The Serial Killer's Wife by Alice Hunter (romantic novels to read txt) 📕

master manipulator, not me. For a year after I told her about everything, she pretended to stand by me – promised she’d stay with me and get rid of that sweatshirt – and all the while she was planning to send me down. I can’t believe it.

‘All I want is a secure family, to be good parents to Poppy,’ she’d said. How does me getting sent to prison fit with that? Stupid bitch. I did everything for her and Poppy. I put them first every time.

The cell clanks shut behind me. I’m no longer on remand. I’m now a convicted criminal.

A serial killer.

There’s some kudos in that label, I guess. It might go some way to ensuring I’m not messed with in this place.

But for life? My mind can’t comprehend it yet. The judge – a bloody woman of course – gave me a whole life order.

Here until I die.

All because of Beth.

The betrayal cuts deep: I feel it in the pit of my stomach; I feel it in my heart. Every limb is heavy with it.

I sit on the bed and look at each of the four walls in turn. My life now is destined to be as dull and empty as they are.

I couldn’t care less about Beth – she’s hurt me too much. But as I lie down and stare at the ceiling, I wonder about Poppy. Will Beth tell her where I am? And eventually what I did? I suppose when she’s old enough, Poppy will be able to Google me and learn the truth anyway. Technology has a lot to answer for.

I still don’t get it, though. Why would Beth split our family up? She believed me that the deaths of Phoebe and Katie were accidental. And she was adamant we had to keep being a normal, happy family to ensure Poppy never grew up without a father, like she had. Or an abusive one, like I’d had.

What changed her mind?

Chapter 89

BETH

Now

It’s been three weeks since the trial and we’re due to leave for Teignmouth later. I just need to do one last thing before we go.

It’s 8.30 a.m. and I’m at the visitors’ centre for the second and final time. I’m here a full forty-five minutes beforehand to ensure I can go through all the security palaver, get my visit done and get back to Lower Tew for around lunchtime. We’re planning to leave at two. Adam is currently loading his car with the first lot of luggage. He’ll be hiring a van for the second trip, then once we’re settled in our own house, which we’re going to rent short-term, we’ll organise for the rest to be brought and put into storage. I’m excited and terrified at the same time. It seems to have taken an age to have reached this point.

I don’t want anything to get in the way now.

Once I’m through the processing stage along with the other visitors, I’m patted down and checked for drugs and other contraband. The female officer makes no effort to converse with me, which suits me fine. She sighs a lot, and even huffs loudly. She doesn’t appear to want to be here any more than I do.

This isn’t something I want to do. I need to. It’s about closing the book on my previous life before I can begin another.

The door is unlocked by an officer and I walk forward into the visiting hall, my heart thumping hard.

I’m about to visit a convicted murderer.

My husband, the serial killer.

‘I wasn’t going to leave my cell,’ he says as he sits in front of me.

‘So, why did you?’

‘I wanted to see you one last time. Assuming that’s the reason for your visit. To say goodbye.’

My eyes narrow in confusion. I wasn’t expecting him to realise that was my intention, but maybe it was obvious, given I have only come here once before.

‘We’ve been married for seven years, Beth. I do know you.’ He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. For now, I refrain from telling him I’ve already seen a solicitor to begin divorce proceedings.

With my head bowed, I fiddle with the edge of my t-shirt, rolling it up and letting it unravel, then rolling it again.

‘Now you’re here, aren’t you going to speak?’ Tom asks, his head lowering to catch my eye. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me how sorry you are for fucking me over?’ His voice is a harsh whisper. I imagine his eyes are filled with hatred, but I can’t meet his gaze. I feel like a scolded child. In some ways I do want to apologise, but I bite the inside of my cheek to stop me saying it. He’s here because of his actions, not mine.

‘You didn’t really give me a choice, Tom,’ I finally say.

‘Oh? Really? I rather think I did. I told you about Phoebe and Katie. You knew, and you promised to stand by me. You could’ve left then. Gone to the police, anything. But you stayed. And we carried on as normal. For a whole year, Beth. You were the perfect wife and mother for that entire time. Why suddenly change your mind?’

‘I didn’t want that life. I was afraid of what might come next. We had no security – it might have all blown up in our faces at any time. I was continually looking over my shoulder, wondering when it’d all come out. Because I knew it would. It had to. Nothing stays buried forever.’

‘Especially if you give them the fucking location.’ Hurt and anger combine in his tone and his facial expression contorts as his words are propelled through his clenched teeth.

‘I was right, though, wasn’t I? You and that … whore! You killed again, Tom. And no doubt you’d have continued to act out your … your awful, twisted urges, until you murdered another innocent woman. Maybe even me!’

‘I did that for you, Beth. To keep you safe.’

‘No. Don’t you dare,’ I say. Spittle lands on the table between us.