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

about you, Jimmy. I guess you were the only friend he’d made a connection with at the bank.’ I know this isn’t quite true, but maybe if I massage this bloke’s ego, he might be happier about opening up to me.

‘Look, I’m really sorry about what’s happened. I can’t believe they’ve dragged Tom in about this missing woman. How can they even be certain she was murdered? It’s madness. But I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help his case, Beth. I’m sorry.’

He sounds as though he’s wrapping up the conversation. I have to keep him chatting. ‘I understand, Jimmy. I think I was just hoping to fill in the gaps and find out what was troubling him before this all kicked off. He hasn’t been himself for a while and I’m worried something happened …’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what if they’re right, Jimmy? What if he murdered her? You never really know a person, do you? I have to accept there’s a possibility the police are right. As far as I knew, he went to work on the Tuesday – but he never showed. Apparently he phoned Celia to say he had been ill on the commute and he was on his way home. But he didn’t come home as far as I know – not until later. He could’ve been trying to cover something up in that time. Maybe he was concealing evidence of him murdering Katie before the police came down hard on him. It’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it?’

‘God, Beth,’ Jimmy lets out a long sigh. He stays silent for a while.

I prompt him. ‘What’s wrong? Did you know he was trying to get rid of evidence?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that. None of this is what you think, Beth. Tom’s a good man.’ He pauses. ‘Or, he’s not a killer, anyway.’

He clearly doesn’t know Tom well, then. ‘Then what?’ I say.

‘He wasn’t destroying evidence that day. Or concealing it, or whatever. He was …’

I hear Jimmy scratching his beard. He’s clearly torn between his loyalty to Tom and telling me what he knows.

‘He was what?’ I ask, impatiently.

‘I’m sorry, Beth. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but it’s the lesser of two evils …’ He lets out a puff of air. ‘I can’t have you thinking he’s a murderer. Please don’t shoot the messenger.’

I’m suddenly worried. What could be worse than destroying evidence of a murder?

‘I won’t. I promise. Please, Jimmy, I need to know.’

‘He wasn’t at work, because he was visiting someone.’

‘Who?’ My pulse bangs in my throat.

‘He’s been … seeing someone. He made me swear to keep it to myself.’

‘A fucking affair?’ I momentarily lose all grip on my emotions. That can’t be right. ‘He wouldn’t …’

‘Beth, it’s been going on for a while. Like, years, I reckon.’ Jimmy’s tone has altered dramatically, going from defensive to sympathetic. I don’t want his sympathy. The room spins; my head is getting lighter and lighter. Jimmy must be lying. Tom loves me; only me. He’s always been faithful. He’s the jealous type – he wouldn’t cheat, because he loathes people who do.

Like Katie Williams.

‘Do you know who with? Where?’

‘Only that he’d sneak off at lunchtimes to see her, so it had to be close. And occasionally he’d leave work early and I know he didn’t head home to you.’

The words sting. An affair was the last thing I’d been expecting to find out.

Do I know my husband at all?

* * *

I sit in the darkened room in silence, absolutely still. Only my mind is active. It’s working overtime as I consider how, why, Tom cheated on me.

I wish he were here now so I could yell at him; tell him what a bastard he is. A lying, cheating, murdering bastard of a husband. He doesn’t deserve a loving wife and daughter. Why would he ever put the life he supposedly loves in jeopardy by having an affair? It doesn’t make sense.

Jimmy must be wrong. He didn’t say Tom had categorically disclosed this affair to him. In fact, Jimmy seemed to be guessing based merely on Tom disappearing at lunchtimes. Although he did say that he’d promised Tom he wouldn’t say anything. No. It’s more likely that Tom didn’t want to socialise with his work colleagues and made an excuse, so he didn’t have to suffer them for the entire day. I know he often ordered gifts from the London Zoo click and collect service and then walked across to pick them up to bring back for Poppy.

That was his cover. His alibi.

I can’t prevent the thought, and now I’ve had it, it grows. It casts a different light on everything. Have I been made a fool of?

Shaking myself from my trance, I make another call.

It goes to voicemail.

‘Hi, DC Cooper, it’s Beth Hardcastle. I need to see you.’ Rage gives my voice an edge. I pause, knowing that once I say this, there’s no return. Anger, hurt and humiliation all take over and I carry on. ‘I need to tell you something,’ I say. ‘It’s urgent.’ I don’t embellish; I hang up.

Now I wait.

Chapter 65

He cried for twenty minutes; she didn’t think he’d ever stop. It was as if a plug had been pulled on all of his pent-up emotions, all of his long-held pain, and now he was releasing them. She wonders: why now? What made this moment any different from the others? It can’t have been anything she said or did. Something has happened. She wants to ask him about his wife, but she daren’t – she doesn’t want to anger him, or upset him any more than he is already. So she silently strokes his hair as he recovers from his outburst. He’s like a child, she thinks, being comforted by his mother. She gets the feeling his relationship with her wasn’t a good one either; nor with his father. In her experience, damaged people like him tend to be born from