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

cooled, but I realised as I positioned her ready for me to enter that I wasn’t aroused enough by her lifeless body. There was no excitement in seeing her waxy face, her inert limbs. No thrashing, no bucking. No need for control.

No. I enjoyed the fight and I enjoyed watching her die – but once that was done, she was redundant. Her body was a shell. I had no interest in her.

Of course, I loved her when she was alive. Obsessed over her. Wanted her to myself. That’s why she was special. It’s why I’d asked her to marry me. I’m not sure, exactly, why I gave her my mother’s engagement ring – a unique single diamond-set ring made especially for her by my paternal grandfather. There was no inscription, just two initials and hallmarks. I hadn’t told Katie it was my mother’s, for some reason – I thought perhaps she might find it too much. I hadn’t wanted to give her a reason to hesitate. But she seemed delighted to have an antique ring. She’d said she felt it had a story: a proper history.

Given my upbringing – how my mother had humiliated me, let my father abuse me and done nothing to stop him – you’d think it would be too much to bear to see this symbol of apparent love on my fiancée’s finger. But for whatever reason, I want Katie to have it. I’ve left it on her finger to remember me by, in whatever afterlife awaits her now.

It’s only when I finish the job – stumble away, exhausted – that I realise I left Katie’s mobile phone in the suitcase. Dammit. I was going to destroy it and leave it at the airport so that if someone was to report her missing – which they shouldn’t do, bearing in mind how I’ve planned things – the last place it pinged would’ve been there. Not the back of my mother’s house.

I have nothing left – all my energy, physical and emotional, is depleted. I simply couldn’t dig the suitcase back up now to retrieve it. It’s getting light, too.

No, it’s fine. If I keep my head, send the emails to her father and friends as I plan to, there will be no reason for them to search for her.

No one will ever find her here.

Chapter 83

BETH

Now

Maxwell’s call gives me the relief I so desperately need.

‘It’s done, Adam,’ I say, once I hang up.

‘They found her?’

‘Yes. With what I told them and the equipment they have, they detected variations in the ground’s surface in only three areas. Katie Williams was found on the second attempt.’ My hand, holding the mobile, drops in my lap – every ounce of energy seems to have just been zapped from me. ‘It’s over.’ I slump back into the sofa. My entire body feels like it’s wilting.

‘It’s not though, is it?’ Adam says, gently. ‘I don’t mean to sound negative, Beth. But they still have to link him to the body – it still has to be enough for a jury to return a guilty verdict at his trial.’

His trial.

Before he hung up, Maxwell said the date had been set. Four months from now. I’m dreading it and want that over too as soon as possible. I need to move on. I know Adam’s right – of course it’s not over until then. But this part is. My part in it is done.

‘Maxwell said that Imogen had sounded optimistic there’s enough evidence to secure a conviction,’ I say. ‘Not good news for him and Tom, obviously. He sounded pretty devastated. He says they think they have vital forensic evidence from the crime scene as well as from Katie’s remains and the burial ground. Let’s face it, Tom took her to the back of his old family home. That’s pretty damning; it all ties in.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Adam says. ‘I want this to be over for you and Poppy, I really do. If everyone realises you’ve done what you can to help, and that you were lucky not to be one of his victims, then they should leave you alone – the bloody journalists and the idiots who are targeting you.’

I manage a smile and shift up the sofa to be closer to him. His arm drapes around me and he pulls me in to him. It’s the first time we’ve allowed ourselves to be close like this. We sit in silence and I relish the warmth of his body.

‘Oh, I meant to say.’ Adam pulls away and faces me. ‘I emailed the photo I took of that car to the police and they got back to me earlier to say they’ve traced the owner.’

‘Good. And what are they going to do about it? I hope they charge him with—’

‘It wasn’t a him.’

‘It was a bloke who spat at me!’

‘Yes, but the car wasn’t registered to him. The sergeant I spoke to said he couldn’t divulge any more to me as it was an ongoing investigation, but they did ask me to make sure you called them “at your earliest convenience”.’

‘Hmmm. Okay, then. Sounds intriguing.’

‘Maybe they are also to blame for the gallows.’

‘I hope so, then that can be cleared up too.’

‘Things are looking up, finally.’ Adam jumps up and heads towards the kitchen. ‘I feel we should celebrate,’ he calls.

I want to shout after him; remind him that he didn’t think it was over yet – that it’s too premature for celebration. But he appears as relieved as I am that I’ve told Imogen all that I know now, and I don’t want to spoil the moment. Plus, I could really do with a drink.

‘Here you go,’ he says, handing me a champagne flute. ‘It’s not champers yet – it’s just Prosecco. We’ll save the good stuff for the final verdict.’

‘Thanks, Adam. I really appreciate your support.’

‘It’s my pleasure. Thank you, too. Despite the stress and … well, weirdness, I’m so glad you came into my life.’

We clink glasses