Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (large ebook reader .txt) 📗

Old Bill for that.’ He hesitated before walking down the stairs. Frankie was right behind him. ‘Something’s kicked off. One of the girls is in trouble, maybe.’

They reached the bottom. She was aware of the black figures filling the hallway as the police and Jude turned to look at them.

‘Are you Martin Jarvis?’ one policeman said.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘And you currently reside on a houseboat named’ – the officer consulted his notebook – ‘Morning Mist, that’s moored just north of canal bridge number 137. Is that correct?’

‘My boat is called Morning Mist yes, but I don’t know any bridge numbers. Why, what’s happened?’

‘In that case, I would like you to accompany us to the police station, sir. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

Martin looked at each of their faces as though wondering if this was a joke. Jude’s face was a mask of shock.

‘The body of a young woman was discovered this morning in the canal.’ The policeman looked at Frankie and then back at Martin.

She felt something crawl across her scalp.

‘The body was found in the water next to your boat, Mr Jarvis. We don’t have a formal identification as yet, but a girl fitting her description didn’t come home last night. She was reported missing by her parents.’

Frankie’s knees wouldn’t hold her any longer, and she sat down hard on the stairs.

‘We were wondering if you were able to give us any information, or help in any way?’

She watched the back of Martin’s head. It swung back and forth. He didn’t make a sound.

‘We know you were present at an address in Cheyne Road at a party, Mr Jarvis. We have plenty of witnesses putting you there. We also have CCTV footage that shows you and this girl together. Maybe I can jog your memory a little. Would that help? The missing girl’s name is Charlotte. Charlotte Vale.’

Chapter Seven

Now

She watches Alex’s face as he stands there in the doorway. His hand is still clutching the edge as though he’s afraid to let go.

‘So you think this guy stalking you is someone you used to work with in a care home?’ He looks down blankly at the note.

‘Yes.’

‘What was his name again?’ He tips his head.

‘Matthew Jarrow.’

She has no idea where that name came from.

‘So, your managers knew about his behaviour: this over-familiarity, and eventually they got him transferred?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that was the last you heard of him?’

‘Until someone told me that he’s just come out of prison.’

Alex stares down at the piece of paper in his hand again. She’s glad he’s not looking at her face. The lie scours her cheeks.

‘And we don’t know what he was in for?’

‘No.’

‘But you definitely think this is him?’ He lifts his head.

‘I don’t know.’

‘And that phone call?’

‘I – I don’t know. I really don’t. It could’ve been. It’s just silence, normally.’

She realises the way she’s phrased it is a mistake.

‘So this isn’t the first time?’

The appalling snowball of the pretence begins to pick up speed. She needs to stop it somehow. This is mad, stupid.

‘How long has this been going on?’

She can’t breathe.

‘And why didn’t you just tell me?’

Her jaw clenches painfully. She rubs a tired hand across her face so that she doesn’t have to look at him. ‘Alex – look, I don’t know. I should’ve… Maybe I thought… Well, you’ve got enough going on without all this.’ She casts a hand across the notes.

‘I’ll ask again: how long?’

‘A few weeks – a month maybe.’

‘Jesus.’ He watches her, appalled. ‘And the shit state of my life is the only reason you haven’t mentioned it?’

Her head snaps up. ‘Of course!’

‘So why now?’

She looks at him, puzzled.

‘What?’

‘Why is he contacting you now after all this time?’

She can’t bear this. ‘Because he’s been released, maybe? Maybe he blames me. Maybe he’s obsessed. I don’t know.’

‘Christ.’

She is aware of him searching her face. He must see it, surely? The burn of shame: the lie, upon lie, upon lie. How she wishes she could tell him the truth, but she can’t. She can’t go back and undo everything.

Alex reaches out and grabs her hand suddenly.

‘Frankie.’ He clasps it; his eyes are soft with tenderness. ‘Y’know the worst thing?’

She wishes he wouldn’t look at her. She despises herself.

‘The worst thing is, I can’t bear the fact that you felt you couldn’t come to me. I can’t live with the idea that you’ve had to go through this thing on your own. I’ve been completely self-absorbed, I know that. I am so sorry – so, so sorry. I’ve punished you – I know I have.’

‘It’s okay. It’s my fault. I should’ve said…’ She’s stunned and appalled to find him drawing her to him, relaxing against her, burying his forehead in her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. She thinks he might be crying. She has truly never felt more terrible, more awful than she does right now.

‘Shh… Honestly… it’ll be okay, Alex. It’ll be fine.’ She hates herself.

‘It will once we go to the police.’ He pulls away, abruptly. ‘We go to the police with these letters and we’ll tell them everything. If you’re right and this guy has been released, then they need to know that he’s threatening and harassing you.’ He kneels down on the carpet and begins to push the papers gingerly back into the envelope. ‘Fingerprints. There could be fingerprints,’ he mutters.

She watches the feverish gathering.

‘And the phone. Bring something with the account number on it. They’ll want to check out the call log too. Come on.’

‘What, we’re going right now?’ She looks at him in astonishment.

‘Yep, now.’ He’s very definite. ‘You’ve got some bloody nutcase stalking you. Of course we’re going to the police. We should’ve gone to them weeks ago. Now, come on.’

Chapter Eight

Frankie sits across a grey desk in an even greyer side room, giving her statement to a policewoman called Julia. Julia was just about to go off duty after a nightshift but is glad she can help them. Julia sounds as though she’s been on a