His Other Life. Beth Thomas
Читать онлайн книгу.
scream out loud where I am, right there by the toaster, and the knife block falls over with a clatter. I spin in place, heart thudding, to face the door. Through the opaque glass panels in the door I can see a dark, formless shape, indistinguishable as either man or woman, hunched and heavy. The top part of the shape swivels slightly as I watch, turning to look around it, observing its surroundings. Yet again it feels like the undead Adam, returning to me grey and cold and dripping with lake water.
‘I’ll get him to call you,’ I manage to croak. I need to be free of this call so I can focus on my fear of the front door. One frightening thing at a time is all I can handle. If that, actually. ‘What’s your number?’ I’m staring at the door as I advance slowly towards it.
‘No, don’t do that,’ the gravelly voice says. ‘I’ll call again. Soon.’ And finally, thankfully, the phone clicks off. I put it quickly down on the kitchen counter like a ticking bomb, then turn to face my next fear. I want to take the bread knife, but it could be awkward to answer the door holding it if it’s the postman, so I leave it there. As I walk down the hallway, my gaze is fixed on the lumpy shape behind the glass, and when I reach for the door catch, the image of a bloated, sallow-skinned Adam comes back into my head, and my hand hesitates in mid-air. I close my eyes. It won’t be him at all, in any condition, I tell myself, least of all a walking corpse. I’m just being ridiculous. My hand trembles a little as I’m opening the door, so I grab my arm with my other hand.
As soon as the door opens fully, I see it’s the female police liaison officer that was here before, Linda. She smiles at me, then frowns as apparently I go a bit pale.
‘You all right, Grace?’ she says, stepping nearer. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale. Are you poorly?’
‘No, no, I’m fine. I just thought, when you knocked …’
She smacks her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I’m so insensitive. I’m really sorry. Missing husband, unexpected visits from the police, of course you thought the worst.’
She has no idea.
‘I really am very sorry.’ She puts her hand out and gently squeezes my arm. ‘I did try to call your mobile from the car, but couldn’t get through. Not that that’s any excuse. I promise next time I will wait outside in the car until I’ve spoken to you on the phone. That way, you’ll always know I’m coming, and then if anyone ever turns up unannounced, you’ll know it’s because …’ She trails off and looks away. ‘Ahem. Anyway, you’ll know when I’m coming. OK?’
I nod wordlessly.
‘Can I come in then?’
As we walk along the hallway, Linda starts to go into the living room because that’s where we went last time she was here.
‘No!’ I almost shout, and block her path.
She looks at me sidelong. ‘Something wrong?’
‘No, nothing, just my friend, passed out drunk in there.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. She hit it a bit hard last night.’
‘Any reason for that?’
Bloody hell, you can really tell she’s a copper. I just manage to stop myself in time from saying that we had the news about Adam’s car last night. Matt told me off the record yesterday, from what he’d overheard in the stationery cupboard or something, so I can’t let on he’s said anything because it will probably get him into trouble. ‘Don’t think so. Quite standard for her. Plus, you know, this whole situation …’
‘Having a tough time, is she?’
I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Would she be happier if it was me sweating red wine on the sofa in there? I decide not to answer and just shrug as we go into the kitchen.
‘OK, well. I’ve got some news for you,’ she says, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘Come and sit down, Grace.’
My heart starts thudding in a dart of panic, but then I realise that she’s probably about to tell me officially about Adam’s car. I arrange my features into what I hope says, ‘Oh Christ what is this news you’ve come to tell me is it good or bad I don’t think I can take any more,’ and sit down in the chair next to Linda. ‘What is it? Have they found him?’
She narrows her eyes at me then, as if she’s found what I’ve asked a bit odd. Or is struggling to understand it. ‘Nooo,’ she says slowly. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my husband has vanished into the night and I was kind of hoping involving the police might lead to him being found.’ I widen my eyes. ‘Was I wrong?’
She takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. ‘No, Grace, you weren’t wrong, we’re obviously doing what we can to find him. It looks like it’s going to take a bit longer than we thought, though.’
‘Why? What’s changed?’
She presses her lips together and tilts her head on one side. I think she’s trying to look like she’s compassionate. ‘We’ve made a discovery, Grace. It’s what we were hoping for, a lead of some description, but now that we’ve found it, it’s turned out to be a dead end.’
‘Oh for the love of God, tell me already!’
She flinches a little, then resumes her calm, compassionate look. ‘It’s the car, Grace. We’ve found Adam’s car.’
She freezes at this point, with her head still tilted, her eyebrows still drawn together. I can tell that in her head she’s hearing the EastEnders theme tune starting. But this isn’t a cliff hanger, I already knew about it.
‘Oh. Right. I see.’
She almost imperceptibly narrows her eyes again. ‘Don’t you have any questions?’
‘Oh, er, yes, yes, of course I do. I mean, this is a bit of a shock so I’m, you know, I’m a bit … out of …’ I pause. Come on, Gracie, get it together. ‘Was there anything in it? Any evidence? A lead?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nothing obvious, I’m afraid. It’s being examined by our forensics team at the moment, though, so we might know more eventually.’
‘Oh, right.’ I nod thoughtfully, aware that she is scrutinising my reaction, not entirely sure that I’m coming across as convincing. ‘No curry then?’
‘No, love, not so much as a poppadum.’
‘Right. The bastard.’
She smiles. ‘Anything else you want to ask?’
Her face is enigmatic. It makes me think there is definitely something else I should ask. And if I don’t ask it, this could be one of those disastrous coincidences or shocking inaccuracies that pile up and pile up and ultimately find me languishing behind bars for the next forty years. Come on, Gracie, think! What else do I need to know? What did Matt tell us last night? The car was found, it had no curry in it …
‘Oh, I know,’ I burst out. ‘Where was it found?’
So she tells me about Linton and I ask where that is and she says North Yorkshire and I say I’ve never heard of it and hope to God she doesn’t see the print-out of the directions from Google Maps that’s lying on the kitchen side near the bread bin.
Just before she leaves, she tells me that there’s been no break-in at Adam’s work premises, so no lead in that direction either. I nod and say, ‘OK’, and eventually she goes. As I watch her little police Clio speeding off up the road, I spot Pam’s head from next door looking out of her side window at me. She’s not being remotely discreet as she spies, with the net curtain pulled all the way back so her shiny white china figurine of two people dancing is completely visible. What room is that? Must be a study, or possibly a side window in the dining room. Either way, she didn’t just happen to be in there at ten o’clock in the morning; she’s gone in there deliberately to