‘Hello, Amy.’
There was more to say, but it was all I managed to get out before she hung up, then immediately blocked me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The first time PC Page calls and asks me to come in to the station, it’s only days since Matt’s gone missing. I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, as we arrange a time that’s supposedly mutually convenient; knowing I have no choice. But after the call ends, the pressure is palpable. Presumably it’s to do with Matt, but I’ve no way of knowing what Amy’s said to them. If she’s said too much, who knows what conclusions the police may have jumped to.
It’s early afternoon when I drive along the seafront towards the police station. The sea swell is a surging grey-blue, the sky scattered with white clouds. When I park and get out, I pull my jacket around me against the wind, before heading inside. A young officer leads me along a typically bland corridor with white walls and a brown carpet, until he stops outside a cracked-open door. As he knocks, inside, from behind an untidy desk, PC Page looks up.
‘Please come in, Ms Rose. Take a seat.’
As I walk in, I take off my jacket, slinging it over the back of the chair, wondering why a phone call wouldn’t do and why it’s so important for me to come here.
‘DI Lacey’s joining us. He won’t keep us long.’
Alarm flickers through me. I haven’t been brought in for official questioning as such, so why the two of them? My disquiet obviously shows.
It’s as if she reads my mind. ‘It’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s just at this stage, it’s helpful if we both hear what you have to say.’
‘Sure.’ My hands are clammy as I sit there, grateful for a few moments to compose my thoughts, telling myself Amy wouldn’t have been rash enough to bring up the past. Like me, she has too much at stake. Trying to distract myself, I look around. It’s a typical nondescript office; impersonal, untidy, unlike mine – with its elegant proportions, tall windows, and polished mahogany desk. Then the door opens and an older man walks in, with greying hair and pale skin.
‘Sir.’ PC Page looks at me. ‘This is Fiona Rose.’
He nods towards me. ‘Detective Inspector Lacey. Thank you for coming in. Has PC Page told you what this is about?’
‘No.’ I try to sound cool, confident, unfazed, wondering how long it’ll take them to find out what’s happened to Matt.
He pulls up another chair. ‘We’d like to hear more about what Mr Roche told you, about his fiancée, Amy Reid. I take it you’ve never met?’
The question takes me by surprise, the lie out before I can stop it. ‘No. Of course, I’ve thought about trying to talk to her. When Matt first told her about me, he didn’t tell her who I was. But that night he disappeared, maybe he did tell her. I’ve no way of knowing.’
PC Page frowns at me. ‘She hasn’t said anything to us about you.’
DI Lacey’s face is unreadable. ‘As a divorce lawyer, I’m sure it must happen all the time that you’re presented with two conflicting stories. On the one hand, the devoted fiancée, the wedding a fortnight away, the picture she paints of a loving partner – most of the time, that is …’ Pausing, he and PC Page exchange glances. ‘Then on the other, there’s yours.’ He frowns. ‘Tell me. Apart from the fact that you’re a partner with Hollis and James, a highly reputable firm who speak extremely favourably of you, why should your story be any more plausible?’
I stare at him, surprised that already, he’s checked me out. Surely the facts speak for themselves – wasn’t that the whole point? I certainly wasn’t expecting to be challenged. ‘I’ve told you the truth. Matt spoke to me at length about Amy’s problems – her mood swings, her instability. I’m not sure what else I can add.’
‘Ms Rose isn’t the only person with accounts of Ms Reid’s disturbed behaviour. Here.’ As PC Page passes him what looks like a couple of witness statements, my ears prick up.
He shakes his head. ‘But what we don’t have is first-hand evidence. We need to check her GP records, find out if there were any referrals for mental health problems.’ Pausing, the DI turns back to me. ‘Going back, were you aware that Mr Roche wanted Ms Reid to go into a private hospital?’
It’s the first I’ve heard of it, but doesn’t surprise me. ‘From what he said, it seemed obvious enough she needed help, but he didn’t mention anything about a hospital.’
‘Apparently he packed her case for her, then drove her there.’
I look at him. ‘I honestly had no idea. Maybe it was before we met.’
‘It’s quite an extreme act,’ the DI remarks. ‘If he confided in you the way you’ve described, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about that.’ He pauses. ‘Tell me again. You last saw Mr Roche the night he disappeared?’
I nod. ‘He came to my flat. I think you have CCTV footage of where he went that evening.’ I glance at PC Page, relieved when she nods. ‘It was late when he left me. He’d had a few drinks, so instead of driving, he called a taxi.’
‘So apart from the taxi driver, that makes you the last person to see him.’
I’m frowning as I remember something I haven’t thought of, until now. ‘I saw him go outside and close the front door behind him. I didn’t actually see him get in the taxi.’
The DI sits back in his chair. ‘So if you and Ms Reid are both to be believed, somewhere between leaving your flat and arriving back home, he disappeared.’
After a brief silence, PC Page takes a deep breath. ‘The day after Mr Roche disappeared, someone left a bouquet of flowers on
