The Serial Killer's Wife by Alice Hunter (best romantic novels to read .txt) 📗

I leave, and I can’t ignore the repeating thought in my mind: Lucy doesn’t believe Tom is innocent.

I have a feeling she’s not alone.

Chapter 14

BETH

Now

While I walk, I finally look at my phone. It was Maxwell who’d called – several times by the look of it. Texts, too, asking me to contact him. There’s also a missed call from a withheld number. Could that be from Tom? I don’t know that he’s able to make calls, or what I’d want to say to him if he could. That’s if I even want to talk to him – whatever is going on, the police must have something on him to have made the arrest in the first place. If I do speak to him, no doubt my words will be those of anger, upset, hurt – not support. But then, if I don’t do it now, I have no clue when I’ll get the opportunity.

Although I’m tempted to walk to nursery with my head bowed, I don’t. I force myself to keep looking up, glancing around me as I walk briskly. The short journey will take me past home and I wonder if I should pop in first to return Maxwell’s call, in private. No. I’ll continue on; keep reality at bay for just a little longer – I’ll have to listen to what he has to say soon enough. The strong breeze whips up fallen leaves, and cool air pushes into my face. Long, auburn strands of hair blow across my eyes and as I brush them away, I see what’s up ahead.

I stop short.

In the lane outside my cottage, I see numerous vehicles all haphazardly parked, doors flung open, as if abandoned in haste.

Police cars.

My body shakes as I stand frozen to the spot, gawping at the scene. I force my weak legs to move towards them.

What the hell’s going on?

A car comes screeching up behind me. I turn sharply, almost hoping it might plough into me, but it comes to an abrupt halt. I chastise myself for even allowing that kind of thinking. Poppy needs me.

Maxwell bursts from the driver’s door, his face beetroot red. ‘I’ve been calling non-stop.’ His voice is stern. At first, I’m affronted that he’s telling me off and I want to tell him that I have had a lot of things to deal with today and was just about to phone him, but the situation is clearly grave and I refrain. He slams the door, swoops past me and heads to the uniformed police officers at the entrance to my home. A few words are exchanged, then I see a smartly dressed, stiff-postured woman with strawberry-blonde hair approach him. She shows him a piece of paper, which he rips from her hand, studies for a few seconds, then gives back to her.

He heads towards me. I’ve barely moved. My pulse thuds as he informs me they have a search warrant to seize and retain anything in the property which could relate to the murder charge. I’m numb as I hand over my key.

What are they expecting to find?

Chapter 15

TOM

Now

‘I’ll ask again,’ DI Manning says, his ruddy face displaying his exasperation. ‘Where were you? We know you didn’t show up to work.’

‘No comment.’ I can’t believe I’ve uttered that phrase. I want to hang my head, slap myself. The word ‘guilty’ screams repeatedly in my mind. God, if I were watching this interview on the TV in the safety of my lounge, I’d be about ready to launch the remote at the screen. At my stupid face. I don’t think I have any other choice though; Maxwell is adamant I should shut up from here on in, and although I’ve gone against his earlier advice, now it seems my best, and only, recourse. I mustn’t give them anything further that they can use against me.

‘CCTV footage didn’t show you at your usual train station and your work colleagues had no knowledge of your whereabouts. You aren’t being forthcoming as to whether you had any other appointments,’ DC Cooper runs through the list. ‘It isn’t looking good for you, Tom – all this secrecy the day after you were questioned about Katie Williams just adds fuel to the fire. If you cooperate now, it’ll be looked upon more favourably than if you refuse to speak. This no comment nonsense makes you seem guilty as charged.’ Her cold eyes are boring deep into mine. I wonder if she has a partner. She doesn’t wear a wedding band. Wouldn’t surprise me if she were single, living alone with just a cat for company – if she ever actually leaves this place. Lonely. Bitter and twisted. In need of a good seeing to. I turn away from her.

‘The evidence against you is mounting, Tom. My officers have been to your home and searched through your belongings. What’s the betting they’re now in possession of more evidence to add to our file?’ Manning taps the fat cardboard folder in front of him. It’s probably filled with blank sheets of paper – another game they’re playing to make me talk – but his words do cause a burning sensation in my gut. Coppers raiding through my stuff. Traipsing through my rooms, trawling through items of Beth’s and Poppy’s and bagging them up for no reason? My nostrils flare as I attempt to control my breathing. I make fists under the table, push them into my thighs until it hurts.

‘Hit a nerve?’ DC Cooper says. ‘Worried about what we’ve secured? Because it’s my guess you hadn’t thought about Katie Williams in quite some time before DI Manning here came knocking on your door. It’s my guess you thought you’d got away with it. Got complacent in your idyllic life with your pretty wife and daughter. You certainly weren’t expecting something you’d escaped justice for eight years ago to rear its head and cause you problems now, were you? Which means you’ve not been as meticulous as you