The One You Trust (12 page)

‘How many months?’ Emma wasn’t sure why this mattered, but it did.

‘Oh, it must have been five, six months.’

‘So not long, then.’

‘No, I suppose not. We stayed friends for a short while after the break-up. Kelly got fed up with his drinking – that’s why she broke up with him – and so did I eventually, to be honest. It can be pretty draining to be around someone who drinks so much, and is so unhappy. I just couldn’t be his friend any more. It was taking too much out of me.’ He looked at her. ‘I know it sounds selfish.’

‘No, I can understand that; it wasn’t being selfish. You did what you had to do. And you swear that you didn’t see him or speak to him after we started dating.’

‘I swear. I didn’t see him, or speak to him.’

‘But why didn’t you tell me about the connection?’ she said. She already knew the answer to this, or thought that she knew, but she wanted to hear it from him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Stuart?’

He paused. ‘I nearly told you, right at the beginning. Not when we first met, but on our third date . . . You remember we went to the theatre—’

‘To see
Les Misérables
, yes.’

‘Well, before that, at the restaurant, I planned to tell you. It had been bothering me that I was keeping it from you, and I decided it was best to just come out with it, but . . .’

Emma closed her eyes. Things were now making sense. ‘That was the evening I told you about how much he’d hurt me, and how I’d tried to move on from it all.’

He nodded.

‘And then that put you off saying anything.’ She hadn’t for one second intended to tell Dan all about her history, at least not so soon in their relationship, but she’d felt so comfortable with him that she hadn’t been able to help herself. And it had come out so naturally. ‘You thought that if you told me there was a connection between you and Stuart, I’d end the relationship.’

‘You were saying how you and I seemed like such a fresh start, a real break from the past. I got scared that you’d end it if you knew the truth. I didn’t want to risk losing you, because I knew from the start how much I felt for you.’

Emma wondered what she would have done if Dan had told her the truth on that third date. The honest answer was, she didn’t know. But it would certainly have made her think twice about continuing with the relationship. At the very least, the relationship would have felt very different than it had otherwise done. ‘I can understand why you didn’t tell me.’

‘I nearly told you a few times after that, but the longer it went on, the harder it seemed to get. I just felt that if I came out after months, years, saying this, it might wreck what we had – what we still have. Can you understand that?’

‘Yes, I can.’ Suddenly a thought occurred to her. ‘Stuart must have known. After you were kidnapped by Peter Myers, and I met up with Stuart again, he must have known that it was you – that you were the Dan Carlton he’d been mates with.’

Stuart had reappeared on the scene shortly after Dan had disappeared. It was then that Emma had discovered that Stuart had recommended her for the part in the film that she had landed at that time, as he knew its casting director, Guy Roberts. Stuart had also declared to Emma that he still loved her, and had wanted to rekindle their relationship.

‘I assume so, yes.’

‘But he didn’t say anything. He never said a word.’

Dan shrugged. ‘I guess he was just concentrating on winning you back. He had no reason to tell you that we’d known one another.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ But Emma still felt uneasy. ‘Would you have ever told me about you and Stuart?’ she asked.

‘To be honest, not now, no.’

Emma appreciated the straight answer. It would have been easy for him to say yes, but this answer was much more believable. ‘So why are you telling me now?’

‘I panicked in the café, and lied. But straight afterwards I spoke to Richard, and he made me see sense.’

Richard knows?
‘So your brother knows?’

‘Yes, he’s always known.’

There was a pause. ‘Are there any more secrets?’

‘No, I promise, there are no more secrets.’

‘Good.’ Emma reached out and took Dan’s hand.

He smiled. ‘We’re going to be all right, then?’

‘Yes. Now let’s eat. I’ve just got my appetite back.’

Emma waited on the sofa, listening to the radio, while Dan finished the washing up. It was his turn to do it, as she had prepared the meal.

‘Finished,’ Dan said, sitting down next to her. ‘Thanks for dinner, it was lovely. Pity you couldn’t finish yours.’

‘It’s okay, I wasn’t that hungry after all.’ Quite a bit of her meal had gone to waste, as her appetite hadn’t returned in the way she had thought.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Dan said again. ‘About everything.’

‘I know.’

‘Not just about the Stuart thing. I’m still really sorry I left you on your own today. You’d just told me that there was someone else out there, bothering us, and I ran out on you.’

‘You were upset. You weren’t thinking straight.’

‘Yes, but I shouldn’t have done it. What if something had happened to you? What if this person had been watching, and chose to take advantage of what went on?’

‘Now that’s scary.’ Unconsciously, Emma picked up a sofa cushion and hugged it to her chest.

‘Sorry, I don’t want to scare you, but what I’m saying is that my priority should have been protecting you, not myself.’ Dan shook his head with disgust.

‘You’re a human being,’ Emma said. ‘None of us is perfect, are we? We all do things we regret. The important thing is that we recognise what we’ve done, and we make amends.’

‘I will, Em, I’ll make amends. And it won’t happen again.’

‘I don’t want you to beat yourself up about this. I just want things to be normal.’

Dan nodded. ‘So, what next?’

Emma shrugged. ‘We hope that this person gets bored and leaves us alone, or the police catch them.’

‘Of course!’ Dan smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Em – I didn’t even ask if Lizzy had been in touch with the police.’

‘She hadn’t up until this morning, but she said she might give them a call later. You know Lizzy, though. She doesn’t think much of them.’ Suddenly Emma had a thought.

‘What is it?’

‘The photograph was real, and you said it was Stuart’s – that girl took the photo for him. Which means that the person who left it for Lizzy has had access to Stuart’s possessions.’

Dan nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that has to be right.’

