Read Online The Betrayal of Trust by Susan Hill - Free Book Online

armlock. ‘You heard the lady.Shut it. Now come quietly.’
    ‘Ha, not even uniform say that any more. Can I have a slug of beer?’
    ‘No. Where are the others?’
    ‘Hannah’s at Stupid Samantha’s and Felix is in bed. And I’m in the county hockey second 11 team – can you come to a match next Thursday?’
    ‘Second 11? I’m impressed, Sambo.’
    ‘Huh, more than Grandpa is. He just said, “Why not the first 11?” OK, I could do ten more minutes,Moll, but then I have to do Latin homework.’
    Simon felt the momentary chill of not belonging. Sam picked up the book from which he was testing Molly, the beer was finished, the casserole for tomorrow, his sister out. He hesitated, then walked to the door.
    ‘Tell Mum I’ll call her.’
    Sam nodded but did not look up. ‘Right, let’s carry on,’ he said.
    Molly sighed.
    She was very pretty, Simon thought.Dark curly hair. Heart-shaped face. Intelligent. Smiley.
    ‘Femur,’ Sam said.
    Simon left.
    His mobile rang as he drove through the close, and when he got up to his flat the message light was flashing on the landline.
    ‘ Simon, Paula Devenish. Can you ring me at home ?’
    ‘ Simon, Paula, I’m leaving this on both phones. Ring me when you have a moment would you ?’
    Ten minutes later he was driving throughthe southern outskirts of Bevham. It was getting on for half past seven by the time he reached the house, which was set back from what had once been a quiet country road. There had been a tall Scots pine in the front , he remembered, and as he pulled into the drive he saw that it was lying on the garden. Something else uprooted by the storm.
    Paula Devenish had been married previously, and hadtwo grown-up sons; five years ago she had married again, apparently with great success.
    Her husband opened the door now, a bearded, broad-shouldered property developer who, Simon knew, had lost his wife and son in a violent attack when a burglary had gone wrong. He himself had suffered severe injuries and lost the sight in an eye. They had only met formally but Serrailler had taken to MalcolmInnes. He had a solid calm and steadiness about him, and he smiled a lot.
    He smiled now, showing the way into the sitting room.
    ‘I can’t keep her down,’ he said. ‘Any suggestions?’
    ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
    ‘I’m going stir-crazy,’ Paula said. She was on a sofa with her feet up and it was clear that the illness had taken some of the stuffing out of her. She looked thinner in the face, and older.
    ‘Have you eaten, Simon – and if not, will you join us? It’s just family supper.’
    ‘I’d like that, thank you.’
    ‘Good. I could do with some police talk.’
    ‘Which she is not supposed to have.’ Malcolm Innes held up a glass and a bottle of wine. ‘Or a beer?’
    ‘Beer please. So what am I allowed to chat about? – I can do holidays, politics, weather –’
    ‘You’ll do police.’
    Malcolm went out, laughing.

    ‘He cooks,’ she said, ‘nothing else, wouldn’t know where the washing machine is or how to fold a shirt, but he cooks.’
    Malcolm brought in Simon’s beer. There was a fire burning low in the grate, smelling of damp wood.
    ‘Sorry about the urgent-sounding messages. Not urgent at all really.’
    ‘You have withdrawal symptoms.’
    ‘For about a week I honestly didn’t care if the force fell to bits, butnow I’m afraid it’s all going to slip through my fingers. Am I a control freak?’
    ‘All chiefs are.’
    ‘We’re supposed to be brilliant at delegating.’
    ‘I’m supposed to be that and look at me. We’re alike – we can delegate the boring stuff but when the job gets exciting we want to be in the thick of it.’
    He was surprised how easy it was to talk to her as an equal, not because she had been ill butbecause a domestic setting and the absence of uniform made the essential difference. She was not the Chief, not his boss, she was a fellow police officer and a friend.
    Paula Devenish was a formidable