For Your Own Protection(27)
‘Mariana.’
‘Is it true Catherine has moved out?’
‘Apparently. Didn’t she tell you?’
‘No.’ She looked a little hurt. ‘She didn’t say a thing.’ Her brow knotted as realisation dawned. ‘Not even to you?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh,’ she said, looking down at the book, which dangled limply from her hand. ‘I was hoping you could give her this back.’ She passed him the Agatha Christie novel.
‘It’s mine,’ Matt said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, good. Well, there you are.’ Her smile was dazzling. ‘I really enjoyed it.’
‘So you didn’t see her leave?’
‘Unfortunately not. I came home from town an hour ago and spoke to the cleaner.’
Why the secrecy and urgency?
‘Did Catherine ever have male visitors?’ Matt felt awful asking the question, both for putting Mariana on the spot and for doubting Catherine again, but he needed to know.
‘Not that I saw. Only you.’
Matt nodded to himself.
‘I hope things work out with you both,’ Mariana said, interpreting Matt’s surprise at Catherine’s disappearing act as symptomatic of a relationship breakdown. She smiled sympathetically. ‘If I see Catherine, I’ll tell her you were looking for her.’
‘Thank you. But I don’t think she’ll be back.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rachel gasped for breath as her eyes opened. She turned over, expecting to see intruders, but there was no one. She was alone in her bedroom. A glance over at her bedside radio told her it was just gone ten o’clock in the morning. Her body was drenched with sweat, although the temperature of the room felt cool on her skin. She thought back to the previous day.
What a nightmare.
Rachel brushed her hair and went to the bathroom to shower.
She’d just dressed when the landline, located in the living room, began to ring. The bell had never seemed so sinister.
‘Hello?’
Just silence. But someone was on the other end of the line.
‘Hello?’
The break-in.
Driven by fear, she slammed the phone down on to its holder.
The phone rang again.
Rachel just glared at it, willing it to stop.
And then that horrifying thought returned.
What if they hadn’t found what they were looking for?
Rachel swiped her keys from the kitchen table and hurried back through to the living room. She paused only to grab the police contact card off the arm of the sofa, stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. She burst out of the front door, fumbling with the lock, and sprinted down the stairs and off down the road, in the direction of the high street.
Something had stopped her from calling the number on the police contact card. Instead, she called Michael.
But he didn’t pick up.
She tried again, but still without luck. In desperation, she called through to his office, but the receptionist came back with the news that he’d called in sick.
It was like he’d just dropped off the planet.
But why?
Rachel headed for the bookshop, and the only person this side of the Atlantic with whom she felt safe – Jim. She’d tell him everything, call the police, and wait in the shop with him for them to arrive.
As soon as Rachel turned the corner on to the high street, she saw the ambulance and police car parked right in front of the shop.
She froze, and was suddenly jolted from behind as a man collided with her before offering his apologies and hurrying on his way. Rachel hardly noticed, staring in horror as two green-clad paramedics unloaded an empty stretcher from the back of the ambulance. A group of onlookers had positioned themselves just outside the shop door. Rachel brought a hand up to her mouth, as if that would keep the emotion in. She went to move forward, but found that her body resisted. Instead, it was begging her to do the opposite: to turn and run.
Is this all connected?
She gasped as the paramedics brought someone out through the door of the shop on the stretcher. She couldn’t see from this distance what state the person was in.
Was it Jim?
The memories from Alex’s funeral came crashing back, just as her mobile shrilled. She brought it to her ear with a shaking hand.
‘Hello?’
No answer.
The line went dead. She stumbled backwards, her head spinning, and met a brick wall, which slammed into the back of her head. She grabbed on to the wall to steady herself. The world was spinning dangerously out of control. And she had to get away.
‘You okay?’
A concerned passer-by reached out with a hand. Rachel couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman; she couldn’t focus through the tears and the shock. She shook her head but found she was pushing the arm away, rejecting the assistance. Who was this person? Were they really here to help? Rachel took one last look at the ambulance as it drove away.
No sirens blaring or lights flashing.
Is that significant?
‘I think this lady is unwell,’ Rachel heard a distant voice say.
She staggered forward, pushing past several bodies, none of whom resisted. Suddenly her vision cleared slightly, but significantly, and she could once again see the world around her. She didn’t look back at the crowd, or at those trying to help her, or at the bookshop.