‘I messaged Mandy but I haven’t heard back from her. Do you have her phone number?’
‘I think so.’ Sounding cautious, she breaks off. ‘Don’t you think this is best left to the police, Jess?’
‘Maybe. But it wouldn’t do any harm, would it? If I gave Mandy a call?’
*
With still no response to my Facebook message, when I try Mandy’s mobile number, it goes to voicemail. But even talking to Sasha’s mum seems to confirm my suspicions. If I’m right, going on the pattern I’ve observed, Matt would already have been planning his next move.
If the other woman who reported him missing to the police is to be believed, she was the woman he was going to leave my mother for. But in time, he’d have left the other woman, too. Maybe he’d already found the next woman to follow her. Maybe it’s her who’s set my mother up. Feverishly, I start going through the profiles of every woman he’s friends with, staring at their photos for a giveaway sign, that I’m right. But if he’s the master of deception he appears to be, he’d have made absolutely sure there were no clues.
My only hope is that somewhere along the line, he’s slipped up, leaving damning evidence. I just have to make sure I find it.
Amy
Chapter Thirty-Three
As time inside takes its toll on me, I grow more weary, increasingly dispirited, while my mind tortures me with thoughts of what will happen to Jess if I’m charged with murder. Losing track even of the day of the week, my only reminder is when PC Page starts the tape.
‘I have a question for you, Amy. When you bought your house, were you made aware that in 1996, a teenager died there?’
As I look at her, I feel my pulse start to race. ‘No.’ Shaking my head. Why are they asking about this now, of all times?
Their eyes are glued on me as she goes on. ‘Apparently it was a tragic accident. We received an anonymous letter from someone saying that when it happened, the truth was hushed up. The writer gave us the name of a Ms Fiona Rose and her address. Does the name mean anything to you?’
‘No.’ I frown, genuinely mystified. ‘I’ve never heard of her.’
‘The only reason I’m asking is that she couldn’t really help. So I wondered if you might be able to.’
Looking from one face to the other, I feel the walls close in. ‘Are you charging me? Because if you’re not, haven’t I been held long enough?’ Deliberately confrontational, but at this moment, I’ve nothing to lose.
When no-one speaks, DI Lacey leans back in his chair, watching me. ‘We’ve been trying to trace the family of the woman who owned the house before you. Her name was Ruth Preston. So far, we haven’t had any luck. Perhaps because of the tragic association, they would prefer not to have anything to do with it. We know she was the teenager’s grandmother and that apparently, she made herbal remedies – rather like you, it would seem. Apparently the teenager who died accidentally took something toxic. Either that, or someone intentionally gave it to her.’
There’s only one answer as I shake my head. ‘It really is the first I’ve heard of it.’
For a moment, I think that’s the end of it. But I should have known PC Page wouldn’t let it go. ‘It’s a coincidence, isn’t it? That you buy a house that belonged to a herbalist, then you train as one?’
Trying to hide the racing of my heart, I shrug. ‘The garden appealed to me. You’ve seen what I grow there.’
She nods. ‘Maybe it explains why there’s such a clear story in the plant meanings. Deceit, pain, distrust, grief. Remembrance … It’s a memorial garden.’ She pauses, her eyes boring into me. ‘I think you inherited a memorial to the dead teenager. There’s jealousy there, too.’ Her eyes narrow slightly. ‘Why would that be, I wonder? Was someone jealous of her?’
I try to appeal to their common sense. ‘I’ve no idea. Isn’t it possible they were all planted because the old lady liked them? It might not have been anything more than that.’
She’s silent for a moment. ‘There are so many stories in your home, Amy. A lot of earth that’s been newly dug, the rose garden you haven’t planted yet. Did Matt help you dig his own grave?’ Without waiting for me to speak, she turns towards DI Lacey. ‘We need to get a team over there. That new bed. When I was there this morning, it hadn’t been touched.’
‘Please don’t.’ My voice is mildly hysterical at the thought of the garden I love being trashed more than it already has been. ‘You won’t find anything. You’re wasting your time, I promise you.’
