The Lies We Told by Camilla Way (best book recommendations txt) 📕

as the four of them sat down in the living room. The flat felt very crowded suddenly, a dark cloak of authority and gravity descending upon her home that gave her worst fears credence and made fresh anxiety twist in her belly. Outside on the street someone gave a long, low whistle; a car engine stuttered into life; the world continued as usual, oblivious to the tense, waiting silence of this room.

“I’ve been passed on the information you gave DC Mansfield yesterday,” Anderson began in a voice that was deep and measured, a faint accent curling around its vowels that Clara’s London ears identified vaguely as Midlands.

“I take it you’ve had no contact from Luke since then?”

Clara shook her head. “No.”

He nodded. “In most cases the missing person turns up within forty-eight hours. But due to the harassment Luke’s been receiving, we need to make sure there’s nothing more to this. I understand there’d been a letter . . . some photographs, as well as the break-in a few months ago? Do you have them here with you?”

For the next ten minutes Clara went about the flat, gathering the various items that DS Anderson requested—Luke’s bank details, the names and numbers of his friends and family and place of work, a recent photograph, his passport, and so on. She moved as if in a dream, stepping around DC Mansfield, who glanced at her apologetically as she conducted her own search, opening various cupboards and drawers. “What are you looking for?” Clara asked when she found her scrutinizing the bathroom cabinet.

“It’s just standard procedure,” she said, not really answering her question. “I’m going to need something with Luke’s DNA, by the way. Did he take his toothbrush with him?”

Clara shook her head. “He didn’t take anything with him.” She handed over Luke’s green toothbrush, leaving her own red one alone in its cup, and tried to fight the tears that sprang to her eyes.

When she returned to the living room, she gave DS Anderson everything she’d collected, and he nodded his thanks. “Luke left his mobile behind too,” she said, handing it to him. “The code’s sixteen-zero-nine.” The sixteenth of September. Her birthday. She remembered how he’d smiled and said, “That way I’ll never forget.” She watched as that, too, was efficiently deposited into a clear plastic evidence bag.

Anderson turned his attention to Mac. “And how about you, Mac? How long have you and Luke been friends?”

“Eighteen years. Since we were eleven.” Clara almost smiled at the way this giant Glaswegian was suddenly sitting up straighter, his knees pressed neatly together, meek as a kid in front of his headmaster.

“And there was nothing about his behavior recently that struck you as unusual at all?”

“No . . . I don’t think so, no.”

Clara glanced at him. Was there something strange about the way Mac said that? The slight hesitation before he spoke, something a little off about his tone? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Finally, twenty-five minutes after they arrived, the two officers got up to leave. “I think I have all I need for now,” Anderson told them. “I’m going to talk to Luke’s parents and his employers next.” He paused, consulting his notes. “Brindle Press? Is that right?” When Clara nodded, he went on. “We’ll also look at any relevant CCTV footage, to see if we can trace his movements after he left work yesterday.” He glanced at Mac. “And if you could both think of anything that might have happened in the last few weeks that could be relevant—any unusual phone calls, anything out of character that he might have said to either of you, or any change in his usual behavior . . .”

“Yes, yes of course,” Mac and Clara said together.

He nodded. “We’ll be in touch.”

After they left, Clara sank onto the sofa. “Jesus,” she murmured. She put her head in her hands. “At least they’re taking it seriously, I suppose.” When Mac didn’t reply, she turned to find him standing with his back to her, gazing out the window. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He was silent for a while, and then she heard him mutter something to himself. She stared at him in bewilderment. “Mac? What’s the matter? What is it?”

He turned to face her. “Jesus, Clara, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What on earth for?”

He raked his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I really didn’t want you to find out like this. But it’s all going to come out now—the police are going to talk to everyone—his work, his friends, everyone—and I don’t want you to hear about it that way.”

“For God’s sake, Mac! Hear about what?”

Mac closed his eyes for a moment. “Luke’s affair.”

—

The shock was like a body blow, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her reeling. And when she was finally able to speak, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Affair? Who with?”

“A girl from work. Her name’s Sadie. I think she’s . . .”

On the ads team. Blond hair, legs to her armpits. Barely twenty. “Yeah, I know who she is.” She felt strangely incapable of reaction, as if the information wouldn’t quite penetrate her brain. “How long?”

“A few weeks, I think, maybe a couple of months. But it finished ages ago. Listen, Clara—”

She cut across him, “A couple of months? And is he . . . does he love her?”

His reply was emphatic. “God, no! No, of course not. He loves you, Clara. I know he does.”

She gave a weak laugh. “Clearly.”

“It was just . . . oh God, Clara, I’m so sorry.”

She stared at him. “But he asked me to move in with him! Why? Why do that if you’re shagging someone else?”

“He knew Sadie was a huge mistake. He realized it was you he wanted.”

She nodded. “Great. Lucky me.”

A silence.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Mac?” she asked him quietly. She realized she felt almost as betrayed by him as she did by Luke, almost as hurt by her friend’s deceit as by the man who was supposed to be in love with her. She thought of all the