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

or disbelieve. Tom has instructed my firm to act on his behalf. If this gets to court—’

My heart pumps furiously. ‘You said they didn’t have enough evidence to even charge him, and now you’re talking about court,’ I say, pushing myself up from the chair, my hands flat on the table as I lean across it towards Maxwell. ‘And how can we be sure that Katie is dead? Aren’t they still looking for her?’

‘All the evidence, or lack of, points to Katie no longer being alive, Beth. She’s just completely disappeared. At first her friends accepted she had just gone travelling, but it seems her only communication with them was via email, and they began to suspect they weren’t even from her. She never used a credit card to buy anything abroad. There’s no trace. So, with no proof of life, I’m afraid they’re searching for a body.’

‘Tom had nothing to do with her disappearance, or her supposed death, Maxwell,’ I say. ‘You said you’d get him released.’

‘I know what I said, Beth,’ he sighs. ‘Surprisingly, given that DI Manning is such an experienced officer, he’s playing silly buggers, not disclosing all the evidence to me. I’m afraid to say I think the investigating officers are looking pretty smug with themselves. I’ve a bad feeling they might have enough for the CPS to allow them to bring charges: they’re holding something back and at first I thought it was because what they had was weak, but now I’m not so certain.’

It takes several seconds for this information to sink in, and when it does, I feel my legs give. I sit back down heavily, shaking my head vehemently. ‘No, no, no.’

‘I’m sorry, Beth. It’s just a might, but I wanted to prepare you for it. We’ll do everything we can to ensure we get him back home to you and Poppy.’

I’m worried about Tom, but I can’t stop thinking about what this means for me. It dawns on me that if Tom is charged, I’m going to be the most looked-at person in Lower Tew.

The wife of a suspected murderer.

Chapter 19

BETH

Now

Maxwell was right. After he left, the police were on the phone within the hour, asking when a convenient time to chat would be. I’ve managed to put them off and said tomorrow after lunch would suit me. They asked me to go to the station, but after I explained I didn’t have anyone to pick Poppy up from nursery, they agreed to come to the cottage. Leaving it until tomorrow gives me time to think about everything Maxwell talked about and consider how to frame my answers, too. Clearly I’m going to need it.

Earlier, Maxwell rattled off the types of questions he thought would come up and, despite everything he kept telling me, I said too much every time I tried to answer one. ‘Too much waffle,’ he said. Waffle which, if he is to be believed, could make things worse for Tom.

Pushing them to wait also allows the hours to tick away. The less time they have to gather evidence, the more likely the ninety-six hours Maxwell said they’d push for will elapse and they’ll have to release him.

I’ve tidied the kitchen, put Poppy’s toys away and now, as I’m about to crash on the sofa and put my feet up, there’s another knock on the door. I attempt to quiet the panicked voice inside my head telling me it’s the police trying to catch me out by turning up early.

But it could be.

Shit.

I take a deep, juddering breath in and open the door, leaving the chain across. I expect to see two stern-faced detectives as I had on Monday night, but it’s just one person standing there. I’m relieved it’s not police, but somewhat shocked to see Adam instead.

‘Hi,’ he says, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. ‘I realise this is an uninvited intrusion, but I … well, I heard about Tom’s arrest.’ He squints, as though he’s afraid he’ll get shouted at. ‘If you want me to mind my own bloody business, then please, just tell me to do one. But, in case no one has asked you how you are, or whether you need any support, I thought I’d be that person. I know what it’s like to be avoided, remember?’ His smile now is wide, reaching his eyes. His kind eyes. He radiates warmth. So much so, I burst into tears.

‘Oh, no. I’m so sorry.’ He raises both hands in front of him, palms up, and takes a step back as though he’s physically caused me harm. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you, Beth …’ He looks mortified.

‘No. No. It’s fine – it’s just been a very long day. You’ve not upset me.’ I close the door a bit so I can unlatch the chain, then open it wide and step aside to let him in. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry for crying.’

‘Don’t be. I cry all the time,’ he says. I laugh through my tears. Then I fret as I realise he’s not joking.

‘Oh, you’re serious. I – I didn’t mean to laugh. You’ve every right to cry.’

Now Adam laughs.

‘Let’s start again,’ he says. ‘I’m popping over to offer my shoulder to cry on, if you so wish. Or to chat, share a moan, listen while you freak out – or whatever might be helpful to you at this point.’

‘All of the above, I think.’

He nods. ‘Good. Then I’m glad I didn’t bottle it at the top of your path.’

‘You were thinking about it?’

‘Oh, God, yes! I don’t know you very well. I mean, you seem lovely. You were amazing with Jess yesterday and you offered to have her over here, which was so kind of you. But still, you could’ve bitten my head off for all I know.’

‘Yes, that was a distinct possibility, I guess. Now, can I offer you a drink? Where is Jess?’

‘I have a wonderful neighbour called Constance, who likes to help me out sometimes. She’s