But seeing the house again stirred up memories of that day, twenty-three years ago, as I remember the teenager who died. The elderly woman who took the blame, a woman who was innocent. Amy and I knew that, just as Amy and I know the truth. But it’s a truth that will remain hidden, like the vow we made, forever binding us, in silence.
Blood sisters.
Suddenly irritated, recklessness gripped me. Picking up my phone, I dialled the number I’d found online for Amy’s business. Waiting as it rang, imagining what her reaction would be, irritated with the way she’d clung on to Matt, wanting to shake her up. At last, she picked up and I had my chance.
‘Hello, Amy.’
There was more to say, but it was all I managed to get out before she hung up, then immediately blocked me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The first time PC Page calls and asks me to come in to the station, it’s only days since Matt’s gone missing. I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, as we arrange a time that’s supposedly mutually convenient; knowing I have no choice. But after the call ends, the pressure is palpable. Presumably it’s to do with Matt, but I’ve no way of knowing what Amy’s said to them. If she’s said too much, who knows what conclusions the police may have jumped to.
It’s early afternoon when I drive along the seafront towards the police station. The sea swell is a surging grey-blue, the sky scattered with white clouds. When I park and get out, I pull my jacket around me against the wind, before heading inside. A young officer leads me along a typically bland corridor with white walls and a brown carpet, until he stops outside a cracked-open door. As he knocks, inside, from behind an untidy desk, PC Page looks up.
‘Please come in, Ms Rose. Take a seat.’
As I walk in, I take off my jacket, slinging it over the back of the chair, wondering why a phone call wouldn’t do and why it’s so important for me to come here.
‘DI Lacey’s joining us. He won’t keep us long.’
Alarm flickers through me. I haven’t been brought in for official questioning as such, so why the two of them? My disquiet obviously shows.
It’s as if she reads my mind. ‘It’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s just at this stage, it’s helpful if we both hear what you have to say.’
‘Sure.’ My hands are clammy as I sit there, grateful for a few moments to compose my thoughts, telling myself Amy wouldn’t have been rash enough to bring up the past. Like me, she has too much at stake. Trying to distract myself, I look around. It’s a typical nondescript office; impersonal, untidy, unlike mine – with its elegant proportions, tall windows, and polished mahogany desk. Then the door opens and an older man walks in, with greying hair and pale skin.
‘Sir.’ PC Page looks at me. ‘This is Fiona Rose.’
He nods towards me. ‘Detective Inspector Lacey. Thank you for coming in. Has PC Page told you what this is about?’
‘No.’ I try to sound cool, confident, unfazed, wondering how long it’ll take them to find out what’s happened to Matt.
He pulls up another chair. ‘We’d like to hear more about what Mr Roche told you, about his fiancée, Amy Reid. I take it you’ve never met?’
The question takes me by surprise, the lie out before I can stop it. ‘No. Of course, I’ve thought about trying to talk to her. When Matt first told her about me, he didn’t tell her who I was. But that night he disappeared, maybe he did tell her. I’ve no way of knowing.’
PC Page frowns at me. ‘She hasn’t said anything to us about you.’
DI Lacey’s face is unreadable. ‘As a divorce lawyer, I’m sure it must happen all the time that you’re presented with two conflicting stories. On the one hand, the devoted fiancée, the wedding a fortnight away, the picture she paints of a loving partner – most of the time, that is …’ Pausing, he and PC Page exchange glances. ‘Then on the other, there’s yours.’ He frowns. ‘Tell me. Apart from the fact that you’re a partner with Hollis and James, a highly reputable firm who speak extremely favourably of you, why should your story be any more plausible?’
I stare at him, surprised that already, he’s checked me out. Surely the facts speak for themselves – wasn’t that the whole point? I certainly wasn’t expecting to be challenged. ‘I’ve told you the truth. Matt spoke to me at length about Amy’s problems – her mood swings, her instability. I’m not sure what else I can add.’
‘Ms Rose isn’t the only person with accounts of Ms Reid’s disturbed behaviour. Here.’ As PC Page passes him what looks like a couple of witness statements, my ears prick up.
