*
As we leave Falmouth behind, the leaden skies lighten, but only slightly. It’s one of those days that knows only half-light, the drive seeming endless, while my brain tries to pull together the little I know and make sense of it. On the way, I text Rik, wanting him to know what I’m doing. Something’s going on with Mum. I’m on my way home. I’ll call you and fill you in later xxxx
The further east we drive, the busier the roads become. The closer we get to Brighton, the longer the journey seeming to take; my frustration building as roadworks mean the city centre is gridlocked.
Gazing out of the window, even the sea is different here, the same steel shade as the sky. Our speed reduced to a crawl, I wish none of this was happening; that Mum was at home and I was back in Cornwall – my hatred for Matt growing with every minute.
Eventually we reach the custody centre. As Cath turns into the car park, I’m nervous suddenly, my stomach knotting up as she finds a parking space. As we go inside, the custody sergeant looks up from behind a desk.
‘I’m Jess Reid. You have my mother here – Amy Reid. I want to see her.’
He nods towards a few chairs set in a corner by a window. ‘Can you take a seat over there?’
As Cath and I do as he says, she looks at me anxiously. ‘You OK, Jess?’
‘Yes.’ There’s no point in saying I’m anything else. But how can I be, when I’m here instead of in Falmouth, with my mother being held on suspicion of committing a crime. It’s nothing other than a living nightmare.
Only a few minutes pass before a policewoman walks over to us. Instantly, I recognise her. ‘Hello, Jess. I’m PC Page. We spoke before, at your house.’ Questioningly, she turns to Cath.
‘I’m Cath Bowers. We spoke on the phone.’
A flicker of recognition crosses the policewoman’s face. ‘Yes, of course.’ She turns back to me. ‘Before you talk to your mother, do you think you and I could have a chat?’ She glances around as if looking for somewhere.
Not sure I have a choice, I shrug. ‘OK.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Beside me, Cath sounds uncertain.
I shake my head. ‘I’ll be OK.’
‘Right. Shall we find somewhere quieter?’ As PC Page starts to walk along a corridor, I follow behind, then she shows me into a small room, with white painted walls and a small window. ‘We shouldn’t get disturbed in here. Have a seat, Jess.’
The plastic chairs remind me of uni classrooms. Pulling one out across a table, I sit down opposite her. After organising the papers she’s holding, she gets out a pen, then looks at me. ‘I know we talked before, just after Mr Roche disappeared, but I wanted to ask you more about his relationship with your mother. Can you describe how they were together? From the beginning?’
I try to cast my mind back to a time when my views were untainted, to when Matt was new in our lives. When my mother was the same as she’d always been – before I’d noticed things change. ‘They seemed happy together, to start with. He used to pick her up and take her out for dinner. But after he moved in, I missed quite a lot of what went on because I started uni. She never said anything to me, but when I came back that first Christmas, things seemed different.’
‘In what way?’
I try to work out how best to explain it. ‘Her excitement had definitely gone. It was like they’d skipped a couple of decades and had turned into a middle-aged couple who sniped at each other. Except …’
‘Go on,’ she says quietly.
‘It was always Matt who did the sniping, like she irritated him. It was like he looked for reasons to criticise her. It didn’t make sense, because they were still planning to get married. My mother almost seemed blind to it. She was convinced he loved her. She was always saying love was about compromise.’ I pause, knowing I should have seen how bad things had got, how warped her perception had become.
‘This is difficult to ask …’ PC Page hesitates. ‘Your mother seems fragile. In the circumstances, it’s understandable – the events since his disappearance have clearly caused her immense distress, let alone anything else. I didn’t know if she’d had problems in the past?’
I hesitate, not wanting to say the wrong thing. ‘I know she suffered from depression – a long time ago. But she did tell me she’d recently been seeing her therapist again.’
PC Page’s pen hovers above her notebook. ‘Do you happen to know her name?’
‘Sonia.’ I stare at her as she starts writing it down. ‘Sonia Richardson.’ Adding more urgently, ‘Will you talk to her? She’ll be able to vouch for the kind of person Mum really is.’