As the DI nods towards her, he gathers his papers together. ‘Let’s leave it there, shall we? We need to check this out.’
‘But I can’t stay another night. Haven’t you held me long enough?’ My voice rises with each word, even though I know it’s futile.
‘For a serious crime, we can hold you for up to ninety-six hours without bringing charges. That gives us until tomorrow morning.’
*
I doze briefly that night, waking in the early hours, my mind racing. In a few hours, I’ll know if the police are charging me or not. What might follow, I can’t bear to think about. So little has been said about this other woman in Matt’s life, it’s as though somehow she’s above suspicion. Yet she has the strongest motivation of anyone for framing me.
*
The following morning, as I wait to be led back to the interview room, I’m filled with trepidation, knowing I’ve been set up, by someone who wants me to suffer. By the time I hear footsteps coming towards my door, I’m dreading the worst.
Trying to maintain a semblance of composure, as I walk into the interview room, DI Lacey and PC Page are already there, talking in low voices. When they see me, they look up. ‘Good morning.’
Both of them watch me pull out a chair, trying to still the flutter of nerves. ‘Morning.’ I look at their faces, trying to read them, but as always, they give nothing away. ‘Can I say something?’
The DI looks at me. ‘Go on.’
‘I was thinking.’ Nerves mean my voice is husky. ‘I know I’ve been set up. The question is, by who?’ As I look from one to the other, their faces are blank. ‘It could easily have been the other woman. She has a strong motive. It could have been her who killed Matt, in a fit of jealousy that got out of control. She could have taken a knife from my kitchen – she would have had his key – then hidden it without me knowing. She could even have sent the flowers.’
‘It sounds a little far-fetched.’ DI Lacey clears his throat. ‘Where are her fingerprints? For your information, Mr Roche’s car has turned up – burned out next to some derelict farm buildings near Beachy Head. It could have been there for some time. You must have dumped the body before setting fire to it, Ms Reid. The chassis number was found, and the vehicle traced to Mr Roche, but it seems it was registered to his old address, so even though it was in our system, it’s only recently been connected to this case. We haven’t found his body yet. It would seem it’s only a matter of time – and the tides – before we do. There was something in the car.’ As he pushes a plastic bag towards me, with horror, I recognise the bracelet sealed inside. ‘Yours?’ He pauses for a moment, studying my face. ‘I take it that’s a yes?’
Slowly I shake my head. ‘It could have come undone at any time. The fact that it was in Matt’s car doesn’t prove anything.’
He doesn’t comment. ‘Ms Reid, as you are aware, we’ve been back to your house – more specifically to the area of your garden you’ve recently dug up.’
I wait with bated breath for him to tell me that they’ve found nothing, which means I’m free to leave here, but what he says next mystifies me.
‘Despite your conviction that there was nothing to find, we did find something. A hardback book.’
Until now, I haven’t noticed there’s another bag on the end of the table. As he opens it, then slides out my notebook, I’m confused. ‘That doesn’t make sense. It’s only a collection of garden ideas – a kind of scrapbook. Why would someone have buried it?’
He frowns. ‘Oh, it’s some scrapbook alright. We’ve had a close look – there’s more than at first meets the eye. What was it? Did you cast one of your spells as you buried your secrets, hoping no-one would ever find them?’
A chill runs through me. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Where to start …’ Pausing, the DI opens it, then turns the first couple of pages. ‘The first item of note here is a list of plants – or perhaps I should say herbs – and their effects on the human brain, ranging from nervousness and tremors, to suppression of the nervous system, then to respiratory and cardiac arrest. Quite a comprehensive list it is, too. It mentions hemlock, digitalis, deadly nightshade …’
Nausea rises in me. ‘Someone’s added it. I’m a herbalist. I abide by a healer’s code. I’ve only ever used remedies for good.’ I look at him, willing him to believe me, knowing how futile it is to convince him he’s wrong when he’s so sure he isn’t. ‘Where was this list?’
‘Hidden behind a magazine cutting you’ve glued in – about rose gardens.’