He shakes his head. ‘But what we don’t have is first-hand evidence. We need to check her GP records, find out if there were any referrals for mental health problems.’ Pausing, the DI turns back to me. ‘Going back, were you aware that Mr Roche wanted Ms Reid to go into a private hospital?’
It’s the first I’ve heard of it, but doesn’t surprise me. ‘From what he said, it seemed obvious enough she needed help, but he didn’t mention anything about a hospital.’
‘Apparently he packed her case for her, then drove her there.’
I look at him. ‘I honestly had no idea. Maybe it was before we met.’
‘It’s quite an extreme act,’ the DI remarks. ‘If he confided in you the way you’ve described, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about that.’ He pauses. ‘Tell me again. You last saw Mr Roche the night he disappeared?’
I nod. ‘He came to my flat. I think you have CCTV footage of where he went that evening.’ I glance at PC Page, relieved when she nods. ‘It was late when he left me. He’d had a few drinks, so instead of driving, he called a taxi.’
‘So apart from the taxi driver, that makes you the last person to see him.’
I’m frowning as I remember something I haven’t thought of, until now. ‘I saw him go outside and close the front door behind him. I didn’t actually see him get in the taxi.’
The DI sits back in his chair. ‘So if you and Ms Reid are both to be believed, somewhere between leaving your flat and arriving back home, he disappeared.’
After a brief silence, PC Page takes a deep breath. ‘The day after Mr Roche disappeared, someone left a bouquet of flowers on Amy’s doorstep. Red roses and white lilies. As you may well know, the two colours together symbolise blood and tears. Anyway,’ she pauses. ‘Amy took them into her kitchen, where she discovered that instead of water, their stems were encased in a bag of blood.’
As I gasp in shock, both of them stare at me. Then as she goes on, her eyes hold mine. ‘We had a sample of it analysed. It was human blood – the same type as Mr Roche’s.’
‘God.’ I’m silent, thinking quickly. I’ve had clients stoop to the lowest of low acts, especially where matters of the heart are concerned, but even so, I’m shocked. Then I look at them. ‘You surely can’t think I had anything to do with this? I don’t even know what Matt’s blood type is.’
‘Apparently, neither did Ms Reid.’ DI Lacey’s voice is quiet. ‘Clearly someone wanted to upset her. They succeeded.’ He goes on. ‘Ms Rose, what can you tell us about the other people in Mr Roche’s life?’
I shrug. ‘Not much. He talked about his boss, David Avery – and one or two people he worked with. But I never had a chance to meet his friends. Even at its best, ours was a difficult relationship.’
‘I can imagine.’ DI Lacey’s voice is dry. ‘How did you cope with that?’
‘It wasn’t ideal. But I had a choice. Be patient and wait. If not, I could leave.’
‘Did your patience ever wear thin, Ms Rose?’ The DI’s face seems to loom closer.
I know where he’s going with this. Having seen his type in action, I’m not about to be intimidated by him. ‘Of course it did. We broke up for a while. But since we got back together, no.’ I speak coolly. ‘I trusted him. He gave me absolutely no reason not to.’
Glancing at PC Page, DI Lacey sits back in his chair. ‘Until now.’
Reluctantly, I nod. This time, I can’t argue with him.
He doesn’t comment. Shortly after, the interview ends and I’m free to leave. But as I walk away, I feel soiled, by the stale air in the office, by their air of suspicion. A stark reminder of how not being believed feels, it’s one I could do without.
I don’t go straight back to the office. Instead, I walk to the seafront, where an easterly breeze has picked up. As it chills my skin, I watch a couple of surfers catching waves, the spray briefly breaking the green water, feeling my mind start to calm. Casting off my sense of uncertainty, I have to believe the police will find Matt. That justice will be done and everyone will know I’m completely innocent.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With the knowledge that she’s being held in custody now, my obsession with Amy’s behaviour grows, knowing she’ll be playing a game, pretending she’s vulnerable, a victim, when she’s anything but. A scenario I can’t allow to get to me.
