Page 2 of The Jealous Girl

I reached forwards and gripped the unfamiliar steering wheel, clinging to it as though it could ground me. I’d start small. Careful. Controlled. I didn’t need to rush. It would be easier if Charlotte didn’t see anything coming.

Or, at least, if she didn’t know where it was coming from.

My gaze returned to the property at the bottom of the hill. From my vantage point, I could see the whole of Blackwater Stables – the house, the stables themselves, the paddocks and the fields stretching out beyond. Beautiful. Vast.

Almost perfect.

Over a hundred acres. Stabling for forty-two horses. Full and partial livery services. Trekking rides during tourist season. A small breeding operation. All run by the family with the support of half-a-dozen staff.

Including Charlotte.

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. It had occurred to me that, in order to destroy Charlotte’s life, I first needed to know more about it. While she’d managed to sabotage mine for a second time, I didn’t know that much about hers.

At least not yet.

I’d briefly toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator. While it had stirred an unaccustomed feeling of excitement to contemplate something that I’d only ever seen in the movies, I’d reminded myself that this wasn’t some glamorous Hollywood blockbuster, this was reality.

Hiring an investigator represented too many problems. For a start, I wouldn’t know how to go about hiring one. Sure, I could figure it out with a little help from Google, but how would I know if they were any good? Most concerning, though, was that it would have meant someone else knowing of my plans. Not all of them obviously, but when suspicions are aroused and questions start getting asked, I’d prefer having no one around to point accusing fingers at me.

Movement in the upstairs window to the right caught my attention.

I knew that room.

I grabbed the binoculars from the passenger seat and peered through them.

They were awake.

I shuddered at the thought of that word: ‘they’. My fingers wrapped around the binoculars tightly, attempting to squeeze the life from something that had never held any.

There should be no ‘they’. Only one thought enabled me to release my grip and unclench my jaw. When this was over, there wouldn’t be any more.

I checked my watch, and tried to imagine Charlotte’s morning routine: shower, dress, breakfast, kiss him goodbye…

My heart rate quickened at that thought. It was a bad game to play. I needed to stay calm and alert if I was going to succeed. Thoughts of her with her arms wrapped around him, her lips covering his, would only cloud my already dubious judgement.

What the hell was I doing here?

The front door started to open and I pushed that thought away. There wasn’t time to question it now.

I was already here.

Ryan stepped out of the house and I sat up straighter, edging closer to the windscreen. He marched across the yard towards the stables, dressed in faded jeans and work boots.

It had only been a few days, but the sight of him made my heart lurch.

I missed him. Even after everything that had happened.

He didn’t even glance up, just pulled open the door and disappeared inside.

Once, his gaze had sought me out instinctively. Now, I was actively trying to avoid his attention, even if he did happen to look in my direction. Not that he would see me up here, pulled into the grassy verge partway up the hill above.

The door opened again. My chest tightened before I even saw her. Then, there she was. Charlotte.

A wave of nausea surged up, catching in my throat. My grip slipped on the binoculars as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes, drawing in slow, steady breaths until the dizziness passed.

This was a mistake.

It wasn’t me. Watching. Waiting. Plotting.