Remembering the cutting, I frown. But my stomach is turning over. I glance at PC Page, then back at the DI. ‘The magazine cutting is mine, but I honestly didn’t put anything else there. You have to believe me. I don’t know who or why, but someone else has done this. Not me,’ I repeat, taking a shaky breath. ‘I want a new lawyer.’ I glance sideways at Andrew Nelson. ‘Someone who can actually help me.’
DI Lacey glances at PC Page. ‘It’s a bit late for that.’
Starting to panic, I raise my voice. ‘I have the right. I just need you to arrange it.’
‘That’s slightly ridiculous in the circumstances.’ The DI’s voice is dry. ‘For now, I’d like to get back to your book. There’s another cutting we found.’ He picks up a torn-out newspaper article that’s vaguely familiar. ‘It relates to the case of the teenage girl who was murdered at your house before you bought it. Her name was Kimberley Preston. But we’ve been doing our own research. It was her grandmother you bought your house from. Only you didn’t buy your house, did you, Ms Reid? She was your grandmother, too. She left you the house on the understanding that you would live there for the rest of your life. We have the records of ownership and we’ve contacted the solicitors who handled the transfer of the deeds. We know about the letter your grandmother left detailing exactly what happened to Kimberley Preston. It clearly states that if you didn’t fulfil her request, it would find its way to the police. You weren’t prepared to put it to the test, were you? Amy isn’t the name you were born with, is it Ms Reid? It was Emily.’
I stare at the table, blood rushing in my ears, unable to speak, as all the memories I’ve blocked out flood back. The long summer days in my grandmother’s garden, of friendship, heat, freedom. The day my sister died, her death causing ripples into so many lives. The stupid pact with Allie that meant we’d kept our silence. Suddenly I think of her phone call, how I blocked her number. It had been just before I was arrested. After all the years we haven’t seen each other, is it possible Allie is behind this?
‘Why have you lied, Ms Reid? What are you hiding?’ The pause is ominous. ‘We’ve found your friend. Allie Macklin.’ There’s another pause, in which my brain seems to become paralysed. ‘These days, known as Fiona Rose. I find it very hard to believe that when your pasts are so entwined, you honestly didn’t know about her and Mr Roche.’
‘What?’ I stare at him, utterly shocked.
The DI leans forward. When he speaks, his voice is disbelieving. ‘Surely you must have known that it was Ms Rose that Mr Roche was planning to leave you for?’
As he speaks, it’s as though I have no breath in my lungs. ‘I didn’t know.’ I stare at him, my heart racing. Imagining them together, an image fills my mind, expanding until I can’t think of anything else. ‘It can’t be her.’ It’s too far-fetched to believe it was her he was having an affair with – of all people. She must have known, all along.
The DI looks disbelieving. ‘Surely you’re not expecting us to believe that you didn’t know about Ms Rose or where she lived? She’s a lawyer, by the way – with a firm in Brighton. She was on her way home from work when she saw you.’
Dazed, I’m still reeling. So Allie – or Fiona – was the witness. As it sinks in she’s now a lawyer, I realise she’s given herself the credibility she always said she would. ‘You said the anonymous letter was addressed to her?’ Frantic, I seize the last chance to make them see reason. ‘It makes even more sense now. She would have known where we lived, wouldn’t she? Even as a teenager, she was selfish and reckless. Don’t you see how easy it would have been, for her to kill Matt and frame me?’ I’m pleading with them, desperate for them to see what to me is obvious. But they don’t know what Allie is like. How furious she was with me. How she’d say anything to anyone, just to get to me.
The DI doesn’t respond. ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand. It’s why you’ve lied about your house.’
Still stunned by the revelation that it was Allie Matt had been seeing, I shake my head. ‘But you didn’t ask about my house.’
‘You lied by omission, Ms Reid. You let us assume facts which weren’t correct. And the house is only part of it, as you know. Can we continue talking about the day your sister died? Ms Rose has already told us her version of events. We know something happened there, that until now, the two of you have kept secret. What was it?’
