Page 56 of Pervade London
I walked along the right side of the house and made my way into the garden, where more memories flooded back. All those quiet times I’d relaxed in the sun, reading books and sipping tea on the rickety old lounger, which was now missing. Overgrown weeds revealed this place had been deserted for well over a month.
I should have called Harold. I’d been wrapped up in my happiness and time had dissolved around me. There was always tomorrow, or next week. And yet that had been an illusion.
Rising on tiptoes, I peeked through the large kitchen window. The room was empty other than a roll of paper towels on the floor.
My stomach flipped when I thought that this could behisdoing…a stripping away of my present, the erasing of my past.
I left the place that had once been my refuge and rode the train to Westminster Tube station. Within an hour of leaving Harold’s, I was standing inside the reception area of New Scotland Yard, ready to bury James with accusations of what he’d done to me and Xander.
My adrenaline surged even as I took a seat in the waiting area. Waves of dread rose inside me when I thought of how long it might take the police to find Xander.
Or whatever his name was.
I leaned back in the chair, as I replayed James’ threat that going to the authorities would get me in a world of trouble.
Really?
Because what he’d done was going to see him locked up for a very long time.
I was escorted out of the waiting area and into a sparse interview room. If they were going for intimidating, they’d hit the mark. The scent of sweat and suspicion lingered in the air.
I tried to relax and act natural without throwing up. Others who’d waited in here had felt similar frustration apparently, as evidenced by the scratched-up table I sat at. On my right was a two-way mirror and I wondered if anyone else was watching from behind it.
A smartly dressed forty-something woman entered in civilian clothes, her ponytail twisted in on itself like an afterthought. She smiled brightly to greet me. It was the kindness I needed after all I’d been through.
“Emily? I’m D.I. Stewart.” Her Scottish accent lent a friendly air to her demeanor.
She took a seat on the other side of the table and pulled out a frayed notebook.
I smiled nervously. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”
“Of course. Just to confirm, your last name is Rampling?”
“Yes.”
“What brings you here today, Emily?”
“I’m worried about my boyfriend, Xander Rothschild.”
“You were living together?” She turned her notebook for me to read. “At this address?”
“Yes, and I’m here to report him missing.”
“I’m with CID. Sergeant Warren, who took your report, mentioned he was concerned about you.”
My heart hammered. “I’m fine, but I was threatened not to come here. I was warned not to talk with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, by the same man who forced Xander to leave. His name is James Ballad.” I pointed at her notepad, expecting her to write it down. “You need to find him.”
“James Ballad?” The tip of her pen stilled as she hesitated.
“That’s right. I was there when he ordered my fiancé to leave with him.”
“Xander left with…James?”
“He didn’t want to.”
