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Back Under a Dark Cloud Save as PDF
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. Part 2
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. Part 3
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgements
  74. Next in Series
  75. Canelo Crime
  76. About the Author
  77. Also by Louisa Scarr

‘Shit,’ Robin mutters.

Things couldn’t be worse.

41

They drive to the Premier Inn in complete silence. Freya glances Robin’s way a few times as they go – his face is hardened, his jaw tight. She can only imagine what he’s thinking, and it can’t be good.

They park up and walk in through the main doors. In the lift, Freya can’t stay quiet any longer.

‘Are you okay?’

Robin’s head drops. He looks like a chastised schoolboy, cowed and miserable.

‘We’ll leave first thing,’ he replies. The lift tings and the doors open. ‘Be ready for nine a.m.’

He walks out ahead of her, towards their rooms, but then outside his door he pauses. Staring at the key in his hand, he says, ‘I’m sorry, Freya. This wasn’t what you needed.’

Without waiting for a response, he puts the card in his door and goes in.

She watches it close behind him, still standing in the corridor. She’s not sure what to do. This mess, it was absolutely Robin’s fault, but if it had been her, she wouldn’t have acted any differently. Something happened with Finn when he was a teenager, whether it was linked to Sharp’s murder or not.

Freya wants to say something to Robin, to make him feel better, but she doesn’t know what that is. And he’s made it clear that tonight he doesn’t want her company.

She takes the key out of her pocket and goes into her room. The two glasses of wine from the pub swill in her system and she boils the kettle, making a cup of tea. Even though it’s only just past eight o’clock, she gets changed into her pyjamas – a T-shirt and pair of shorts – and sits under the duvet, propping herself up on her pillow. She picks up the TV remote, but for a moment stops and listens. Last night she could hear Robin next door – the noise from the TV, a plug being pushed into a socket – but tonight there’s nothing.

She sighs and puts the television on, selecting a film she’s watched a hundred times before.

As she drinks her tea, she flicks through her phone, one eye on the TV. She looks at Instagram. She has a new notification: joshsmudge started following you, it says. She clicks on it and Josh’s profile loads, his face smiling out from the grid of photos. Some of him with his mates, a few sunsets. Nothing related to work, same with any copper. Follow back, the big button entices her, and she clicks it.