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

has parked his vehicle to the entrance of the police station. I shiver, cursing myself for not grabbing a coat before leaving the cottage – I had to leave my suit jacket in the car. I cross my arms firmly as I stride, stopping when I realise I’m too far ahead of the detectives. I’m not that eager to get inside. If I think I’m chilly now, I imagine it’ll only get worse once they start on me.

Don’t jump to conclusions: you’ve not been arrested.

My mind flits around as I attempt to predict the who, what and where. I’m shown into a small room inside the station and told to sit and wait. These kinds of delaying tactics are employed to make you nervous. Edgy. Cause adrenaline to pump around your body while you sweat about what’s to come.

Maybe I’m overthinking it. I hope against all hope they really are just asking a few questions about someone who I’ve not seen forever – or even better, have never actually met. Maybe I don’t even know the person. The victim. It could all be some tenuous link, like we went to the same gym, or they’re an old banking client of mine. Yes, that’ll be it.

I take a slow, long breath in, trying to compose myself.

I don’t want to appear guilty before I’ve even opened my mouth.

My mind wanders to Beth’s face as I left with the detectives. Her mouth agape, all colour drained from her pretty heart-shaped face.

She looked afraid. Like she had reason to be.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a police station, but it is the first time I’ve been interviewed in relation to a murder.

I clench my fists under the rectangular table. My wedding ring digs into the flesh of the neighbouring fingers. I will my hands to relax again, pulling my arms from beneath the table and resting them loosely in front of me. I’ll come across as less stressed if I do that. I close my eyes lightly, blocking out the dull yellow, windowless walls. The room is claustrophobic, airless, and that’s without other bodies in here. Why couldn’t they ask their questions in the comfort of my own home for God’s sake?

Because it’s bad, the voice in my head answers.

Oh, God. What’s coming?

My eyes spring open at the sound of the door.

I guess I’m about to find out.

Chapter 5

BETH

Now

The mattress dips, shifting my body only slightly, but enough to wake me; I’d only been in a light sleep.

‘Tom? What time is it?’ I sit up, blinking rapidly.

‘Shhh. Don’t worry, go back to sleep, love,’ he says. He swings his legs in under the duvet and cuddles up to me. His skin feels cold against mine and I shiver. ‘Sorry, Beth,’ he breathes into my neck.

‘Sorry for being cold?’

‘No. You know what I mean. I’m sorry for tonight – for being late, then … well, the rest.’

‘Is everything sorted now?’ Tiredness has drained me; my voice is a whisper.

‘We’ll talk in the morning.’

‘But we never have time for that,’ I say, groggily.

‘Well, never mind – don’t worry about it now.’

Being told not to worry about something tends to have the opposite effect.

‘We’ll talk now,’ I say, pushing myself up on my elbow and looking at Tom. The moonlight creeps in through a gap in the curtains, but it’s not enough to see any of his features. I flip over and turn on the bedside lamp.

‘Oh, Beth! Not now.’ He shields his eyes.

‘It has to be now. There’s too much going on tomorrow – I’ve got to prepare for a birthday party and then collect Poppy from nursery and take her back with me as the party starts at four—’

‘It is tomorrow,’ he groans, cutting me off. ‘There’ll be time in the evening. Now try and settle back down.’ He begins to turn away from me.

‘No, Tom. Sit up, please. I need to know what happened at the station,’ I plead. ‘Were you able to help them with their enquiries? Who is it they were asking about? Someone you know? Please tell me it’s nothing bad.’

He relents, huffing as he stacks his pillows up against the headboard and leans back into them. I hear a long puff of air expelling from his nostrils. My pulse bangs in my neck as I wait for the answers.

‘It was about Katie,’ he says, simply.

‘Shit.’ He doesn’t need to say more than her first name. I know who she is. Katie Williams was Tom’s girlfriend just prior to meeting me. As far as anyone knew, she went off to travel the world, or something like that. I knew she’d broken Tom’s heart – he’d told me on our first date. But we’d only ever spoken about her once since then. Tom doesn’t dwell on the past. You have to keep looking forward, he always says.

‘Yes. Shit.’ He lowers his head, his chin almost touching his chest. I move close to him, laying one arm over his stomach, my fingertips circling the hair around his belly button.

‘Right. That’s a shock. When did they find her?’

‘Oh, no,’ Tom says, shaking his head. ‘They haven’t. They only suspect she’s come to harm.’

‘Well, that’s good, then,’ I say, optimism filling my voice.

‘Maybe.’

‘They only wanted to talk to you because you’re an ex-boyfriend, then. Did they ask if you’d spoken to her recently?’

‘That sort of thing, yes.’

‘Which means you couldn’t really help them, then. Seeing as you haven’t.’

‘Exactly. So, nothing to worry about. I’ve done my bit. Now, go to sleep, Beth. You’ll be knackered when the alarm goes off.’

‘I’m always knackered – it’s my default setting,’ I say, attempting a smile.

‘I’ll fill you in properly tomorrow.’

For the moment, I’m satisfied. I switch the light off, wriggle down the bed and lay my arm across Tom’s waist. I want to let him know I’m there; the supportive wife. My mind doesn’t want to settle, though, and it goes into overdrive, thinking about everything I know about Katie – which isn’t a