Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,105

side, as if she might run. His chest constricted painfully at the thought.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said, swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I thought I could help him. I loved him and …’ She choked out another sob.

‘You thought if you did this, he would love you back?’ Jake asked softly.

She nodded and pressed her hands to her face. ‘He doesn’t. He never did. He … I wish I was dead.’

‘Don’t. Don’t ever say that, Millie.’ Anger doing battle with the bewilderment inside him, Jake moved fast towards her, wrapping his arms around her and yanking her to him. ‘It would kill me to lose you. Please …’ Squeezing his eyes closed, he pressed her head gently to his shoulder, his face to her hair. His child. His baby. He would kill for her. ‘Don’t ever say that again.’

Holding her close, he wiped a salty tear from his own cheek and waited. ‘We should go inside,’ he suggested quietly when her sobs stilled to a shudder. It was the weekend, and they were unlikely to be disturbed. Shoppers sometimes used the car park, though. He didn’t want anyone seeing her like this.

Minutes later, with Millie safely in his office and less tearful, he fetched her a cup of tea – as if that could cure any of their monumental problems, which he felt were largely down to him. His life seemed to be slipping away from him, like sand through a timer – his children, his wife – and he could do nothing to stop it.

‘So what made you see the light?’ he asked carefully, sitting in the chair next to her, rather than opposite her like an inquisitor. He didn’t want to bombard her with questions, which might only make her close up. Nor did he want to add to the guilt she was obviously feeling. That was as evident in her eyes as the fear he’d seen there.

She wiped a hand under her nose, dropped her gaze further. ‘He was seeing someone else,’ she murmured, her heart clearly breaking. ‘Someone older. Married, I think.’

Jake felt his jaw tense. ‘And he’s how old?’ He was having to work now at sounding non-judgemental.

Millie hesitated, studying her thumbnail intently. ‘About your age,’ she admitted eventually, her voice small. ‘He lied about that too. He told me he was thirty. I thought he might be a bit older, but …’

He nodded slowly. Indescribable rage burned inside him, an inclination to murder possessing him. The urge to find the bastard and remove his testicles without the benefit of anaesthetic was almost overwhelming. ‘You’re obviously well out of it,’ he said, his voice choked.

Millie looked up at last, her eyes troubled, uncertain. ‘There’s something else,’ she began uncomfortably, then stopped as a police siren sounded right outside the window. ‘Why are there so many police in the village?’ she asked, worry flitting across her face.

Studying her carefully, he debated whether to tell her. It would only upset her more than she was already. But then she would find out anyway. ‘There’s been an incident,’ he said cautiously. ‘A woman has been run over. Natasha Jameson. The police are treating it as a hit-and-run, but I think they’re suspicious about the circumstances surrounding it.’

‘Oh my God.’ Millie’s complexion drained of all colour. ‘His shirt … it was covered in blood.’

Jake heart rate ratcheted up. ‘Whose shirt?’ he asked, his mind shooting to Ben.

‘Louis’.’ She stared at him, shocked. ‘It was soaked in blood, hidden under his bed. There was other stuff too.’ Her eyes filled with tangible panic.

Icy trepidation trailed the length of Jake’s spine ‘What stuff, Millie?’ he asked warily.

‘A letter. Photos.’ She looked away and nervously back again, then reached into her jacket pocket. ‘It wasn’t just the drugs he wanted,’ she said, her hand visibly shaking as she handed the contents to him.

Jake’s heart stalled as he looked from her to the photographs. Reading the letter, it splintered inside him.

Forty-Five

Emily

Hearing the front door open, Emily stopped uselessly pacing and flew to the hall, almost wilting with relief when Jake and Millie came in. Her relief was short-lived. Seeing her daughter’s face, her make-up cried off, her complexion chalk-white, her heart folded up inside her. ‘Millie, what’s happened?’ she asked, moving towards her daughter.

Her eyes furtive, her expression fearful, Millie didn’t answer, taking a step away from her and looking back at Jake, as if for guidance.

‘Give us a minute, Mils, will you?’ Jake smiled reassuringly at her, but