I picked it up. “I don’t even want to know what’s on it.”
Rob shook his head, then dug out a bunch of letters held together with a rubber band. He pulled the top one out and began reading. “‘I miss you so much. Please call me back, Jake. I want to see you. I’m so frightened that people will find out what happened and we’ll get in trouble…’ Shit. It’s from the girl. And this is post-marked a week ago. He’s still in touch with her. I bet he keeps her as his little pet, hanging onto every word he says.”
I wanted to collapse onto the ground. I wanted to stop and let the weight of the world push me down until I was nothing. But I didn’t do any of that. I searched through the filing cabinet with Rob looking for more incriminating evidence against the man I had sworn to love in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Did this count as sickness? Was I supposed to remain in love with this man forever?
I straightened myself and took a deep breath. No, I wouldn’t collapse, and I wouldn’t throw up. I wouldn’t do any of the things I would do if this were a movie. I would keep my head, and I would find out exactly what was going on.
“Emma.” There was a warning in Rob’s voice that tickled at my stomach and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “There are newspaper clippings in here… about your parents.”
“What?”
I took the scrapbook that Rob was holding and read through the pages. Every article about my parents’ death was documented within the book. He had meticulously cut out each page and glued it into the book, taking care not to fold over or crumple the corners.
“Why would he have this?”
“Emma, he was obsessed with you. Don’t you think he would have wanted your parents out of his way? Aiden was gone, I was gone—that left just two people in your life.”
My eyes burned with withheld tears. My arms lost all strength, and I almost dropped the scrapbook. It was Rob who caught it before it fell.
“You think he killed them,” I whispered.
Of all the horrible things that had happened to me, this was the most unexpected moment since I’d walked through the hospital doors and seen my son alive. This I had not anticipated at all.
“I do,” Rob said. “I’m sorry. And there’s more. Clippings of articles from when we thought Aiden had drowned.”
I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. “Do you think he took Aiden?”
Rob frowned. “He’s obsessed with you. I dunno whether it fits the pattern, but I think he’s capable of anything. I’m sorry, Em.”
“But… I saw Amy on that TV show, and I was sure it was her. She’s evil, she’s…” I trailed off, thinking about the masks people wear. I’d seen Amy for who she was during that interview, and now I had seen Jake for who he was, too. He was clearly unhinged, and that meant I had to assume he was capable of anything.
I thought back to the moment I was told about my parents’ accident. Mum and Dad had been on their way to London for a weekend away when their brakes failed on the motorway. They told me it was because of water in the brake fluid. An easy problem to miss when you’re not good with cars. It was all so feasible. But what if it was Jake tampering with the engine?
I thought back to that time. Who had I told? Who knew? Most of the village, probably. Mum was the GP and she treated most of the town. I would have mentioned it to anyone while doing my chores, shopping in the newsagents, or sending a parcel in the post office. It would only have taken Jake to overhear, or have a conversation with Mum herself. Or maybe someone mentioned it at school. Gossip was rife amongst the Bishoptown residents and not a lot happens, so a short trip to London might make itself into the daily chatter.Did you know Gina Price is going to London for the weekend? Well, she must be still trying to get over the death of her grandson. I wonder if they’ll see a show…
Yes, he could easily have heard about my parents’ trip down to London.
“Rob, I can’t bear this,” I whispered. “I’m trying to be strong. The air in here…”
“Take a step outside,” he said. He wrapped his arm around my waist. “Just for a moment. Breathe.”
ChapterThirty-Eight
The rain was soothing, and I didn’t care about the cold. I was freezing to the bones of me anyway, and it had nothing to do with the October weather. I leaned against the slick exterior of the garage and let the rain wash over me. The place smelled like wet cement and mould. That would be the smell I would most associate with Jake as time wore on. Wet cement and mould. That was him, slippery and foul, a man with two sides. How had I fallen for him?
He had manufactured it. All of it. He’d seen the way I’d fallen apart after Aiden, and he’d seized the opportunity while he had the chance. With my parents out of the picture, he knew I had no one to take care of me, and he knew I would fail to take care of myself. So there he was, swooping in like a knight in shining armour, becoming my protector and my healer. He introduced me to paints again. He helped me find a job. He set me back on my feet, always with an arm behind my back propping me up.
Rob emerged from the garage with his head held low. When he came closer, he pulled me into a hug. “I never should have left. I’m so sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have left you grieving for Aiden by yourself. I was fucking selfish, and I’m sorry.”
Though I hugged him back, I felt like a shell. Now I understood how Aiden could sleepwalk through his life without uttering a single syllable. I got it. My heart shrivelled up inside my rib cage, barely fluttering. I was hollowed out.
He shut the garage door and led us to the truck. Once inside, he removed his cap and rubbed the rain water from his skin.
“Aside from the pictures of you as a minor and the girl, there’s nothing. At least, there’s nothing that might prove whether he killed your parents,” he said. “He didn’t keep any souvenirs if he did do it, just those clippings, and I guess you could say it was his obsession with you that made him keep them. I think he did it, though. It makes sense. It fits in with all these lies.”
“Does it?” I spluttered. My throat was so choked that I could hardly get my words out. “Are we jumping to conclusions, here? He’s… he’s my husband, and I’m accusing him of murder.”
“Emma, I really think he did it. And I think you believe it too.”
