Read Online Tell the Truth by Katherine Howell - Free Book Online Page B

you join us for a few minutes?’
    Paris – Stacey’s niece, Rowan’s paramedic trainee – was dressed in gym pants and shoes and a white Adidas jacket over a black T-shirt, and carried a gym bag.
    She eyed them warily. ‘What’s going on?’ She cast a sceptical look at the folded cloth in her mother’s hand, a look Ella noted with interest. ‘Fainted again, huh?’
    Hmm . Scepticism in the voice too.
    â€˜I’m fine, darling,’ Marie said. ‘No need to worry.’
    Ella said, ‘Paris, when did you last see or talk to your aunt Stacey?’
    â€˜Last week, at work. Thursday morning. Rowan and I were finishing nightshift and she was coming in for a dayshift. Why?’
    â€˜Has she told you about any problems she’s been having?’ Murray asked.
    â€˜No, nothing.’
    â€˜Would you say you’re close?’ Ella asked.
    Marie let out a bark of laughter.
    â€˜Mum,’ Paris said.
    â€˜Paris would say yes, but I doubt Stacey would,’ Marie told Ella. ‘I myself would call it a severely lopsided relationship.’
    Paris looked at the floor, and Ella saw the muscles in her jaw tense.
    She cleared her throat and glanced at Murray. ‘Marie, if you’re sure you’re feeling better, could I perhaps trouble you for some water, please? Or maybe even tea?’
    â€˜Tea sounds good. I’ll give you a hand.’ Murray stood and helped Marie to her feet.
    When they were out of the room, Murray talking a constant stream in the kitchen, Ella said to Paris, ‘No matter what your mother says, you and your aunt are close, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Paris’s cheeks were flushed, and she shot an angry look towards the kitchen. ‘Sometimes I feel closer to her than I do to Mum. She helps me with work, she’s been there all my life. We talk on the phone every other day. Why? Has something happened?’
    â€˜Her car was found with blood in it. A lot of blood. And she’s missing.’
    The colour fell from Paris’s face.
    â€˜It’s really important that you think hard,’ Ella said. ‘Has she confided in you about trouble she was having with someone?’
    Paris shook her head, her eyes brimming over. From the kitchen came the sound of teaspoons in cups and Murray’s continued blather.
    â€˜Does she get on with everyone at work?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Paris croaked. ‘Everyone loves her.’
    â€˜How about with your mother?’
    â€˜They bicker a lot,’ Paris said. ‘Stacey says they always have.’
    â€˜Is there anything they bicker about frequently?’
    Paris shook her head. ‘They just don’t seem to agree on things generally.’
    â€˜What about your uncle, James? Do he and Stacey argue?’
    â€˜Not exactly,’ Paris said. ‘I mean, I’ve never seen them. I remember Mum and Dad yelling at each other when I was little, and even the times I used to stay at Stacey and James’s place after Dad died and Mum needed a break, I never saw or heard anything like that.’ She hesitated.
    â€˜But?’ Ella said.
    â€˜But a couple of times when Stacey and I have been doing stuff, like she’s been helping me study or whatever, she was almost crying, and when I asked her what was wrong she said it was nothing major, just a bit of disagreement at home. I don’t know what about – she didn’t tell me and I felt weird asking. I tried to say that she could talk to me if she wanted, but she just moved on to whatever we were doing.’
    â€˜When did that happen?’
    â€˜In the last few months,’ Paris said. ‘Once since I’ve been working, so in the last six weeks.’
    Ella could hear Murray still talking in the kitchen, but knew she didn’t have much more time. ‘How do you get along with James?’
    â€˜All right,’ she said. ‘He’s okay, though if it