For a moment, PC Page doesn’t reply. ‘Was it depression that led your mother to start seeing her the first time?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not sure. It was when I was quite a bit younger. It may have been, but Sonia would be able to tell you. I think it was after my dad left her.’ I watch as she makes another note.
A frown appears on her face. ‘There’s another thing I wanted to ask you about your mother, because I’m not sure Mr Roche hasn’t been playing mind games with her.’
‘That’s exactly what he does,’ I say angrily, feeling my hands curl into fists, relieved she understands. ‘We’ve been studying psychopathic behaviour at uni. He ticks all the boxes. Matt definitely plays – or played with her head, I’m sure of it.’ An example comes back to me, which at the time, I hadn’t known what to make of. ‘It happened when they started planning their wedding. Mum had this dream of getting married on a beach and Matt had completely gone along with it – or at least, that was what she told me. She and I went dress shopping and bought the perfect dresses for a beach wedding – without shoes, because we were going to be barefoot … Mum had it all planned out. She was so excited, but when she told him, he convinced her they’d discussed it the night before and changed their minds. He couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.’ I shake my head. I hadn’t been able to work out if he was making it up or if she really had forgotten. ‘She was sure she’d provisionally booked it. She said they’d confirmed over email, but when she went to check, the emails weren’t there.’
‘It hardly seems likely she’d have forgotten a conversation about their wedding.’ PC Page frowns. ‘The only other explanation is that he deliberately deceived her.’ She pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. ‘Actually, there’s a name for this sort of behaviour, where someone is consistently undermined until they reach a point where they question their own sanity.’
‘What is it?’ I ask her. ‘Because that describes exactly what he’s been doing to her.’
‘Gaslighting.’ She looks at me. ‘It looks as though Matt’s been gaslighting your mother.’ Sitting back, she speaks quietly. ‘It explains so much about how she’s behaved and what she’s said to us about him. It’s a form of emotional abuse. A constant wearing down as a means of control. Psychopaths are often very smooth operators. From what you’ve told me, it sounds as though Matt would have known exactly what he was doing to her.’
As she speaks, I feel myself shiver, thinking of the way Matt used to talk to my mother. It wasn’t just his words, but the way he used them – to manipulate. Like when I learned about Walker’s cycle of violence in one of my uni lectures. About the build-up, explosion, remorse, denial, that keep people caught in relationships they’ll never leave. The way love breaks down, becoming abuse, leading to unimaginable consequences. My eyes stare into hers. ‘I’m sure he knew what he was doing. Sometimes, it was like he wanted me to share the joke, behind her back. Except there was no joke.’
‘For whatever reason, it seems you managed to see through him when your mother couldn’t.’ PC Page shakes her head.
Mystified, I nod. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why he was doing it.’
PC Page shrugs. ‘It can be unconscious. A defence strategy, to prevent emotional intimacy. But given what we know about Matt, I’d say he was up to something.’
‘I think it was deliberate. There’s more
you may not know,’ I tell her quickly. ‘I’ve been looking at his Facebook profile. To start with, I thought he was targeting women who had money. I’ve been reading about men who do that kind of thing. Anyway, right from the start, he’s tried to persuade my mother to sell her house and she really doesn’t want to. It’s caused so many rows between them. Sometimes, he wouldn’t speak to her for days. But he never gave up.’
PC Page looks confused. ‘Do you know why she was so determined to hang on to it?’
‘It was her home.’ I shrug. ‘It’s taken years to get the garden the way she needs it – for work. I think Matt wanted to get his hands on her money. I’ve been studying his Facebook friends and the way they’re connected. I’m fairly sure that for some time before they were together, he was building a network, making it easy for them to meet.’
PC Page frowns again. ‘That sounds incredibly contrived. Can you prove anything?’
It does sound unlikely, unless you’ve seen what I’ve seen. ‘I can show you what I’ve found, but that’s the trouble.’ I fold my arms. ‘I’m still looking, but so far, other than money, I can’t find any other reason.’
