The Vow - Debbie Howells Page 0,79
‘Morning. I’m sorry. As I explained yesterday, we can’t allow anyone to go inside.’
‘I know. I just wanted to come here.’ This morning, even the air feels different. Then I realise, there are no birds. Instead, there’s an eerie silence, and I realise the sense of peace my mother has nurtured is no longer part of the framework of this place; that the intangible serenity she’s tried so hard to preserve has gone.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I take in the plastic tape cordoning off the front garden, presumably the extent of what they consider the crime scene, the second police officer sitting inside the other car. Gazing up at the windows, the house looks unfamiliarly cold and bleak. Tears prick my eyes, because when all this is over, life can never go back to how it was.
PC Page’s voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘OK.’ Still staring at the house, I shrug. ‘I was thinking about a lot of stuff.’ Turning to look at her, I pause. ‘I know my mother’s a suspect, but if she’s innocent, which I’m a hundred per cent sure she is, I was trying to think who else could be involved in Matt’s disappearance. The obvious answer is this other woman he was seeing. Maybe she ran out of patience when he didn’t leave Mum. She killed him because she couldn’t bear the thought of him being with someone else. The bouquet was to get back at Mum. Or maybe he was as awful to her as he was to Mum.’ My voice wavers. ‘Either way, she could have a motive.’ I hesitate before asking the burning question I need an answer to. ‘I need you to tell me what you think my mother has done.’
PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘While the investigation is still going on, all I can tell you is that we have sufficient evidence to implicate your mother. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that.’
My stomach churns as she speaks, but it still isn’t conclusive. ‘Have you found his body?’
‘Not yet.’ She sighs. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, Jess. But as well as physical evidence, we have accounts of what was going on between Matt and your mother. Enough for us to build a fairly clear picture of what was happening.’
‘But you still don’t actually have a body.’ My voice is fierce as I challenge her.
She doesn’t comment. Then she changes the subject. ‘I did want to ask you more about what you’ve discovered about Mr Roche – through Facebook. Is now a good time?’
Nodding, I think of the pictures on my wall at uni. ‘I started looking through his friends. There was a woman called Mandy, who he was with before he met my mother. From the comments, I think he treated her quite badly. Before her, there were others, more short-lived – mostly wealthy women who led him to meet the next wealthy woman. It was through Mandy that he met my friend Sasha’s mum. And it was through her that he met Mum.’
All the time I’m talking, she listens intently, a frown on her face. ‘I think you should show me. And we’ll try to contact Mandy. See what she has to say about him. If it was as contrived as you’re describing, it suggests there has to be a reason.’
‘He’s motivated by money – at least, that’s what it looks like. I honestly think he was after our house. He was adamant about selling and moving to Brighton. I think that’s why he hadn’t cancelled the wedding. Once they were married, wouldn’t he have been entitled to half the house? Or else …’ I stop, not knowing what to believe. ‘Unless Mum was his key to someone else – someone he’s already met. The next woman whose money he wants to get his hands on.’
Quiet for a moment, PC Page gets out a small notebook and starts writing. ‘You mentioned your mother met Matt through your friend Sasha’s mum – can you give me her name and address?’
Nodding, I tell her, watching her write it down, suddenly realising it’s me who needs to talk to Sasha’s mum, as soon as possible. ‘Are you going to call her?’
‘We may well do.’ She pauses, frowning. ‘Going back to what you said just now, about Matt eyeing up a potential partner … Have you found anything to suggest who that might be?’
I shake my head. ‘Not yet. It was a