It’s taken years to build my life, reach where I am in my career. Achievements I can’t let anything threaten, not even Matt’s disappearance. Whatever happens from here on, I have to be ready, have my own game plan. But then I take a call that completely throws me.
As I drive, I’m irritated that yet again, I have no choice, cursing the traffic, thinking about the meetings I’ve had to cancel this morning at short notice. I plan my days at work carefully, prepare methodically. Disruptions have consequences, which is why it annoyed me when PC Page called again, most insistent that I went over there straight away.
It’s a beautiful morning – the faintest hint of warmth in the winter sun. At the police station, I park outside, hesitating as I gather my thoughts. When I go in, I wait only a few minutes before PC Page appears.
‘Good morning, Ms Rose. Would you come with me?’ Her brusque, matter of fact, manner disconcerts me.
But there’s no way I’m letting her see that. ‘Sure.’ I walk with her up the same corridor as last time. ‘Can I ask what this is about?’
‘I’d like to wait till the DI gets here.’ She glances at her watch. ‘He won’t be long.’
The DI? Again? This time, alarm bells start sounding in my head. Then I’m annoyed. ‘I’ve cancelled meetings to come here at such short notice. I hope this isn’t going to take too long?’
She doesn’t reply, as instead of her office, she opens a door into an interview room with a small table and plastic chairs. ‘Have a seat. I’ll just get rid of this.’ Picking up an empty cup carelessly left behind, she takes it outside.
Pulling out one of the chairs, I sit down, before running through the well-rehearsed mantra in my head. You are confident. You have done nothing wrong. You’ve got this.
The door opens again and PC Page comes back in, with DI Lacey just behind her.
‘Good morning, Ms Rose.’ He nods briefly, before sitting down opposite me. ‘Thank you for coming in. We’ve received some new information I’m hoping you can shed some light on.’
I hold his gaze. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Not expecting our conversation to be recorded, when she starts the tape and records the official preamble, I’m taken aback. As PC Page sits next to the DI, she puts down the papers she’s holding. ‘We’ve received an anonymous letter. Normally, they’re a complete waste of police time, but this one is potentially rather interesting. It refers to the death of a teenage girl that happened twenty-three years ago. It was described as a tragic accident. The writer of the letter suggests that the truth has intentionally been hidden, then goes on to name you, specifically, as someone who might know what actually happened. As well as your name, they’ve given us your address. It doesn’t say much more than that, other than the address where the accident took place and the date.’
As she speaks, my blood runs cold, a rushing sound filling my ears. It’s as if I’ve been transported back to that house, the garden; a summer that lasted forever until it was abruptly cut short. As PC Page goes on, I try to concentrate. ‘It’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? That you knew the house Amy shared with Mr Roche?’
Poised, I wait for their questions, already knowing I have to watch each word, every nuance; how imperative it is that they believe me.
The DI frowns. ‘So you’ll know the woman who owned the house was a Ruth Preston?’
I pause for a moment. It would be so much easier to tell them that it’s Amy they should be talking to, but it could just as easily work against me. I have to take this step by step, so that the police can work it out for themselves. ‘It belonged to the grandmother of a friend of mine. I only knew her as Gran.’ Then because he’s going to ask, I add, ‘My friend’s name was Emily Preston – so in answer to your question, I guess the answer is yes.’
He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘And it was her sister, Kimberley Preston, who died?’
I nod calmly. ‘That’s correct.’ But my brain is racing. ‘Why would someone send a letter like this now?’
The DI doesn’t answer. ‘Can you tell me what happened that day?’
Sitting up straighter, I try to wrestle back some control. ‘Should I be asking for a lawyer?’
‘I’m sure that’s not necessary.’ The DI leans back in his chair. ‘How old were you when it happened?’