‘So that lends credibility to the idea that Sally is involved in this. She and Stuart lived together, so she would have had easy access to his things. Assuming he’d kept the photograph, which he must have done, then she may have seen it, either before or after he died.’

‘While she was sorting out his stuff,’ Dan said.

‘Possibly, yes. It makes sense, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it certainly does. She’s still the one with the motive, and doing what this person is doing – trying to hurt us – well, it fits with her earlier behaviour. So what now?’

But before she could answer, the phone rang.

It was Will. ‘Em, I know it’s late, but can I come over to yours now? There’s something I have to tell you. And can you ask Lizzy to come over, too? We all need to be there, as it involves all of us.’

Chapter 16

Detective Inspector Mark Gasnier walked the short walk from the bus stop to the stadium, mingling with the crowds of good-spirited supporters, most of whom were clad in the claret and blue of West Ham United Football Club.

He himself wasn’t dressed in a replica shirt. Despite being a lifelong fan, he owned only one club jersey: a signed shirt from the early 1970s that he had won in a competition, and which was kept in a frame on the wall of his spare room. Mark Gasnier wore suits to matches. Although he was off duty, it paid to be prepared, just in case. He didn’t want to turn up to a crime scene or emergency meeting dressed like a football supporter.

‘Quiet night, I expect,’ Gasnier said to a young uniformed officer, who was standing on the street corner with a female colleague. He recognised him as a friend and colleague of his nephew, Matthew. When his nephew’s training cohort had started, Gasnier had taken Matthew and a few of his fellow recruits out for a drink, to give them some advice about how they might want to manage their careers, including a few do’s and don’ts. They were good kids, and had seemed to appreciate it. Of course, Matthew had ignored his original piece of advice of not joining the force, but then Gasnier’s father, a former Met officer himself, had once said the same to him. The result had been the same and, in many ways, Matthew reminded him of himself when he was that age.

‘I’m hoping so,’ the officer replied, and then smiled when he realised who he was talking to. ‘DI Gasnier. Matthew told me he’d managed to get you a ticket.’

Gasnier nodded, embarrassed at the situation. Tickets for the evening game – a European Champions League tie against the mighty Real Madrid – were like gold dust. Matthew, who often policed games, had obtained a ticket for his uncle via his network of contacts at the club. Gasnier didn’t believe in abuse of position, but he was willing to make an exception in this case. ‘Hopefully it won’t be quiet inside the ground,’ he noted. ‘Do you think they can do it?’

‘Not really, no,’ the officer replied. ‘The Hammers beating the Galácticos? I just can’t see it, sir.’

‘Me neither. Miracles do happen, though.’

‘Never say never, sir.’

‘Indeed. Is Matthew around? I was hoping to catch him before I went in.’

‘I think he’s down at the South Stand entrance, sir.’

Gasnier turned. ‘I’ll see if he’s there. Have a good night, officer.’

He made his way around the stadium, taking in the atmosphere. He really needed this. It had been a hard few weeks, with a particularly gruelling murder case taking its toll.

The noise from the stadium was already immense, with air horns sounding and team songs being sung. Around the stadium, there was lots of Real Madrid merchandise to be seen, all being sold by the street vendors, while local entrepreneurs had worked quickly to produce ‘half and half’ scarves featuring the colours and names of both clubs. In an uncharacteristic act, Gasnier stopped and bought one, looping it around his neck. He couldn’t find Matthew, and time was ticking by, so he headed for the correct gate.

He was just about to pass through the turnstile when his phone rang. He wouldn’t have noticed it, given the noise levels, but he’d put it on vibrate. He looked at the caller display, irked by the interruption. It was DS Christian Davies, his colleague.

He stood back from the turnstile entrance, his finger hovering over the green receive button. Davies knew he was at the game.
What’s he doing calling now?
But DS Davies had no appreciation of football; he wouldn’t understand the importance of the match at all. Gasnier’s finger switched to the red reject button, suddenly feeling a little like the US president with his finger ready to fire nukes.

Maybe Davies was calling because something significant was happening.
But can’t it wait for a few hours? Even for just over ninety minutes?
Evidently not, as he then rang again. If it could have waited, Davies would have given up by now.
Damn it
.

‘DI Gasnier . . . Christian, hello. Yes, I’m just about to go in now . . . What! When did this happen? . . . Okay, thanks for letting me know . . . No, you were right to tell me . . . No problem, we’ll speak again later tonight.’ Gasnier cut the call and stood with his back to the stadium wall as the supporters filed past. He looked at his ticket, and then towards the entrance, mulling over his next move. Then he strode away. The call of the game was strong, but the call of the force was stronger.

He made eye contact with a boy in his late teens, a bright yellow charity collection box slung around his neck.

‘Spare a bit of change for the local children’s hospice?’

Gasnier stopped. ‘Do you have a ticket for tonight’s game?’

‘No way, you must be joking! They sold out so fast, and who can afford it, anyway?’

‘Well, take this then,’ Gasnier said, handing him the ticket. ‘Think of it as a well done for what you’re doing for the charity.’

He didn’t wait to hear the thank you. He spotted a man walking towards him, accompanied by a young boy, probably about seven or eight years of age. He lifted the scarf from around his neck and handed it to the man as they passed. ‘They’ve been giving them away,’ he explained. ‘I’ve already got one.’

The man clutched the scarf, open-mouthed.

Gasnier picked up the pace, trying to banish the disappointment of missing out on the game of a lifetime. He knew that the issue in the phone call could have waited. He knew that he could have enjoyed the football match, and then dealt with it first thing tomorrow morning. But that wasn’t his style. No, he needed to speak to Emma Holden as soon as possible.

Chapter 17

‘Em, it’s so good to see you.’