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

‘Oh, God. So back to square one, really, then. All this circumstantial evidence but nothing a good lawyer wouldn’t be able to explain away. He’s a vile, cheating husband, but not necessarily a killer.’ Hearing these words as they leave my mouth shocks me – something about putting Tom’s actions in a nutshell like this leaves me cold.

‘I’m afraid you’re right. We still have a strong case – there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence stacking up. I’d rather have conclusive proof, though. Make it watertight. Your husband shouldn’t be allowed out of prison for the rest of his life.’

Strangely, I still have the urge to defend Tom. ‘But he was seeing someone for sex, and I imagine it was to act out the fantasies I was never keen on – so that he wouldn’t hurt me. He was trying to protect me and Poppy from himself.’

‘Maybe, yes. It’s possibly why he went so long without committing another offence. But, ultimately, it seems his urge to kill became too great. He lost control.’

‘He only ever lost control when he felt let down, though. Phoebe and Katie made him feel worthless. And Tom said their deaths were spur of the moment accidents. Strangulation doesn’t strike me as accidental. Why would he kill this woman if he was only seeing her for his sexual fantasies?’

‘I think he’s the only one who can answer that now.’

A thought catches me. ‘Could it have been a sex game gone wrong?’

‘It’s a possibility.’ Imogen doesn’t add anything. She probably knows more from the post-mortem than she’s letting on.

Part of me is shocked at hearing Tom had been paying for sex, but the other part feels a pang of guilt. I don’t know whether to count this as an affair. I’d believed he was cheating on me, so I acted out of anger. I’ve betrayed his trust and led the detectives to more incriminating evidence. And it seems he was doing it out of love for his family instead. To keep himself from hurting me.

Now, though, there’s only one way to go. I’ve come this far – I need to give Imogen everything. I take a deep breath.

‘I think I know where Katie Williams’ remains might be,’ I say.

Chapter 79

TOM

Now

Nerves consume me.

They’ve linked me to Natalia. I knew her body would be found, but was confident they wouldn’t look at me for it.

I’d left her flat and gone home afterwards, assuming no one would find her before I returned the following day to properly clear up. At the time, I’d been more concerned about ensuring the arrangement she’d made with her friend to meet the following day wouldn’t go ahead – I’d used her finger to access her phone and sent a message to Mandy cancelling their shopping trip. Natalia had told me about her day off before our session.

Having been questioned about Katie’s presumed murder that evening, it was a huge risk to go back – but I couldn’t chance leaving the scene as I had. Couldn’t leave her as I had.

I’d planned to dispose of her body as I had Katie’s. I’d gone to see Oscar at his garage – I gave him some story about my car having a flat battery and needing one ASAP to get to work. He let me borrow a car that was due to go to auction. I was going to bundle her into the boot and drive somewhere remote, but once I got to her place, I didn’t fancy my chances. It was daytime in a busy London borough – there were people everywhere. So I’d bottled it. It’s not as easy to get away with things in this digital world. There’s CCTV everywhere, and people with mobile phones posting anything that looks remotely unusual to social media. It’s not like it was back when I’d killed Phoebe, or even Katie. Life is more complicated now.

Or maybe I’m not as daring. After all, I’ve a family to consider.

Going through my actions for the millionth time, I conclude there should be nothing to say categorically that I’d been the one to kill Natalia. Any DNA evidence only confirms I’ve been there, at her flat – touched her, had sex with her – just like the half a dozen or so other men she’d had that day. Of course, if the police manage to track these other men down, they may well have alibis for the time of death, which would leave just me. But I’ll bet they won’t easily trace them – the draw of seeing Natalia was that she wasn’t your standard sex worker. It was all very private – she didn’t flout her wares, didn’t advertise what she did – it was through word of mouth only. No details, nothing traceable. Unless she told someone, like her friend, about the men she had visit her, no one would know. She managed herself; didn’t have someone looking out for her.

Her mistake.

But she did scratch my neck.

The recollection makes my pulse rise.

No. I cleaned her body, scraped her nails – I’m sure.

Breathe.

I should try and stay calm. Maxwell will be able to get me off the hook with this one easily enough. Everything is explainable.

Of course, now I think about it, I wasn’t so careful with Katie. I suppose the adrenaline, the sexual gratification I experienced when killing her, took over my senses. I think I’d probably call it a crime of passion.

I hadn’t been thinking as clearly when I disposed of her. I hadn’t worn gloves; I hadn’t bleached her body. But it would be badly decomposed by now – possibly only a skeleton – so that won’t matter. What I buried with her, on the other hand? That will be crucial evidence; might tip the balance towards a guilty verdict. That was my mistake. Among others.

The knot in my gut suddenly intensifies.

Beth has supposedly given the detectives evidence to help their case against me. She’s handed over the sweatshirt in an attempt to