‘I was fifteen. It was terrible.’ My voice lowers. ‘Kimberley was older – seventeen, I think. She didn’t really hang out with us – she had her own set of friends. We all loved being at Kimberley and Emily’s gran’s house. She let us run wild. The garden was a wilderness and the lane led straight onto the Downs. We used to go off on our own for hours.’ I break off for a moment, thinking back. ‘Their gran used to make home remedies from the plants she grew. Now and then, we’d sneak in and try them. That’s what Kimberley did, but unfortunately she consumed something poisonous. It hit her really fast. One minute she was running outside, the next, she was hit by a van.’ An image comes back to me, of Kimberley unsteady on her feet, her eyes huge, her pupils dilated as she lurched into the road, before collapsing as the van hit her.
‘There is one thing.’ The DI looks puzzled. ‘We looked the case up. Records mention Kimberley and her sister, Emily, and a third teenager called Alison Macklin. There’s no mention of a Fiona Rose.’
‘That’s because I changed my name, Detective Inspector.’ I regard him coolly. ‘You can hardly blame me. I didn’t want to forever be linked to what happened to Kimberley. Fiona’s my second name. Rose came from my ex-husband.’
‘I see.’ While PC Page makes notes, the DI looks unfazed. ‘It really was rather tragic, wasn’t it? An accident, though the grandmother took responsibility. It’s noted that she said her remedies had only ever been created for beneficial use, never for harm.’ He studies me closely. ‘You say you tried some of them? You and your friend?’
I shrug. ‘Once or twice. They didn’t have much effect, to be honest.’
He frowns. ‘Unlike Kimberley’s death. That must have had quite an impact on both of you – especially your friend, losing her sister like that.’
‘Yes.’ I’m rigid, trying not to show my irritation, because it was what everyone had said. Poor Emily. No-one thought about me. Nor did they care what happened to me, after.
DI Lacey looks thoughtful. ‘Is the grandmother still alive?’
PC Page shakes her head. ‘I don’t imagine so. Ms Reid told us she moved there after the old woman who’d lived there for years died. We’re trying to get hold of records of ownership of the house, but for some reason, there’s been a hold up.’ She pauses. ‘Odd isn’t it.’ She looks straight at me. ‘Like you said – why would someone send a letter like that after all this time?’
‘Really odd.’ I stare at the table. ‘That family went through so much when Kimberley died. After all this time, it’s hard to imagine why someone would want to stir it up.’
The DI frowns. ‘This line, about how the truth has been hidden, but that you were the person who knows what really went on … Do you have any idea what they’re getting at?’
I look up at him. ‘Ot
her than the grandmother shouldn’t have felt responsible, not really.’
His frown deepens. ‘Wasn’t she responsible, though? If she stored potentially harmful substances somewhere teenagers could easily access them?’
I look at them both. ‘She kept them in a locked part of the garden, behind a stone wall. It wasn’t that easy to get into. You had to want to.’ Realising it sounds as though I’m defending her, I add, ‘But maybe you’re right.’
When neither of them speaks, I stand up. ‘Will that be all? I have another meeting I really can’t miss.’ I hold my breath, waiting for them to tell me that’s all for now, that if there’s anything else they’d be in touch.
But he holds my gaze a little too long, speaks a little too lightly. ‘Ms Rose. Sit down, please. We’ve only just started. I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere.’
Chapter Thirty
For a moment, I’m silent. Then I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. I really do have to go. I’m already behind with meetings. I can come back another time. I haven’t been arrested.’
‘If you’re determined to leave, you’ll give us no choice.’ PC Page is very calm, leaving me in no doubt she means it.
‘On what grounds? You don’t have anything, other than an anonymous letter clearly written by some kind of crackpot.’
‘I think you’ll find suspicion of perverting the course of justice would fit quite well.’ The DI breaks off, his eyes not leaving me, as he adds, ‘Would you kindly sit down?’
Uneasy, I do as he asks, my mind racing again as I try to think who might have sent the letter; wondering what’s coming next.
DI Lacey shuffles through the papers in front of him until he finds what he’s looking for. ‘At the post-mortem, there were traces of a number of things in Kimberley’s blood, most notably salvia, rose, calendula, none of which are dangerous, but there were also hemlock and digitalis. She suffered respiratory collapse caused by the hemlock, but even without that, the levels of digitalis would have affected her heart, eventually causing cardiac arrest. That’s some cocktail to take by accident.’
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 18