Jake sat up with a start when he heard my voice – I heard the familiar creak of his big office chair – and I wished I was calling with better news.
‘Well if the phone has been switched back on, it should be straightforward to find – they can locate it by the signal. They should know right away if he has it.’
‘He’s got it, I’m convinced. So you think they will act quickly?’
I pictured Phil, languishing in a cell somewhere. Falsely accused, thanks to me stumbling across those messages and assuming the worst about Amy without questioning it. And meanwhile I’d failed to see what was right in front of me. My head pounded.
‘I’ll give my contact a call this evening and see what I can find out. Try not to think about it in the meantime.’
I hung up, thinking about the fact that I’d told the police about Mike’s affair. Had I laid out my sister’s dirty laundry for everyone to gawk over, for nothing? I topped up my vodka, hoping to get some clarity.
Mike had been having an affair, that much was certain. But the messages to Amy – someone had set me up to frame Phil. And Richard had Amy’s phone the whole time. I just hoped that Rachel and Phil would forgive me one day.
I was late for dinner at Amy’s. Mike was helping Lucas to cook again, and something had gone wrong – the smell of acrid smoke was all that remained of a failed experiment. He was scrubbing at the burned pan and gave me a sheepish tilt of his chin as a greeting. I glared back at him, just daring him to say something. Even the sight of him was more than I could bear.
I helped Lucas to dish out and served Mike last, roughly spooning a dollop of fish pie onto his plate. Auntie Sue raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
My head was swimming, and I found it hard to concentrate for more than a moment before another ugly thought appeared. Betsy was trying to tell me some long and convoluted story, with the enthusiasm and level of unnecessary detail that only an eight-year-old can muster, and I struggled to follow. The buzz from my vodka was wearing off and I had to steal away to the bathroom midway through the meal to refresh myself.
I cleared up after dinner, dismissing the others’ offers to help. I plunged my hands into the basin of too-hot water, watching them disappear beneath the layer of suds until the pain was too much and pulling them out again, angry and raw.
Mike came back into the kitchen and stood at a safe distance across the galley. ‘I said I’m sorry, Izzy…’
I didn’t turn around. ‘It’s not me you should be apologising to. Besides, sorry isn’t going to change anything.’
He sighed. ‘No, it’s not. All I can say is how much I regret it, and I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life… But please. We were doing well here. We were OK at this, me and you.’
I thought again of Amy’s will, and her letter to me. She’d wanted me and Mike to work together, to be parent and guardian, even after she’d known that he had been unfaithful.
Or had she wanted that? Maybe the reason she had asked me to come back was because she didn’t trust Mike anymore. I put my hands back into the hot water.
There was a knock at the door.
‘I’ll get it,’ called Hannah.
The front door swung open with a gasp, and a draft of cool evening air blew down the hall and into the kitchen. Mike and I turned at the same time.
DCI Bell and PC Knowles were standing on the doorstep.
Hannah turned and looked down the hallway towards the kitchen, to me and Mike, her eyes pleading for one of the grown-ups to come and deal with this.
Mike walked down the hallway, rolling down his shirt sleeves back towards his wrists like a schoolboy who had been disciplined for sloppy uniform. He put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, still doing up the button on his shirt cuff. I edged up the hall behind him, my eyes fixed on the officers’ boots. Auntie Sue appeared at the living room door, her mouth dropping to a surprised ‘oh’. The birdsong of Betsy’s laughter rang out from inside.
DCI Bell had her hat under her arm.
‘Mr Sanders, Miss Morton – could we speak in private for just a moment?’
‘Come on, Hannah.’ I put my hands on her shoulders, steering her gently away from the door.
Auntie Sue beckoned her over and pulled her into the living room. Betsy had gone quiet. The only sound was the blaring of the television. I followed Mike outside and pulled the door closed behind us. My heart was hammering.
‘We’ve released Phil Turner without charge.’ DCI Bell said, her voice hushed. ‘The evidence against him was not as it initially appeared. I’m now of the opinion that it could have been fabricated.’ Her eyes locked with mine.
‘Even the medication in his garage?’ I said.
‘He insists he’s never seen it before. In light of other recent developments, we believe it could have been planted there.’
I shivered and wrapped my arms tightly around myself.
She carried on. ‘And we’ve taken Richard Pringle in for questioning. Mr Pringle has come in voluntarily to discuss Amy’s accident and will
