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

but I’m appalled now that they’re actually asking. ‘No. Absolutely not. He’s the most gentle, kind and loving man, and he loves Poppy more than life itself,’ I say. ‘Ask anyone,’ I add.

‘A good, family man,’ Manning mutters.

‘Yes, exactly. Which is why this is all such madness. You’re wasting your time looking at Tom. Wherever Katie is, Tom doesn’t know. She could be living off the grid?’ It’s a hopeful suggestion. I want to ask why they’ve suddenly decided she’s come to harm almost eight years after she left the country, but they aren’t going to tell me. Let them ask the questions; no point riling them while they have my husband locked up.

‘We’ll be the ones to formulate the theories, if you don’t mind,’ DI Manning says, flatly. I mumble an apology.

‘How would you describe your relationship?’ he asks.

‘Great, thank you,’ I say, a little too abruptly. ‘We’re very happy. We’ve carved out the perfect life for ourselves here.’

‘You both appear to work very hard, Beth. Must be difficult to find time for each other, especially with a toddler. Relationships often struggle to stay on the straight and narrow when there are demands placed on them from every angle.’ It’s Cooper who says this, and it’s clear she’s digging. I’m not having that. As she hasn’t directly asked a question, I remain silent. Maxwell would be proud. She seems to realise this is what I’m doing, and asks, ‘With you immersing yourself in your new business as well as looking after Poppy, and with Tom spending a lot of his time at work, or commuting, how has that impacted on you both?’

I’m careful to take my time in answering, drinking some coffee while I think. I am aware of their eyes looking expectantly at me.

‘Of course it’s inevitable you move through different stages in a healthy relationship, and Poppy coming along took some adjustment. But she’s the best thing ever to have happened to us and we both adore her. Tom is besotted,’ I say, smiling. ‘We’ve learned to adapt, and we’ve managed to keep our marriage fresh. Tom always ensures we have some “us” time in the evenings and we have wonderful weekends together.’ I think that’s a fair assessment, give or take.

‘Tom gets home from work at what time?’

‘Around six p.m. – earlier if he can leave work promptly. He likes to spend some time with Poppy and read her a bedtime story. He arranged slightly different working hours with the bank so he could do that.’

‘Right,’ DC Cooper says, looking down and flipping through her notebook pages. She lifts her head and for a moment says nothing as she keeps my eye contact, her lips tightly pursed. I push down on my bobbing leg underneath the table. ‘As you have a “great” relationship,’ Cooper does annoying air quotes with her fingers, ‘I assume you share everything? You know, as in, there are no secrets between you?’

It’s a trick question. Every couple has at least some secrets, surely? But if I say that, she’s going to twist it and make out I’ve lied about how good our relationship is.

Play it safe.

‘We share everything, yes.’ I keep it brief. My counselling from Maxwell is paying off.

‘So, you know why he was late home on Monday evening then?’ Her gaze doesn’t waver from mine.

Shit. I don’t. I never got the chance to ask him. I’ve fallen into her trap with this. Now’s the time to simply state the truth.

‘No, I never got the opportunity because DI Manning dragged him away the moment he got home.’ I shoot Manning a caustic smile.

‘He came home again later that evening, though. Did you not discuss it then?’

‘I was in bed, and then he left for work early, as usual.’

Cooper nods, slowly. ‘Really?’ she says.

My heart rate picks up. ‘Yes, really,’ I say. I hear the quiver in my tone. No doubt they caught it too. Cooper sits forward, her face close enough now that I can smell the coffee on her breath and see the intensity of her eyes: the flecks of blue against the steel grey.

‘Would it surprise you to know he didn’t go to work the following morning?’ she says.

I unconsciously gasp. What? Tom didn’t go to work on Tuesday?

I’ve no way of coming back from the shocked reaction I’ve just displayed. And I can’t think of anything to say in response.

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ Cooper’s eyebrows shoot up and her lips form a line as she scribbles. The noise of the pen scratching over the paper is the only sound in the room.

Chapter 22

BETH

Now

My chest is tight as I walk towards the nursery; each shallow breath seems to catch in my lungs. I have to make an official statement at the police station in Banbury as soon as I can. The seriousness of the situation has finally penetrated my brain and I’m going into self-preservation mode.

Tom has lied to me.

Manning and Cooper left me with little doubt about that. They can’t be lying about Tom not going to work. Under certain circumstances I’m sure they must play around with how they put information to people they interview, but this doesn’t appear to be one of those instances. They said they’d checked CCTV footage and Tom wasn’t seen getting a train to London, and he never showed at the bank. The fact I didn’t know will go against Tom. But I’m guessing the cause for his absence from work is going against him far more. Do the detectives already know the reason why? Although I can’t see how it would link to something that happened eight years ago anyway.

The question needles at my brain: what was he doing, if not working? He left at his usual time; he was wearing a suit; he took his briefcase as normal.

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket when he came home on Monday evening. I recall it now, and I also remember the sour smell when I hugged him.