Page 35 of The Vow
Silently he unlocked his phone, then scrolled through his photos. ‘Here.’ He passed it to me.
Her looks contradicted everything Matt had said about her. On the screen, Amy’s face looked back at me, her fair hair glinting in the sun, no hint of instability in her eyes. Instead, she looked calm, striking, composed, self-possessed. I hand the phone back, hating that I can’t tell him what I know about her. How he doesn’t know that all this time, Amy’s been hiding something from him.
Amy
Chapter Twenty-One
In the back of the police car, I’m in a state of shock until slowly, I start to rationalise what’s happening. I’ve been arrested in connection with Matt’s disappearance. It can only mean they’ve found evidence linking it to me – but what? As the police car drives towards Brighton, I’m numb, the roads and hills I know so well suddenly unfamiliar, my landscape changed forever, as I confront the fact that somehow the police think I’m responsible.
Gazing outside, a feeling of dread hovers over me. Anger too – not just with Matt, but with the police for wrongfully arresting me. But my overwhelming emotion is fear. What if no-one believes me? ‘I need to call a lawyer.’ The words out before I realise, I don’t have one.
Jess.My desperation is stepped up a level as an image of her face flashes into my mind. She’ll be devastated. Who will tell her? ‘Someone needs to tell Jess.’
Without meeting my eyes, PC Page nods. ‘You’ll be given the opportunity to make a call once you’ve been taken into custody.’
Custody.Until now, it’s a thought that hasn’t even entered my head. But that’s what happens when someone’s arrested. It’s the next step. After taking my fingerprints, I’ll be in a cell, like a common criminal. When I’m innocent.
I have to make sure Jess knows – before she hears from someone else. She’ll be upset and worried, but she’ll know there’s been a mistake. Someone needs to go to Falmouth and tell her in person what’s happened, protecting her from any backlash. To look after her, until I’m out of here.
Her father, Dominic, is the obvious person to ask, but, lacking in empathy, what will he say to her? Will he make sure she knows I’m innocent? These and a million other questions flash through my head, while a new reality tenuously settles around me.
The police clearly think Matt’s disappearance is suspicious. Tears fill my eyes as out of nowhere, that morning in Brighton comes back to me. The woman who stopped me. Her words.He isn’t who you think he is … You’re in danger. Get away … before it’s too late. And now it is too late. Blankly, I stare outside across the misty landscape, as the first raindrops snake down the closed window. Then, utterly powerless, I close my eyes, my thoughts fraying like string.
*
The custody centre has white walls and a cheap blue carpet. Inside, I’m led into a small room where they take my fingerprints and a DNA swab. Forcing myself to stay calm, I tell myself it’s only a matter of time before they realise their mistake. Her eyes avoiding mine, PC Page waits with me, while the custody sergeant completes the necessary paperwork, then I’m asked to hand over my personal belongings. When they ask me for my phone, suddenly I realise I haven’t brought it with me. ‘I need to call someone – a lawyer.’
PC Page nods. ‘As soon as we’ve finished the paperwork.’
‘This is so fucking ridiculous.’ I know I’m not helping myself, but a cocktail of anger and helplessness fuels me as I imagine the police in my home, going through my things, even picking up my phone, scrolling through my calls, putting their own interpretation on my personal messages. As a suspect, even though I’m innocent, I have no privacy. ‘I haven’t done anything. I shouldn’t be here.’
‘I understand you’re upset.’ As PC Page speaks, for a moment, I look for a hint of compassion. But there is none. ‘Do you have someone in mind?’
It’s the million-dollar question. I’ve never needed a lawyer before. Shaking my head, I shrug. ‘I don’t know anyone.’
‘We can arrange a solicitor if you need us to.’ PC Page’s voice is matter of fact. ‘This quite often happens.’
Nausea sweeps over me, as I hear myself casually referred to as similar to any other suspect. ‘I need a glass of water.’
For the first time I notice another uniformed PC near the door, as PC Page glances towards him. ‘Could you fetch a glass of water?’
I’d thought about calling Dominic, but as I think of Jess, I know he isn’t the right person to tell her. ‘If I’m allowed to make a call, I need to speak to my daughter. She should hear what’s happening from me.’
PC Page nods, passing me a phone. Taking it, I start dialling Jess’s number with shaking hands, then changing my mind, I call Cath.
*
An hour later, apart from the CCTV camera monitoring the cell I’m being held in, I’m alone. Calling Cath was the right thing to do. When I spoke to her, after she got over the initialshock, she took charge, immediately offering to drive down to Falmouth to see Jess. In Bristol, she’s closer to Jess than Dominic is. She’ll also be more supportive. I’d imagined Jess’s reaction if I called her, the shock that she wouldn’t have been able to hide from her fellow students – for all I knew, she might have been in the middle of a lecture. I don’t want her painted as the daughter of a suspected criminal, especially when I’m completely innocent.
Knowing Cath will make sure no-one overhears, that she’ll protect Jess, is some comfort. On the narrow bed, I wrap my arms tightly around myself, thankful that she is on her way to Jess. At last away from everyone, tears scald my face, as the indignity and injustice of what’s happening to me close in.
Only now that it’s been taken away do I appreciate the basic liberty that freedom is. As my tears subside, an urgency grips me; to demand to be heard. To be told how long I’m being held here. But then a cold, logical part of me takes hold. The police clearly have enough evidence to convince them I’m a suspect. I have to stay in control, keep my wits about me, in order for them to realise that I’m not.
Sitting in the cell, I scrutinise everything I know about Matt, trying to imagine what someone might have told the police. Maybe something Lara said; what evidence may have been planted, as I take in the unfamiliar sounds around me. Briefly raised voices, the opening and closing of doors, footsteps coming closer, but not close enough, knowing twenty-four hours of this could lie ahead of me, though unless they find evidence that proves my innocence, it could be longer.
If you’re suspected of a serious crime, you can be held for up to ninety-six hours.The thought of ninety-six hours feels interminable, as words keep repeating in my head. Serious crime. Matt. Matt’s disappearance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
