay, I can cling to the banister.’ It was slow going. When Allison reached the first-floor landing, a wave of nausea hit her, followed by a dizzy spell that almost brought her down. ‘I just need a minute,’ she said when she felt Jo hovering nearby. In fact, it was several minutes before she could take another step. At the top of the second staircase, she looked downward. The steps swayed alarmingly. She wasn’t going to make it.

‘Put an arm around my shoulder.’ Jo stood beside her. ‘One hand on the banister, one around me. Together we’ll make it.’

Together. It wasn’t a word Allison used. She lifted an arm and draped it around the shoulder of the shorter, stockier woman, her free hand gripping the banister. It made it easier, but the going was slow, the steps continuing to dip and dive under Allison’s feet. She heard Jo grunt as she leaned more heavily on her.

They were only halfway down when the front door opened.

Allison looked down and made an instant decision. She’d rather throw herself down the rest of the stairs and hope for a quick death than return to the prison upstairs.

65

When Jo saw the door open, she was tempted to shuck off the arm that lay heavily on her shoulder and run like hell. She wasn’t going to end up battered and bruised like Allison, who’d let out a whimper of absolute terror when the door opened. Why hadn’t Jo grabbed a knife from the kitchen? Idiot.

It was only seconds before a figure appeared. One neither woman recognised.