Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,73

mentioned to the police his ludicrous notion that she was taking some kind of medication, as he called it? A fresh bout of nausea swilled inside her. If asked about the competency of his staff, he might have felt obliged to. There was only one way to find out. Her stomach knotted with nerves, she drew in a breath, knocked on his door and pushed it open.

‘Hi.’ Jake smiled uncertainly as she went in. ‘This is my wife, Emily. She’s our practice manager.’ The two officers glanced in her direction. Getting to his feet, he walked around his desk towards her, his forehead creasing into a troubled frown as he looked her over.

‘Sorry I’m late. I felt a bit off colour this morning,’ Emily said, trying to keep things businesslike despite what was going on between them and the fact that they’d spent the night in separate rooms. Sally was right here in this building, no doubt desperate to see her fall apart. To see her marriage fall apart. Fran was probably in Tom’s office right now with her ear glued to the adjoining wall, poised to share her malicious gossip the second she left the room. Emily wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. She had to stay strong for her children.

‘But you’re okay now?’ Jake asked, his hand brushing her arm, deep concern clouding his eyes, sending a turmoil of conflicting emotion right through her.

‘Fine,’ she assured him. ‘I think it’s just a touch of that bug Millie and Ben both had,’ she added, pointedly reminding him that they had children. Children who were already troubled and whose futures were in danger of being marred by all of this.

‘There’s a lot of that going about. My little one’s just had it.’ The female officer smiled as she got to her feet to offer Emily her hand. ‘Liz Regan, Detective Sergeant,’ she said.

Shaking her hand, Emily made herself smile back. Regan seemed nice. She had an open, amiable face, short brown hair peppered with highlights, and sharp hazel eyes, which seemed to be weighing her up but not judging her badly. She was grateful for that much. ‘Emily Merriden,’ she said.

Regan dipped her head. ‘I gathered. This is Detective Constable Morse.’ She nodded at her colleague.

‘Dave,’ the man said, shaking Emily’s hand. ‘And no, no relation.’

Emily had to smile at that. He seemed friendly too. She felt a surge of relief wash through her. Shorter than DS Regan, he had a ready smile and a warm handshake. She relaxed a little.

‘Your husband’s filled us in,’ Regan picked up. ‘I imagine you’re all pretty shaken by events.’

‘Very,’ Emily said, swallowing as her mind conjured up an image of poor little Zoe lying in a medically induced coma with no certainty yet as to her prognosis. She thought of Natasha and the violence she’d suffered at her husband’s hands. Of Jenny and the emotional devastation that would impact on the rest of her life.

‘We know all our patients on a personal level,’ she confided, and then almost wished she hadn’t. ‘It’s a small community. Tight-knit,’ she added, feeling her cheeks heat up under Jake’s scrutiny.

DS Regan nodded sympathetically. ‘We’ll be taking statements, trying to establish who knew what about whom, and talking to everyone here individually. Is there an office we can use temporarily?’ She looked between Emily and Jake.

‘Sally’s?’ Jake suggested, his gaze flicking awkwardly down and back, Emily noticed. ‘She’s our phlebotomist. It’s actually the treatment room. She has some patients in this afternoon, but she can use Tom’s – my father’s – office. He’s a partner, but he’s only here part-time. I’m sure we can reschedule any existing appointments.’

‘Great, thanks. It will make things easier.’ DS Regan turned to Emily. ‘Your husband tells me you’ve updated all your PC logins and access codes.’

Had they? She looked at Jake, confused.

‘That’s right,’ he said, his eyes wary as they skimmed hers before going back to DS Regan. ‘Nicky did it first thing this morning, on Emily’s instruction.’

Emily’s guilt intensified. She’d organised a meeting, she recalled, but she hadn’t been here because of their personal problems … and because she’d had very little sleep again. Jake had gone ahead and asked Nicky to do it; of course he would have done. It clearly indicated that he trusted Nicky, though, where he hadn’t trusted his own wife.

‘And access to paper files?’ DS Regan asked.

‘We have lockable filing cabinets.’ Emily collected herself. ‘I’m tightening up the signing-out system for anyone who