This is the moment I’ve dreaded. The moment I thought would never come, knowing that after the lies I’ve told, when I tell them the truth, they won’t believe me. ‘Kimberley drank a herbal remedy. Only it wasn’t one of my gran’s. Allie – Fiona – and I made it.’ As I pause, silence falls. ‘She was jealous of Kimberley. She had a crush on Kimberley’s boyfriend, Charlie. She wanted him for herself, it was as simple as that. When Allie got something into her head, she could be ruthless. One night, when she saw them together, something snapped inside her. The next day, she persuaded me that we could prepare a potion to make Kimberley fall out of love with Charlie.’
‘You went along with it?’ The DI sounds disbelieving.
I nod. ‘It was honestly intended to be innocuous. Kimberley was my sister. I would never have wished her any harm. Allie and I climbed into the walled corner of the garden where my gran worked. There was a door which she always kept locked, but part of the wall was crumbling – it had completely collapsed by the time I moved there. We found her notebook.’ In the small room, my voice seems to echo. ‘It listed what each plant symbolised. I don’t remember exactly what we used, but it was probably something like cyclamen, which means goodbye. Yellow rose for infidelity – Allie thought if Kimberley was unfaithful to him, Charlie would break up with her. Five-leaf clover for bad luck. Then …’ Remembering, I shake my head. ‘Allie added something from a bottle she found. I didn’t see her do it. I found out later, it was labelled darkness. She didn’t tell me until after Kimberley had drunk it – we’d poured the potion into her orange juice. We were always making potions – harmless ones, from lemon balm and mint or other such plants. Kimberley had no reason to believe this was any different. She went outside.’ I break off, struggling with my emotions. ‘That was when Allie told me what she’d done. I rushed after her. Kimberley was in front of the house. Her boyfriend had just turned up. She was already unsteady on her feet. Then she seemed to lose her balance …’ There’s anguish in my voice, the memory as clear as if it happened yesterday. ‘It was bad luck a delivery van was driving past. She was clearly disorientated. Somehow she lurched in front of the van. He hit her.’
The DI’s frown deepens. ‘You’re saying Ms Macklin did this? Without your knowledge?’
I nod. ‘I could never have done anything like that. I never wanted to hurt my sister. And I knew my gran’s philosophy, about the power of intention.’ I stare at him, imploring him to believe me. It’s like reliving a nightmare as I remember Allie’s recklessness, her obsessive jealousy. Her determination that she was going
to have Charlie, no matter what it took.
‘Did you tell anyone what Allie had done?’
‘No. After the ambulance arrived, Allie and I hid. She told me it was my fault too and we were in it together. Then she said we had to make a vow, to protect ourselves. We cut our fingers and held them together, so that our blood blended. It meant we had to keep our secret. From there on, we were blood sisters.’
‘And all this time, no-one knew?’ PC Page sounds incredulous.
‘My gran found the potion we’d made.’ I stare at my hands, clasped in front of me on the table. ‘Then she found the bottle labelled DARKNESS in one of Allie’s pockets. She didn’t tell the police what we’d done, but she spoke to our parents. She told them that we’d meant no harm, but the fact that it happened at all was her fault, because she should have been more careful about locking everything away. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. They were behind a locked door.’ I remember, because we hadn’t been able to open it.
‘What happened next?’
Oh God. My parents. I remember their shocked, stricken faces, their inconsolable grief as their lives were devastated. Kimberley’s death killed something in them, too. It’s a memory that haunts me to this day, as does guilt, because I should have seen what Allie was doing. Even now, it’s too painful to think about. ‘My parents were devastated. They never got over it. How could they have? As soon as I was old enough, I left home. My father died shortly after and my mother sold the house and moved away. We kept in touch, but then I found out she’d had a heart attack and died. That was when I changed my name to Amy, before I met Dominic. I was desperate to leave that part of my life behind.’ It’s a part of my life I’ve hidden from Jess, too, hating how I haven’t been honest with her.
‘But even after changing your name, your grandmother still knew where to find you.’
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 21