Читать книгу The Escape: The gripping, twisty thriller from the #1 bestseller - C.L. Taylor, C.L. Taylor, C. L. Taylor - Страница 16

‘Where’s Daddy? Where’s Daddy, Mummy?’ Elise wanders from room to room, poking her head around the kitchen bar and peering into the downstairs toilet. She’s convinced that Max is playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek. Her face crumples as she completes her second circuit of the kitchen and she plonks herself down on the tiled floor.

‘He’ll be here soon, sweetheart. I’m sure he just got caught up at work.’

On Tuesday night I asked Max for some space. I was going to talk to him about a separation but he threw me when he mentioned moving to Chester. It broke my heart, the way he was smiling at me and the way that smile slowly faded to confusion. There was a time when his suggestion would have thrilled me but so much has changed over the last few years. We’ve both changed. I’m a needy basket-case. He’s a workaholic. I never would have believed that he’d put us at risk but he has. Whatever he did or didn’t do to Paula has to be connected to his work. He’s covered so many court cases it’s inevitable that there are people out there holding grudges against him. Against us. I spent all of yesterday going back and forth with my decision but when I woke up this morning my head was clear. I knew what I had to do.

Max said he’d be home tonight at the normal time but it’s 6.45 and there’s still no sign of him. Elise should be bathed and in her pyjamas by now but I held off a bit so she could spend some time with Max first.

My phone pings. It’s a text from Helen:

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m a shit friend. I thought I’d replied to your text. I just got your Facebook message. What’s happened?! I can ring you now if you want?

‘Where’s Daddy, Mummy?’ Elise asks again but this time her question is interrupted by a sharp knocking at the front door. Her face lights up and she picks herself up from the floor, hands on the tiles, bottom in the air, and toddles down the hallway towards the front door.

‘Max,’ I say as I release the catch. ‘I didn’t double-lock it. You could have used your—’

But it’s not my husband standing outside the house.

‘Mrs Joanne Blackmore? My name is DS Merriott from Avon and Somerset Constabulary.’ He flashes his badge at me. ‘Could I come in, please?’

There are four police officers standing outside my house: three men and one woman. The man standing closest to me is bald, with thick, black-framed glasses and a dour expression.

‘What’s this about?’ I touch a hand to Elise’s shoulders to reassure her and fight to keep my voice steady. There’s something about the way DS Merriott is looking at me that makes me feel uncomfortable. ‘Is it about Paula? I told the other police officer I’d changed my mind about reporting her.’

‘If we could talk inside, please, madam?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

I usher Elise into the living room and am followed by DS Merriott and the female officer. The two male officers remain in the hall. Elise immediately rushes towards her box of toys by the bay window. I sit down in the armchair. DS Merriott takes the sofa and the female officer squats down by the toy box. She engages Elise in conversation, asking her which is her favourite toy.

‘Mrs Blackmore.’ DS Merriott inches forward on the sofa and reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘I have a warrant to search your property. We have reason to believe that you may be handling or distributing illegal drugs and this warrant gives us the authority to look in your rooms and outbuildings.’

He hands me an official-looking piece of paper. My name and address are at the top and it’s been signed at the bottom by a magistrate.

‘Drugs?’ The word comes out sharply. When Elise turns to look at me I lower my voice. ‘There has to be some kind of mistake. No one in this house does drugs.’

‘There’s been no mistake, madam.’ He gestures towards the hallway where the two male police officers are hovering. ‘PC Beare and PC Bagnall will conduct a controlled search now. They’ll endeavour not to make a mess.’

‘They’re going to look through all my things? All my personal things?’ The thought makes me feel sick.

‘They’ll look through everything.’

‘There’s a wooden box,’ I say. ‘In the cupboard over there. It’s got … there are mementos inside, of a baby we lost. Handprints, footprints, a little hat. Please,’ – I glance at the two men in the hall – ‘please be careful with it.’

They look at DS Merriott who nods.

‘We’ll get started then, Sarg,’ says the younger of the two.

I sit in my seat, rigid with shock, as they head next door into Max’s home office. Their boots traipse back and forth on the wooden floorboards as they move around his study. Drawers are opened and closed, papers are riffled through. It’s like being burgled whilst you’re still in the house. This is my home. This is where I feel safe. I want to run into the office and tell them to get out.

Instead I say, ‘Can I ring my husband?’

DS Merriott glances down at the notepad in his hands. ‘Max Blackmore,’ he says, more to himself than me. ‘Journalist at the Bristol News. The information we received specifically pertains to you, although, if anything is recovered, we will need to talk to your husband too.’

I feel a pulse of panic. ‘Please! I need to tell him what’s going on.’

A muscle twitches in his jaw. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

The two young police officers move from Max’s office to the kitchen. Cupboard doors open and shut, glass tinkles and crockery clatters as they continue their search. There has to have been a mistake, that’s the only explanation for what’s going on. Max is vehemently anti-drugs and I haven’t taken recreational drugs since I was in my twenties. This has to be down to Paula.

‘I think I know why this is happening,’ I say and DS Merriott give me a sharp look. ‘Did someone called Paula tell you I was dealing drugs?’

‘I’m not at liberty to reveal details, Mrs Blackmore. All I can say is that a warrant wouldn’t have been granted without good reason.’

Exasperation makes my chest tighten but I keep my voice low and controlled as I tell him about Paula. As I speak, DS Merriott watches me intently but he doesn’t move. His hands remain in his lap, one on his thigh, the other covering his notebook.

I pause for breath. ‘Why aren’t you writing this down? It could be important.’

‘Possibly. What did your husband say when you told him about these incidents?’

‘Well I … I only told him about the first time it happened. I didn’t tell him about the second time because … because …’ What do I say? I can’t tell DS Merriott about me pushing Paula or taking Dad’s medication and then forgetting to collect Elise from school. ‘Because Max didn’t take me seriously when I told him about the first incident. He said he didn’t know a Paula. But he’s a crime reporter. I imagine lots of people have a grudge against him. Whoever she is she knows him and she’s been threatening me and my daughter.’

‘And you didn’t think to report this?’

‘No. Well. I did. I spoke to someone but I … I changed my mind. I thought Paula would leave me alone. But she hasn’t. She’s done this.’

One of the young male police officers appears in the doorway to the living room. He holds out a gloved hand, his fingers almost completely enclosing whatever lies in his palm, but not quite. I can see the corner of a clear plastic bag protruding from beneath his curled little finger.

‘Sarg,’ he says. ‘We’ve found something.’