Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“A neighbour saw Charlotte come in but not leave,” Jamie said, walking in. “Another heard some shouting from this general area, then about ten minutes later, saw a brown sedan leaving the garage. Nobody else.”
I swallowed.
Rage.
It tickled under my skin.
Like an uncomfortable jumper I couldn’t get off.
Steph drew in a breath. “That’s the kind of car Shane drives,” she whispered.
“Do you know his plate by any chance?”
She shook her head. “I don’t, I’m sorry.”
I looked at Jamie. “I need a plate for a brown sedan owned by Shane Solomon. Ten minutes ago. Put out an ABP.”
Jamie’s features hardened, and he nodded, moving off to another room.
Steph’s chest heaved, and she reached out for the banister. I grabbed her arm and lowered her down to sit on one of the stairs, and she tried to smile at me, but it fell off.
I didn’t want to ask.
But I had to.
“What’s your relationship with Charlotte?” I asked her.
“Friends. You saw that at the wake. Her and Ash are really my only friends,” Steph said, somewhat sadly.
“So, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was here?”
“Well, yes. I’ve never explicitly invited her over, but to be honest, she strikes me as a ‘drop in’ kind of girl if she wants to check on you.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
“Would she have a reason to check on you?”
“Yes. I had a disagreement with Alan Sumpter yesterday in the coffee shop. She was there and we spoke after. I suppose it’s reasonable she might have stopped by.”
To check on her.
Accuse her of murder.
It was fifty-fifty for Charlotte.
“Do you think Shane could have hurt her?”
“No!” Steph stopped, staring at the wall. “Maybe,” she whispered. “He—he’s sometimes not nice.”
I clenched my jaw, but quickly released it again. “Has he ever hurt you?”
“He has a temper,” she replied, avoiding the question. “Especially if he’s been drinking.”
That wasn’t an answer, but it was enough.
“What about your husband?”
She didn’t move for a second, then slowly raised her chin, understanding dawning on her face. “You think he might have killed Declan?”
I crouched down in front of her and met her eyes. “Stephanie, I’d bet the reason Charlotte was here was to ask you if you were the one who’d killed Declan.”
Stephanie looked at me for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “That wouldn’t surprise me.”
“She came to me last night and tried to tell me she suspected you. I ignored her. I already knew everything she was trying to tell me.” I swallowed. “I think she came to ask you herself. She never was very good at leaving well alone.”
“You think she came here, and Shane intercepted her?”
“I’d prefer not to think it, but I can’t help it. Where else would she be?”
Stephanie’s throat bobbed, and she went to say something, but Jamie rushed in.
“We’ve got his car,” Jamie said, looking at me. “A two-car crash was called in seconds before they confirmed his plate. There’s another unit here to sort this. We’ve gotta go.”
The entire world stopped for a second, frozen in time.
Two-car crash.
For all we knew, Lottie was in that car, and I doubted the blood on the island belonged to Shane.
If she was hurt—or worse—I would never, ever forgive myself.
“Let’s fucking go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LOTTIE
There was something in my mouth. Thick, cottony, and the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever had between my lips, and I’d given blow jobs.
I couldn’t move, either. My wrists were tied together, and I was rolled in the foetal position. My ankles were free, and I could move them, but my right one throbbed like an absolute bitch.
It didn’t have a patch on my head, though.
Mother of God, I’d never had such a terrible headache in my life.
Wait.
Was I moving?
I blinked and forced my eyes open. It was pitch-black in here, wherever here was, but I was moving. Gently. Slowly. I was being rocked, almost.
I was in a car.
The boot of a car, to be precise.
And it wasn’t mine, because my car didn’t smell like cannabis and tuna.
I’d rather my nose was gagged over my mouth, to be honest. Then I wouldn’t have to experience this putrid scent.
I had no idea where I was. How long had I been out? I had passed out, hadn’t I?
I had to have done. The last thing I remembered was trying to limp away from Shane then being pulled back, and I was pretty sure there was pain before… this.
Waking up in the boot of a moving car.
Great.
I bet he hadn’t thrown my bag in here with me, had he?
Panic bubbled in my throat. I was never getting out of this. Nobody knew where I was. The only hope I had was that Steph went home and called the police after seeing my car.
Oh, fuckballs.
Would she even know it was my car?
She’d never seen my car.
My bag.
My bag was literally the only hope I had. I doubted Shane would have stopped to pick it up, so I hoped it’d fallen somewhere that she’d see it easily.