PC Page looks thoughtful. ‘Where are you going when you leave here?’
‘Home. Cath said she’d stay tonight.’
PC Page shakes her head. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to go back to the house. It’s been taped off. Sorry, Jess, but it’s a potential crime scene.’
It’s a blow I hadn’t been expecting. ‘Where do I go?’ I look at her helplessly. It was the thought of home that kept me going as we were driving here. I don’t have anywhere else.
‘Maybe Cath will know somewhere you can stay. I’ll come with you and explain to her.’ She pauses. ‘Jess, can we talk again tomorrow? I’d be interested to see what it is you’ve found on Facebook.’
‘OK.’ I hesitate, then blurt it out, the only question that really matters. ‘When are you letting her go? My mother? She hasn’t done anything.’
‘I’m sorry, but right now, I don’t have the answer to that. It depends on all kinds of things.’
But I need to know how they can go on holding her. ‘You must think you have evidence. You need to tell me what it is.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss any more with you.’ She sounds brusque suddenly. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Come on. I’ll walk with you back to Cath, then we’ll find someone to take you to see your mother.’
*
After finding out about the house being taped off, Cath doesn’t seem surprised. ‘I had wondered. Don’t worry. I’ve a friend we can stay with, Jess. I’ll call her while you’re talking to your mum.’
‘OK, Jess?’ PC Page looks at me. When I nod, she adds, ‘I’ll find someone to take you to see her.’
A few minutes later, we’re approached by a uniformed officer who doesn’t look much older than I am. Then at last I get to talk to my mother. After following him through double doors, he leads me along a different corridor into another small room, where I wait a couple of minutes, until my mother comes in.
She looks grey, defeated, her eyes anxious. As I hug her, tears fill my eyes, a new determination gripping me to do whatever it takes to prove her innocence. ‘Mum … it will be OK. I know you haven’t done anything. We’ll get you out of here.’ As we sit at the small table, seeing her eyes fill with tears, I lean forward, lowering my voice. ‘Matt was after something. I thought it was your house, so that he could sell it, but I’m not sure now. But I’ve told the police.’
As I mention the police, her expression changes to one of alarm. ‘No,’ she whispers. ‘I don’t want them to start digging around.’
‘It will be OK.’ I try to reassure her, wondering why she’s so agitated. ‘Try not to worry.’
Clearly upset, she bites her lip. ‘Is Cath with you?’
I nod. ‘She’s waiting outside. Mum, I’m just trying to think why anyone would want to hurt you – or Matt. Is there anything you can think of that’s happened? Anything at all?’ I pause. ‘There has to be someone from his past – or maybe this other woman? It could be, couldn’t it? If she was jealous enough?’
For a moment I think she’s going to say something, but then what little colour her face has drains away, leaving her swamped with an air of hopelessness. Resting her hand on my arm, she shakes her head. ‘You shouldn’t have come here, Jess. I can’t bear you seeing me like this. You should go and find Cath.’
As she speaks, instinct tells me she’s hiding something. Then a terrifying thought occurs to me, that maybe she knows what happened to Matt. But before I can protest, she gets up and walks over to the officer at the back of the room, waiting for him to open the door and close it behind her, leaving me alone.
Amy
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seeing Jess leaves me stricken with pain and heartache, hating that she’s been dragged into a place where common criminals are held. She should be carefree, living her own life at uni, studying the subject she’s passionate about, being with her friends. She belongs outside, by the sea, the wind in her hair, her lungs filled with salty air.
My heart bursts to see her, the same heart that breaks when she goes. It’s me who asks to go back to my cell, imagining Jess leaving with Cath. Grateful that she has someone supportive rather than her father, who wouldn’t be able to give her what she needs.
Back in my cell, the long night stretches ahead of me. It offers too much time, mentally allowing me to go over all that’s happened since Matt and I met. My initial reticence, before he won me over. It seems impossible to think he was the same person who’d reminded me how good it was to enjoy life, to have fun. To feel attractive again.
