Read Online Lost Lives (Emily Swanson Mystery Thriller Series Book 1) by Malcolm Richards - Free Book Online Page A

afternoon.”
    Emily hesitated. “You never mentioned his wife was missing, when you showed me around. You said she’d gone back to Germany.”
    Paulina Blanchard folded her arms and met Emily’s questioning gaze. “Well, I’m sure that’s nobody’s business but Mr Henry’s.”
    ***
    The prospect of conversing with Karl Henry occupied her mind as she disappeared into the heaving throng—so much so that there were brief instants when she lost the need to count. When she reached The Holmeswood, she hurried across the road and entered Il Cuore. The café was crowded and heavy with chatter. Finding the only empty table, she sat down and placed her bag in her lap.
    Jerome had watched her come in. After taking a few more orders, he made his way over.
    “Good morning, Miss Swanson,” he said, bereft of his usual smile. He turned his order pad to a new page and tapped it with the nib of his pen. His eyes found a spot just above Emily’s left shoulder. “What can I get you?”
    “I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
    Jerome’s gaze moved down to her shoulder then fluttered across her face. He nodded.
    “I wasn’t being angry with you specifically. I was being angry at the situation. Please don’t take it personally. I was hoping that we could become friends.”
    Jerome slipped into the chair opposite. For a moment, he sat sulking like a scolded child. Then he said, “You hurt my feelings.”
    Emily felt her face sting.
    “But you were right. I could have done something. I could have called the police on any number of occasions. But I didn’t. I turned a blind eye just like everybody else. Maybe if I hadn’t, Alina would have been saved from a few bruises. Maybe she wouldn’t have disappeared.”
    Dozens of indecipherable conversations filled the space between them.
    “Then you believe me? You think something might have happened to her?” Emily reached across the table, then retracted her hand.
    Jerome shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she did take off. Or maybe Karl really did do something to her. Either way, I should have spoken up. We all should have.”
    Shamefaced, he hung his head. Across the room, unserved customers raised their voices in complaint.
    “We all make mistakes,” Emily said, she reached her hand across the table again and this time she kept it there, squeezing his wrist. “God knows, I have.”
    Jerome looked up with sad eyes. “I better get back to work.”
    “Apology accepted?” Emily asked.
    “I tell you what.” A hint of a smile returned to Jerome’s lips. “Come and watch Real Wives of Bognor Regis with me tonight and you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll even cook up some red pea soup, just like Grandma Miller used to make.”
    Emily smiled. “Okay.”
    “There’s one more thing. If we’re going to be friends, then you need to let me get to know you. That means no more evasive manoeuvres.”
    Across the table, Emily’s heart began beating like the wings of a panicked bird.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A week passed by. The weather grew bitterly cold. Christmas lights appeared over the city, sponsors’ brand names flashing in colourful patterns above Oxford Street. Emily woke early each morning, took her meds and read self-help books until noon. On some afternoons, she’d take a nap and then invite herself over to Harriet’s for tea. On others, she’d cautiously venture out into the wilderness that was London, attempting to acclimatise herself to the chaos. She and Jerome had shared a few evenings together, watching television and taking turns to cook. Emily liked Jerome very much, and it felt good to have someone she could call a friend again. But where Jerome happily volunteered information about his personal life—from the demise of his previous relationship to the uncertainty of his future—Emily still found herself dancing around his questions like a skater around a hole in the ice, giving him half-answers or shifting the focus of their conversations