‘I have no idea,’ Jack answered tersely.
‘One can’t help wondering why she would be interested in her. Why she would know of her movements, unless perhaps she’d been following her. Or you, perhaps?’ she continued, scanning his eyes, obvious accusation in her own.
Jack said nothing. He was trying very hard to hold on to his temper.
‘It does lead one to hypothesise that Natalia could only have been interested in Imogen because she believed that you were.’
He lost it. ‘I have no fuckingideawhy she would have been interested in Imogen’s movements. I didn’t even know that she wasalive. Now, am I free to leave or do you have any more time-wasting questions to ask me when you should be out there looking for Kara?’
She continued to study him, her expression impassive. ‘Just one or two, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Jack felt his jaw tense. ‘Would it make any difference if I did?’ he shot back.
‘Were you in the habit of cheating on your wife, Mr Conley?’ she asked anyway.
‘What?’He squinted at her warily. Where the hell was this going now?
‘I asked you whether you cheated on your wife,’ she reiterated. ‘Whether you might have had an affair. It might explain why your wife would have felt so depressed. Jealous, even.’
‘No, I was not in the habit of cheating on my wife,’ Jack grated.
Frowning, Blake glanced at her notes. ‘There was some indication on your phone that you might have done.’
Jesus.The WhatsApp message. He felt his stomach go into freefall. ‘If you’re talking about a message I received a while back, the one and only message I can think of,’ he said, ‘it was from someone who was a mutual friend to both Natalia andmyself and also a counsellor. As such, she was trying to help us. I recall that around that time, my wife was having one of her episodes, making me reluctant to leave her on her own. I think I responded accordingly.’
‘“Too risky.”’ The detective quoted from her notes, then looked coolly back at him. ‘Were you having an affair with Imogen Taylor?’ she asked. ‘Your mother-in-law seemed to think there might have been something between you.’
‘For fu…’Lina.He might have guessed. He pressed his thumb and forefingers hard against his forehead.
‘Were you involved with her, Mr Conley?’ the detective pushed.
‘No, I wasnot.’ Jack banged the flat of his hand against the table.
She looked unimpressed. ‘Did you encourage her in any way?’
‘She was sixteen.’ Jack eyed the woman levelly. ‘My daughter’s best friend. Do you honestly think I would do something so despicable to either of those girls?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, holding his gaze. ‘I have no idea what your predilections are, Mr Conley. I’m only interested in ascertaining the facts.’
He tore his gaze away. ‘You have them,’ he said, standing abruptly. ‘Now, if you have nothing to back up the ridiculous allegations of someone who’s clearly struggling with dementia, I’m leaving.’
FIFTY-FIVE
JEMMA
Jemma was checking the beef bourguignon when her phone rang. Popping the lid back on the dish, she placed the spoon on the spoon rest, cursing silently when she failed to catch a drip before it plopped onto her pristine worktop, then hurried to answer.
Noting it was Jack calling on the new number he’d texted her using, her heart missed a beat.
‘Anyone interesting?’ her husband asked, coming into the kitchen.
‘Sales call,’ she said, eyeing the ceiling in faux despair and quickly pressing reject.
Andrew was perusing the wine rack for a suitable wine to complement the food when the phone rang again. ‘Persistent buggers,’ he commented, arching an eyebrow in her direction.
‘I get loads of them.’ Jemma sighed. ‘They drive me mad.’ A flutter of panic climbing her chest, she rejected that call too, then placed the phone face-down and pushed it to the back of the worktop.
‘Merlot or Malbec?’ Andrew asked, pulling a bottle out and examining the label.
