Silent Victim(56)

A shopping bag on each arm, I left the supermarket, thoughts of my husband filling my mind. His kind face, his soft smile. Talking to Alex had gone a long way to aiding my recovery. When we first met, he did not allow a day to pass without telling me how valued I was. He guided me into getting proper counselling, driving me there and picking me up. Slowly I began to recover and the strength of my self-destructive voices began to weaken. But now they were back, along with a man hell-bent on revenge. Something told me I was in for the fight of my life.





CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

ALEX





2017


It was a twenty-minute walk from my office in Colchester High Street to Emma’s shop on the outskirts of town. I had spent the whole time looking out for her, despite her texting to say she had gone shopping and would be taking the bus home in her own time. I had swiftly replied, texting that I would pick up Jamie on the way home. I didn’t tell her that I was finishing early for fear that she might ask for a lift. I could not bear to talk to her. Not yet. As the bell jangled over my head, Theresa met me at the shop door, turning the sign to Closed. ‘I got your text. Sorry about the short reply, I’ve been busy.’

‘Emma said you had a problem.’ I took in the tight, worried expression on her face. ‘Everything all right?’

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ she said, kicking off her heels.

‘I’m a five-hour car journey from all right,’ I said solemnly, following her as she padded through to the staffroom. I emitted a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t know where to start.’ The envelope containing the DNA results felt like it was going to burn a hole in my pocket. I knew I should be talking to Emma, but I was afraid of what I might say. My sadness had turned to anger and right now it felt like our confrontation could end up with me packing a bag and taking Jamie with me. I took a seat at the table in the kitchen room. ‘Sorry to bother you again so soon, I didn’t know who else to talk to.’

Standing on her toes, Theresa stretched above me to reach two glasses in the cupboard overhead. The smell of her perfume kissed my senses, a sweet and summery scent. I loosened my tie and opened the top button of my shirt. The room was sweltering, so different from our chilly bungalow.

‘You’re welcome here any time,’ Theresa said, pulling down a bottle of whisky from the shelf. She silenced my protests with a wave of her hand. ‘I know you’re driving, but one won’t do any harm.’ After topping up my whisky with water from the tap, she handed it to me.

‘I can’t,’ I said wearily, ‘but you go ahead.’

Ignoring my protests, she pushed the glass into my hand before taking a seat beside me. ‘Just one, you look like you need it. Best we don’t stay too long, eh? Emma’s not been herself today. We had an incident with a dress, and I found her talking to herself, virtually a puddle on the ground.’

I raised an eyebrow, trying to muster up some sympathy as Theresa recalled what had happened that day. Nothing surprised me any more. ‘Who do you think slashed it?’ I asked.

Theresa sighed, taking comfort in the contents of her glass. Given that she lived in a flat above the shop, she did not need to worry about driving home. ‘The thing is,’ she said, her lips narrowing, ‘the only person here this morning was Emma. Josh wasn’t working today. The scissors went missing this morning.’ She jerked her thumb back at the drawer behind her. ‘They’re kept in there. After Emma had left, I did a quick search of the shop, and I found them in her desk drawer on the shop floor.’ Silence fell as I absorbed her words.

‘You think whoever slashed the dress used the shop’s scissors to do it?’

Theresa nodded. ‘They hacked the material like they were in a hurry. I found some white satin fibres stuck between the scissor blades. We only really use them for removing tags. And what were they doing in her desk?’

‘You’ll have to ask her that, not me,’ I grunted, knocking back a mouthful of whisky. I was still numb from reading the DNA results; cut-up wedding dresses were the least of my worries.

‘Listen to me blabbering on. You said you needed to talk. What’s happened?’

My chin wobbled as I tried to speak and I was horrified to feel tears rising behind my eyes. I wished I could play the hard man, but the thought of my son not being mine produced pain like I’d never experienced. Soon I’d be picking him up, and I would be forced to confront the truth. My left hand dropped to my pocket, and I pulled the envelope out.

I felt a warm, comforting hand as Theresa rubbed my back. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘Read it for yourself,’ I said, relieved to be able to share my burden. I rubbed my eyes until I was satisfied they were dry. ‘God, I hadn’t realised just how stressful it’s been, keeping this all inside.’

Theresa’s eyes darted from left to right, her lips silently moving as she scanned the page.

‘Jesus!’ Theresa murmured. ‘You had a DNA test? I take it Emma doesn’t know?’

I shook my head. ‘And that’s the way it has to stay, at least until I figure out what to do. Luke is the father. He has to be.’

‘Are you sure? I remember she was looking into sperm donors around that time. How do you know it’s not someone else?’

‘There’s a lot more to it than that.’ I straightened in my chair as I regained my composure. ‘But you’ve got to promise me; you can’t let this go any further.’