‘Ben …’ Emily admonished him.
‘Well, she is, let’s face it. I know she’s dealing with shit, but we all are, aren’t we? If she wants to be treated with respect, then she needs to stop thinking about herself and grow …’ He stopped, an alarmed look on his face as his gaze travelled past Emily to the front door.
Emily turned around, her heart catching as she recognised the unmistakable silhouette of a uniformed police officer through the opaque glass, along with another person. DS Regan, she realised.
‘They’re probably here about what happened,’ she reassured Ben, trepidation prickling her spine nevertheless as she went to the door, wavering briefly before pulling it open.
‘Mrs Merriden.’ DS Regan gave her a short smile. ‘Do you mind if we …’ Her expression unreadable, she nodded past her to the hall.
‘Yes, of course.’ Stepping back to allow them access, she glanced at Jake, who was descending the stairs.
‘Is this to do with Edward Simpson?’ he asked, his face taut. Emily hoped it wasn’t. They’d given the police all the information they could.
DS Regan looked cautiously between them. ‘No,’ she said, her gaze flicking to Ben. ‘We heard the news. Here’s hoping he pulls through. I gather he’s well liked.’
‘He is.’ Emily searched her face, her apprehension growing as she wondered what it was they had come for.
‘We’re actually here about a separate incident,’ DS Regan said, taking a breath. ‘One we believe occurred somewhere between eight and ten o’clock last night.’
Incident?Emily’s stomach turned over.
‘I’m afraid a young woman has been found,’ the detective went on, causing Emily’s heart to stop beating, ‘on Orchard Lane, not far from Apple Tree Farm. She’s critically injured.’
Forty
Millie
Watching Louis’ flat, Millie saw him finally return from God knew where. She gave herself a moment, staying where she was a short way down the lane.
He’d refused to answer her calls and texts warning him that her dad was probably on to them. From his lack of contact, it was obvious that he didn’t give a shit about the consequences for her; that he probably never had. Where had he been, the bastard, going off without so much as a word? Anger bubbling inside her, she took several slow breaths, cautioning herself to calm down. She needed to act naturally. She needed evidence to confront him with. He’d been using her. She’d suspected it, but was still struggling to believe it. He’d been lying to her, stringing her along to get access to drugs – and what else? Why had he been so bloody interested in the passwords under Nicky’s desk, even writing them down? And why, she wondered again, had he familiarised himself with the staff at the surgery? Precisely how much bullshit he’d fed her Millie wasn’t sure, but he had, she had no doubt about that, and she intended to find out.
More composed after a minute, she checked her make-up, wanting to appear as normal as possible, though inside she was crushed, petrified and confused, then headed up the lane and across the forecourt of the derelict car workshop, avoiding the patches of oil and petrol in her new chunky leather boots as she went. She normally didn’t go to his flat unless by prior arrangement, at designated times to suit him. She knew now why. He hadn’t bought the perfume she’d smelled on him for his poor ailing mother. He’d been shagging his ex, she would be willing to bet, or else some cheap trollop. He’d probably brought her back here.
Trying to still the nausea swilling inside her as she recalled the times he’d made love to her here – had sex with her, she corrected; there had been no love there, she now realised, no tenderness or affection – she swallowed back her hurt and made her way up the concrete steps to his flat. Forcing herself to smile, she knocked and waited.
She could hear him moving around inside, but he didn’t answer. Wondering if he would if he knew it was her, she braced herself and knocked again, harder this time, calling out his name as she did.
A minute later, Louis swung the door open with an audible sigh. ‘Hi, sweet cup,’ he said, a tight smile on his face. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’
She’d bet he wasn’t. He hadn’t clicked his fingers, had he? ‘No, but I was worried about you,’ she said. ‘You didn’t return my calls and I thought something might have happened. That that Bear guy might have come after you or something.’
Her eyes trailed over his bare torso as he backed away from the door, allowing her in. A ripple of revulsion ran through her as once again she caught the scent of perfume.God,she’d been so naïve, acting just like a love-struck teenager. Her mum had been right to go on at her. She couldn’t bear to imagine the heartbreak she might be about to cause her. And her dad … She would shatter his illusions about her forever.
‘Yeah, sorry about that, babe. My mum’s been ill,’ he said, furrowing his brow in that concerned way he did whenever he talked about her. ‘I would have rung, but in between doctors and hospitals …’ Shrugging sadly, he trailed off, leaving her to surmise what a selfless soul he’d been.Liar.
‘Oh no.’ Millie frowned sympathetically. ‘Is she all right now?’ she asked, working to keep the contempt from her voice.
Louis nodded, emitting another heavy sigh. ‘She’s doing okay. She’s getting on a bit, though, so … you know. Look, I’m just about to take a shower. Grab yourself a can from the fridge, why don’t you?’ he said, and turned away to head for the bathroom. ‘I won’t be long, and then we’ll have a chat about what to do about your old man, yeah?’
‘Okay.’ Millie swallowed and went through to the tiny kitchenette. What did he mean, ‘what to do about your old man’?
Pausing as the bathroom door closed, she listened for sounds of running water and then slipped into the bedroom and looked hastily around, relief crashing through her when she spotted what she wanted lying on the bed.
Quickly she grabbed his phone and, her eyes flicking to the door, selected his texts. She didn’t have to scroll down too far to find what she was looking for: a whole ream of messages between him and some woman calling herself Sweet Cup, the term of endearment he used for Millie herself. Probably because he couldn’t remember her fucking name. She suppressed something between a laugh and a sob.
Can’t wait to fuck you again,his last message read.Your old man doesn’t know what he’s missing.If she was looking for evidence of what he’d been up to, it couldn’t get more damning than this, could it? Bastard! Nausea roiling inside her, she dropped heavily onto the bed and read the reply.Just remember it’s worth waiting for, the slut had sent back with a silly winking face.
She checked the dates. The texts had been sent a couple of weeks ago, but he was obviously still seeing the woman, or some other cheap tart, as evidenced by the reek of perfume.