When he moved in, he seemed so different. I’d looked forward to there being someone with whom to share day to day life, especially with Jess about to go away. But it hadn’t taken long before I’d seen another side to him. The first time he lost his temper, I’d been taken aback by the force of it. Profuse apologies had followed. Warily, I’d listened, believing him when he told me what a strain he’d been under, prepared to forgive and forget almost anything. But from that point on, it seemed that more and more of what I did was wrong in his eyes, his outbursts perfectly timed so that Jess never got wind of them. There had been another scene – most likely the one Lara referred to, a week before he disappeared. Ratcheting things up to another level, he hit me.
The blow to my stomach had knocked the breath out of me, leaving me slumped on the floor, doubled up in pain as I waited for the next. I’d wanted to tell PC Page, back at the beginning. But fear prevented me. Fear of what Matt might do, if he came back and discovered I’d told them. My bruises were hidden. I was afraid of the police, too. What if they didn’t believe me? Or saw it as a motive, twisting the truth to use against me?
A month before he disappeared, there was another day that stands out for all the wrong reasons. The day everything moved to another level. Matt had come home from work, earlier than usual. After closing the front door, instead of coming to find me in the kitchen, he went straight upstairs. Almost immediately, I could hear drawers being opened and closed, the pad of his feet as he went through to the spare room; the sound of wardrobe doors being opened and closed. I remember my skin prickling with goosebumps. Then silence.
Tiptoeing to the bottom of the stairs, I’d called up. ‘Matt? Honey, are you OK?’ When he didn’t reply, a feeling came over me that I couldn’t describe. I tried again. ‘Matt. Are you there?’ The bottom two stairs creaked as I started to make my way up, then at the top, Matt appeared from one of the bedrooms.
‘Amy. I assumed you were in the workshop. I came home early. I wasn’t feeling well.’ His annoyance obvious, his eyes didn’t meet mine.
‘Are you OK? Can I get you anything?’ As I carried on up the stairs, he stepped forward.
‘I’m fine. I’m coming down in a minute.’ His voice sharp, his behaviour was strange, too, with no explanation as to why he was going through drawers and cupboards.
‘I just want to make sure you’re alright.’
As he spoke through gritted teeth, I shrank back. ‘Amy, get the fuck away from me. I want some quiet. Leave me, OK?’
Not wanting to upset him further, I did as he asked. But there was something about the expression on his face. As he headed back towards our bedroom, I hurried up the rest of the stairs, but before I could get there, he spun around and stood in the doorway, blocking it.
‘What’s going on?’ My heart was fluttering, my stomach twisting as I took in the look in his eyes. Then I glanced past him, at the piles of clothes on our bed, feeling the blood drain from my face. ‘What are you doing, Matt?’
For a moment, he didn’t speak. ‘I’m looking for something.’ His voice was icy. ‘A jumper. Now for Christ’s sake, leave me in peace.’
‘Which one? Maybe I can help.’ I was trying to sound calm when inside I was anything but, desperate to know what he was hiding from me.
This time he shouted. ‘You can help by leaving me to get on with this. Fucking hell, Amy. Just go downstairs.’
Numb, I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’ A frantic whisper, my plea for this to be anything other than what it looked like. ‘What were you doing in the spare room?’ Turning, I started to walk towards it, when I felt Matt painfully wrench my arm, pulling me away. But not before I’d seen an open suitcase piled with clothes.
*
By the time I’m next interviewed by the police, I’ve decided to tell them about that episode. As I’m escorted back to the interview room, I’ve rehearsed in my head what I want to say. When PC Page and DI Lacey come in, before either of them speaks, I take a deep breath. ‘There’s something I should tell you about.’ Seeing both of them looking at me intently, I go on, as they start the tape. ‘I should have mentioned it before, but Matt didn’t always treat me well.’ My voice shakes slightly. ‘I wasn’t intentionally hiding anything, it’s more that it didn’t seem relevant. I suppose I wanted so badly to believe everything was OK between us. I didn’t want to admit that anything was wrong. Once you do, even to yourself, you have to do something about it. And I didn’t feel strong enough to face that.’
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 16